Why wouldn’t you date Kim Kardashian, Markley? Because she’s famous? Oh, poor you. You get into free events and get free stuff all the time. Cry me a river.
See, there’s a collective sense of entitlement we have with our celebrities. We talk about and judge their scripted life choices to make ourselves feel better about the fact that we’re kinda on a big hamster wheel in life. Kim Kardashian is the best possible example of this.
And I don’t want to hear the argument that she would be boring to talk to. Most guys probably already dated three girls just like her. At the basic, superficial level of this debate, Kim Kardashian and her ilk are way more familiar to a lot of guys than you might think. Let’s see: A way-too-hot girlie girl with not much to say about the current political climate but who really likes the new Nicki Minaj record and fad diets? She loves dancing, shopping and super-unrealistic ideals for love and real relationships due to too many viewings of bad romance films? She uses Coco Chanel quotes as status updates?
Of course you would date Kim Kardashian!
Fake boobs, fake butt, fake whatever? Don’t. Care. Put it on the record. I, Ernest C. Wilkins III, would go to town on Kim Kardashian. Hallelujah, holler back.
(Side note to my white friends: Can we cool it with the need to snark on Kim’s attraction to black men? Try dating a black guy sometime. We’re too legit to quit.)
ERNEST WILKINS IS CHICAGO’S WINGMAN.ERWILKINS@TRIBUNE.COM | @ERNESTWILKINS
I can’t even fathom what Wilkins’ point would be on the other side of this debate, which is why I’m looking forward to reading it the way you look forward to reading an argument about why one should dip his genitals into the mouth of a ferret: genuine curiosity.
Dating Kim Kardashian ranks among the all-time worst ideas. It’s up there with, “Let’s greenlight this ‘John Carter’ thing. Sounds fantastic!” If you’re interested in dating a collagen-smeared, silicon-injected stump of plasticity, the Japanese have robot dolls that can satisfy that. Kardashian brings nothing to the table in terms of conversation, passion, intrigue or creativity. It would be like dating a mannequin.
Then you have to consider the Humphries Effect. Instantaneously, you’d be tagged and targeted as the largest d-bag on planet Earth and forced to parade around in a horrific reality TV show while all of America snickered at your every wince-inducing gaffe. You’d be the butt of late-night talk show jokes, you’d come out with a clothing line that nobody would buy, you’d try to brand a cologne that would smell vaguely like a motel room after a visit with a prostitute—your whole life would become this bizarrely commodified joke….more