Paparazzi: Shamelessly Retarded

From coast to coast, through the empty lands in between, a human tide rolls despite the wind, the season, despite the very year, rolls on pigheadedly with weapons that can gleam like diamonds with the press of a button and have the power to capture souls -- or so the Indians thought. These men, this human tide, differ from others in the 'soul capturing' business, in that they have no morality nor any real interest in the subject they stalk, which they do mercilessly, day and night, rain or shine. Collectively, they are know for their parasitic ways, and equally their lack of remorse, and when alone, each person making up its ripples, its crests and frothy tides acts much like a filthy worm, too ignorant to know right from wrong.

They are known simply as:

The Paparazzi.

Individually they are known by many more names, many of them expletive, for even pigeons find these guys a nuisance.

They are supposed photographers, who stalk celebrities with a ferocity unmatched by even the most devoted of men. But do not let the term 'photographer' fool you, these men are no artists, and similarly aren't anywhere as talented, for surely neither art nor talent has anything to do with getting a cooch shot of Britney Spears: its more a matter of being in the right place at the right time. By 'right place' I mean any club deemed fashionable enough for Hollywood trash, and by 'right time' I mean any time after 2 am, when intoxication would most likely be toward those toxic -I'm-Gonna-Puke-Levels.

In regards to technique, its less 'aim and shoot' and more 'spray and pray,' let loose on the sucker, let the lamp flicker and light up the place like muzzle fire. If lucky, you'll get a good shot of your victim - a death wielding blow, one capable of destroying their image and reputation like so much glass . . A good shot, a fresh kill, to be fed into the gears of another machine, to be ground up and churned out with hack writing and pure bullshit, one sheet at a time - collected and bound with cheap staples, and doled out to supermarkets for swine old ladies to gaze at; to swoop up; to soil with sweaty pruned fingers; to leave left out on the table; to line the bird's cage with. . .

Pure fuel for the furnace.

These paparazzi have their own social strata, as lopsided as any other. At the top, at the very peak lay the big shot paparazzi, who are commissioned for photos for big international stars, namely Angelina Jolie. These paparazzi live in nicer homes, up in Beverly Hills, with big white gates to keep all the riff raff out, and rightfully so, for often nice cars and obstinate wealth is kept within their iron doors. Beneath them exists a group of mid-level scum, who dislike those above them, and the feeling is indeed mutual. They are the hounds who's sole preoccupation is to follow tail with their uncanny sense of smell. They've most often got leeches in their ears, Bluetooths and cellphones that slowly suck out their brains like soggy oatmeal. These are the types who take to the clubs, and snatch shots of snatch for 260 bucks a pop, who wait tirelessly anywhere and everywhere, like some undying weed that just springs up at a moments notice. They live in moderate homes, with nice squared off lawns, and well paved driveways; still quite well-to-do, but not quite upper crust. Beneath them exists an even greater scum, who's work consists of mostly blurry shots of actors nobody cares about anymore (i.e. Tara Reid,) or something everyone's already seen a million times before and is therefore no longer "gossip worthy" (i.e. Tara Reid drunk in public.) They are generally disdained by the rest of the paparazzi world, who see them as "amateurs," and the ones responsible for giving them a bad name. They live in rented apartments, or bunk with friends, some even live in their cars, which hardly function as transportation anymore, but rather as a trashcan on wheels with plenty of room for fast food wrappers and beer cans.

But then there's always an instance when every paparazzi is looking for that 'money shot,' that six figure photo that practically every magazine is looking for. What makes for a 'money shot?' Well it seems mostly photos of babies, or photos taken of celebrities seconds before/after death, wedding photos, you know the usual vulture type shit.

People for instance paid 4.1 million dollars for this shit:


Even more appalling OK! Magazine thought it necessary to drop 3 million dollars on photos of a retard marrying an old witch:

The underlying reasons as to why this is not only frightening, but also retarded, should be apparent, for there would be no way for any magazine trying to keep from going under to spend that kind of dough on a photo alone, unless they had the revenue to back it up. People has a expected revenue of 1.5 billion dollars, a circulation of 3.75 million - its teenage variation Teen People hasn't done too bad either. . . OK! Magazine is the UK's top selling trash magazine, and also has branches in the United States, Turkey, and Azerbajian, so one must assume they aren't struggling either.

A lot money floating around, yah dig?

And like snow it all comes down from the top, sprinkling down from the magazines to the editorial staff and the writers, to the secretaries manning the phones, the janitors flogging the toilets, down through the building and out to the lonely paparazzi, left to feed like vultures on whatever remained of the pot.

So who does this leave to blame?

Well paparazzi are driven, like most bad things, by money, but their photographs are only valuable because magazines and tabloids make them valuable. And why are they made valuable? Because of you of course. Without customers, there wouldn't be any hub bub over Angelina's swollen belly, nor when it deflated and a baby came out: for it is indeed logical for a woman to be able, with the help of a man to produce offspring. Yet this in no way forgives paparazzi for some of their deceitful and intrepid ways. Regardless of the first amendment, these men and women operate on the fringe of business and morality, often throwing morality out the window for the sake of a quick buck.

Celebrities are douche bags, tis the very theme of this site, and paparazzi for their willing devotion to tap the blood lines and feed the growing retardation of entire races of human beings, makes paparazzi, in the eyes of iR, shamelesly retarded.

FURTHER RETARDATION:

Celebritah Scuffles with Paparrazi:

ALEC BALDWIN - In March 1996 he allegedly gave a photographer a black eye after he swarmed he and his wife and their new born daughter.

GEORGE CLOONEY - Organized a boycott of Paramount Pictures for their use of paparazzi footage

JOHNNY DEPP - Chased off paparazzi outside a restaurant, reportedly having "flipped out."

SEAN PENN - Spent 1 month in L.A. county Jail for assaulting a photographer whose presence annoyed him and then wife, Madonna.

ROBERT DeNIRO - In 1995, was accused of pinning a photographer to a car outside of a Manhattan Bar, requesting the footage he had acquired.

WOODY HARELSON - Went to court for allegedly assaulting two cameramen during Ted Danson's Wedding, set in beautiful Napa Valley. Confessing he was merely trying to protect his daughter from being photographed, Woody nonetheless still lost the case and had to pay 80,000 in lawyer's fees.

KEANU REEVES: Was claimed to have hit paparazzi with his car after leaving a friends house.

SIENNA MILLER: Won an injunction preventing paparazzi from following her or gathering outside of her home.

AMY WINEHOUSE: Won an injunction preventing paparazzi from following her or gathering outside of her home.

LILY ALLEN: Won an injunction preventing paparazzi from following her or gathering outside of her home.

iR