Paris Hilton's Endless Quest for a 'Good Time' Must Be Because She's a Ghost
Paris Hilton has returned to her true passion — the sonic waves of music-making — at long last. And this time she's brought her friend Lil Wayne along for the ride as well. Thankfully theirs is of the "Good Time" variety, so nothing will go amiss. Because how can anything possibly go wrong when you live your life perma-waving the "FOMO YOLO!" banner high above your head. She is the Gavroche Thénardier of sweet, sweet chilltimes. And do you hear the people sing? It is the music of a people who will not be slaves [to real world or responsibilities] again!
The lyrics, truly, are of an award-winning ilk similar to past hits, "Stars are Blind" and "Screwed." Her tone and tenor are filled with the morose longing of a willowing specter, floating from soirée to soirée, hopeful that the next partner, the next libation, the next melodious ditty, will be the one to return her to fully human, void-less form.
Indeed, a warm body is a terrible thing to waste (which is why Hilton keeps hers in a bikini, for fear of overheating). But it is the song's message that speaks most truthfully to this heartbreaking tale. Forsooth, how else could one explain the sheer tone deaf (no, not in that way, though, heh) nature of this musical marauder's melodic message?
Because this is how the ghouls deal, you see. At a time where the government of America is shut down, where movies about epic fights for justice are at the top of the box office, and one of the most popular songs in the world touts the idea that materialistic worship and aspirational living is a "kind of luxe just ain't for us/ We crave a different kind of buzz," it could seem curious to release such a tune.
But that is only because for every person who is a fully-realized, self-aware being — lifted to life by the idea of more than simple self-fulfillment — there are 57 other people on the queue to get into Club Delusion.
Until then, at the clubs is where the song will stay, so that other ghastly apparitions might listen to it, and bounce and grind their bodies upon the other wraiths, hoping this perceived dance of intimacy will give way to completeness. Or, you know, a free drink at the bar.