Sign of the Apocolypse in Las Vegas

While politics and news provide the meat and potatoes of this blog, I'm also a big fan of the fluffy, airy dessert topics. I've run my share of meaningless, frivolous stories. Being very interested in media and pop culture, I think some of these things are just as important to our daily lives as anything else. I mean, as seriously as sports are taken in this country, they are no more or less relevant than movies, TV and celebrities.

But where I usually draw the line is celebutards (™ The Stephanie Miller Show). I've made the rare, occasional reference to Britney, Paris, or Lindsey, but as a rule it is only because I lament that they're considered newsworthy. But this photo has me bending the rules a bit. Being a Las Vegas blogger, this particular topic has vexed me for years.

Over the last ten years or so, a troubling trend has developed in Las Vegas. A series of usually single named nightclubs (Pure, Ra, Onyx, Light, Tangerine, Slut. . .OK the last one's a joke) have set the tone for a nightlife scene, mostly for the young and beautiful. These clubs have "event" nights, highlighted by a celebrity DJ (another trend I don't understand), terrible music, and a celebrity "host." The celebrities who host are usually, you guessed it, celebutards. How on earth these people are a draw really hurts my brain. But they must be, because they keep turning up.


Here is the photo that prompted this little incoherent rant. It is a shot of two of the most vacuous, talentless members of the shallow celebutard gene pool. Hold on to the sides of your head to keep it from exploding. . .



Photo of Paris Hilton and Kevin Federline at Las Vegas nightclub Pure, from Qweerty