Dear Kardashian family, please go away

The nightmare I’m about to describe starts out like any other evening: You’re lying in bed after a long day, enjoying a glass of pinot grigio and flipping channels on the television. That’s when you see one. Dark, round, and virulent-looking. And just as quickly, it’s gone. Wait, are your eyes playing tricks on you? But no, for there is another. And another. And…another. You start to sweat, you start to cry, you jump up off the bed and battle the urge to burn the whole house down. Alas, it is too late. You’ve been infested, and the innocence you once knew is now gone. No, dear readers, I am not talking about bedbugs. I speak of the Kardashians.

My father likes to say that, when the revolution begins, these little brats will be the first to be carted off. Until recently, I didn’t have an opinion of them one way or another. I don’t watch their reality show, so I lived in a protective Kardashian-free cocoon. But suddenly, like poison sumac, these little fame whores are everywhere. Even CNN reports about them: Breaking news! Kim Kardashian drinks a latte!And there are so damn many of them! It’s like they’re breeding them in a lab. Maybe this has always been the case and I’m just noticing them all now; regardless, my brain has reached Kardashian Kritical Mass. What sent me over the edge, though, was this blog post ^[1]by Khloe Kardashian: A letter she wrote to her husband, Lamar Odom, to celebrate their first wedding anniversary.  I made the mistake of actually reading this prime example of how the education system has failed our youth and now I am all sorts of Michael Douglas in “Falling Down.” I officially cannot stand these people.

For a second, let’s overlook the idiocy of publicly boasting of a happy marriage when you’ve known your husband for only a little over a year; I have non-perishables that have been sitting in my pantry for longer than that. Let’s instead look at the bigger picture: This blog post is Exhibit A of why people like the Kardashians, the Hiltons, the Nicole Richies, and the Tila Southern Comfort people of the world make me itch. They’ve become incapable of doing anything away from the glare of a white hot spotlight. Look at me, I’m writing a letter to my husband! Look at me, I’m getting a bikini wax! Look at me, I’m ordering a pain au chocolat! See it’s different when I do it because I’m famous!  Why is anyone interested in these people? I propose that we add an amendment to the Constitution whereby no one can become famous for releasing a sex tape, or for having a sister who releases a sex tape. You want some bipartisan consensus, Washington? Throw that one out on the floor and watch the masses eat it up.

So my advice this week goes out to you, The Family Kardashian: It’s time to go away. You too, Bruce Jenner of the Lady Elaine Fairchild face. You don’t have to announce some big Garbo-esque retirement from the limelight; you can gracefully, gradually fade away. But fade away you must. Know what the first wedding anniversary gift is, Khloe? Paper. Please use it to write all future missives to your husband.

Let’s face it: Some celebrities could use good advice. Meg Boyle gives it to them every Tuesday.