Paris Hilton is not a poet, shame she doesn’t know it
Paris Hilton has had it all. The money. The TV show. The perfume range. The perfume range for men. The fashion line. The week in jail. The nomination for the Best Frightened Performance award at the MTV Movie Awards. The hit single. The autobiographical tome and Pulitzer Prize winner, Confessions of an Heiress: A Tongue-in-Chic Peek Behind the Pose.
However, Paris has copped considerable amounts of flak with each of these achievements. Her critics have scoffed at the talents of the perfumer, lyricist, Chihuahua advocate and essayist extraordinaire.
To her credit, Hilton has been expanding like the universe after the Big Bang ever since since she exploded to fame many years ago. Obviously not physically. But into different areas of expertise. Her latest? Poetry.
Poetry has a dorky reputation. As Punch regular Amy Crutchfield wrote late last year, the art’s name has been soiled by high school English classes - which never adequately explain that poetry doesn’t actually HAVE to rhyme. In this case, by dubbing her voice over repetitive dance music Hilton has cleverly tried to disguise her poem, Drunk Text, as a song.
Thing is, Dictionary.com says that for something to qualify as a song it requires some kind of singing, or at least vocal sampling. But Paris’ voice doesn’t even vary in all 3 minutes 47 seconds of her video. And her lyrics put many Punch commenters’ regular contributions to our quasi-regular Poet’s Corner section to shame.
Just take this stanza:
In my head I was writing a fiction of us
Behind my eyes, I was begging for
Things my lips could never ask
And my mouth kept pouring
Desperate clauses of random intent
Wowza. “Desperate clauses of random intent”. Watch out, E. E. Cummings. But wait, there’s more:
To take the world sex, and mix it with texting
It’s called sexting
When you add drunk sexting
The words just don’t make sense
Alright. It’s pretty obvious Paris Hilton isn’t going to be the next Poet Laureate of the United States. Her song is completely made up of desperate clauses of random intent and her words don’t really make sense. I could drunk text better lyrics.
It’s little wonder that her record label, Black Hole Recordings, has vacuumed up most copies of the Hilton music video off the web.
Hilton is lucky in the sense that she can do whatever she wants. She’s got enough dosh that she can saunter into a recording studio or perfume factory or start up her own post-modern literary magazine about poodles whenever she wants.
But the reason she makes these products isn’t because she’s got incredible amounts of raw talent. The only reason companies create products under her name is so they can “leverage her brand” into selling more merchandise.
There are any number of “artists” like Hilton out there, their talents manufactured by record labels and film studios. But while Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian and Kevin Rudd might be able to buy a career with their celebrity, it hasn’t bought any of them a credible one.
None of them have the enduring talent of someone like Meryl Streep, who has garnered praise across generations.
Sometimes, talent can actually be pretty hot. Write a song about that, Paris.
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