Dear Person Who Hacked Paris Hilton’s Cell Phone

By making Ms. Hilton’s phone book and emails available for all to see, you provided me with much entertainment on a lazy Sunday. I thoroughly enjoyed the fruits of your labor, gleefully imagining the fury that would be directed at Ms. Hilton after Eminem received his ninetieth wake-up call from some adoring, aspiring wigga. I thought long and hard about calling up “Dad” and cursing him for producing such a monstrosity and unleashing it on the public. I spent valuable seconds wondering if a mundane entry like “Rite Aid” was for a pharmacy – or a drug dealer. I wonder if “Egplant dike ass” will be upset when she recognizes her phone number.
Though I was pleased to see the number for “Feed the children” in there, she didn’t gain any points with me. I can’t stand her and neither, obviously, can you.
We share the same distaste for the girl. We’re appalled by the vapidity, the hubris, the logic-defying celebrity status bestowed on her by dunces. You cringe as I cringe. You shake your head as I do. You don’t get it as I don’t get it.
No doubt you were as traumatized as I was that the video of her humping an opportunistic sleazeball didn’t send her off to oblivion – but rather made her bigger and more powerful. Just like the blob in The Blob. I saw this as a sign that the world was going to Hell, and so did you. Indeed, perhaps she’s Satan in a tart costume.
Speaking of Satan – who do you think would email back if I sent “Christ” a message? She can’t be that connected, can she? He’s there in her address book, two up from Chris Judd, just under “Mr. Chows.”
Though I find Ms. Hilton a classless drain on all things decent and believe she cheerfully, vacantly represents almost everything that’s wrong with society today, my contempt for the strumpet ends at calling her names. You? You’ve got moxie, my boy. You take action.
Now, what you did was wrong of course. Your callous disregard for collateral damage was on par with the average Islamist. Come tomorrow – after having received countless emails and phone calls from freaks worldwide – hundreds of innocent and not-so-innocent people or their assistants will be forced to spend their President’s Day obtaining new phone numbers and email addresses.
Because of what you did to Ms. Hilton, other folks were hurt or placed in harm’s way. Ashlee Simpson might get a call reminding her that she’s a fraud perpetrating a joke on the song-downloading public. Ditto Lindsay Lohan. And Lauren Popeil, heiress to Ronco, might be hounded by people upset that her dad’s Food Dehydrator is a piece of crap.
A lot of folks – and inexplicably Pauly Shore – were caught in the crossfire. So shame on you.
But how totally, totally awesome.
Sure we’ve all seen Paris naked, committing oral sodomy in night vision, but your felonious adventure provided pretty much anyone with internet access the opportunity to catch a glimpse of the little portion of Paris they hadn’t yet seen. The Paris who, according to her personal notes, has to “Get birth control kill pill.” The Paris who has “Tell ken about jess trying to bone JT” as a to-do. The business-savvy Paris who plans to “Do that’s hot tank tops like chrome hearts iold english writinh that’s hot with crosses and tiatas.”
Thanks to the overwhelming Paris Hilton media offensive (pun intended), the content of her Sidekick phone was actually the only Paris-related thing left for the general population to find out about. Now that you went the extra mile and provided it to us, I can’t help but wonder: is she over?
Of course she isn’t. That would simply be too lucky. Sure, we’d love to think of her being dis-invited to parties and airbrushed off magazine covers. But it’s not going to happen. I wouldn’t say we’ll always have Paris, but she’ll be desecrating the culture a bit longer. Sigh.
Not to say the sacrifice you’ll be making is in vain; you gave us brief joy and a glimmer of hope. For that, I thank you. No doubt a good portion of the public thanks you. Pauly Shore, ironically, probably thanks you. In fact the only people not thanking you would be the heiress herself, and 500 of her closest “friends.”