Hey, Hollywood

we're bored

---

In the news this morning the ladies from The Prince and the Pervert Podcast are speculating that the latest photos from the Daily Mail, showing Ghislaine Maxwell’s Husband Scott Borgerson’s and his new girlfriend, local journalist and yoga enthusiast, Kris McGinn on a romantic stroll along the beach near the home he perviously shared with Maxwell, was all a paparazzi set up. In an attempt to redefine his image in the wake of Maxwell’s conviction. His reputation, obviously tainted by the reveal of his secret marriage to her last year.

News of their union came to light during pretrial hearings, when she informed the court she was in the process of divorcing her partner (who’s identity, at that point, had not yet been revealed) to spare him the “awful” consequences of being associated with her.

One year later after begging the courts to set her free and offering up an obscene amount of money to make it happen, he’s on the front pages of a British tabloid making out with the head reporter for the local paper called, “The Cricket.”

Insert mental image of Ghislaine in some manner of controlled rage tearing up old love letters (and sweetly combined bank statements) in her jail cell this weekend.

Based on multiple camera angles and the couple’s relaxed eye contact in the images it appears these new lovebirds were maybe expecting the cameras. And why the PDA was packed on, to send a very clear message to the world: Scott Borgerson, the man who once offered up 25 million dollars to free Ghislaine Maxwell before her trial, has officially moved on.

Regarding calculated paparazzi and PR stunts, this is a subject that’s been making the rounds in discussions lately between me and friends. All of us more or less over all the manufactured storylines, fake feuds, fake scandals, fake couples attached to headlines we sift through daily, thanks to the lingering grip Kris Jenner still holds on this era. A woman who’s made her fortune owning the art of relativity. Generating constant media attention with constant story spins to keep her family’s name circulating in the press. Whether that attention is fueled by sex tapes or White House luncheons. Cheating baby daddy’s or manic ex husbands riding the edge of sanity in accusing Twitter rants.

Long live the “Kris Jong Un” insult, am I right?

Good or bad, if it keeps you in the headlines, Kris Jenner says she’ll “take it!”

I made the case recently on a short IG rant, in defending my fascination with the Maxwell family, how it’s entirely justified to be intrigued by women we don’t necessarily like, or morally align with the same way we always have with powerful men throughout history. Drug lords, mob bosses, serial killers, crazed cult leaders.

This is absolutely the case with Kris Jenner. I can’t really stand most of what she does, or represents, but I respect that she does it. Without an ounce of remorse or apology about it. How she’s managed to take a pretty basic family from Calabasas and push them to the forefront of pop culture, convincing us somehow (year after year) that these people are worth our lasting attention. It’s undeniably impressive. Even though I’m sick to death of seeing them all in my news feed.

Their unwavering loyalty though, like the Maxwell’s, I appreciate. I don’t care who is dating who anymore but I respect how deeply they support each other through it all. Through every scandal, and every stupid public breakup we’re urged to care about.

Selfishly I’m wondering though how long until we've all had enough. When, if ever, the trending tide might turn and Kris Jenner’s luck, might finally expire. I’m so bored by the age of leisure wear and lip kit empires.

Ready for … almost anything else.

This morning I spent an hour scrolling though IG, where I could not, for the life of me, escape the endless images of the Kardashians / Jenners (who have gradually morphed into Kardashians) posing in string bikinis on white sandy beach fronts, pimping plastic makeup kits, in purse lipped selfies holding photoshop tuned children, boasting scenes from extravagant birthday parties, eating salads in bare walled mansions, and generally perfecting that extreme cat eyed expression built from too much filler and botox that has unfortunately claimed the face of every young starlit on the scene over the past three years.

From models to reality stars, they all look like they have their ponytail pulled too tight. And I just miss real teeth, and hips, and lips. And textured skin and genuine drama born of real human emotions. Not PR creations designed to trend for a few days on Twitter.

And I defiantly real celebrity romances that spring because of unexpected charisma between two unsuspecting people. Not because a signer needs another muse to add hype to his new record, or a momager has concocted a plan to push a scraggly comedian onto frame as a quirky side story for her newly separated daughter, to shock the world by having her show up for a dinner date in a shitty spaghetti diner in Staten Island.

I know I’m not alone here.

When news of the Bennifer revival first broke last year, and flashbacks of velour track suits and gelled slicked hair immediately began retracing corners of my brain, I text Jess saying “Can you believe, after all these years, these two are back together?” “Oh, its all fake,” she wrote. Decidedly unamused. “Its all fake, so who even cares.”

In short, how lots of us feel with half the things we read these days. If we aren’t buying it, we’re not mentally investing in it. But my God, give us something - anything - else.

A global sex trafficking ring, with mystery money and truly vile people behind the curtain of it? Fine.

At the very least, compelling details are revealed with every layer that comes unpeeled.

Said no one ever, about the Kardashians and the Bennifers of now.

See
Fake celebrity couples

Kardashian Scam