Pamela Anderson and Kid Rock are being married in a round of ceremonies that brings to mind serial murders. The World Series of Connubial Bliss. The first event will take place this weekend in St. Tropez, followed by re-runs in Malibu, Detroit and Nashville. And any other amazingly lucky cities they decide to honor with their nuptials. She probably has a different dress for every one of them. White, of course, because she is nothing if not virginal.
Do they really think multiple ceremonies will exponentially increase their chances of having a successful marriage? Or are they just putting off the inevitable, that after the wedding(s) comes, gulp, marriage? Omigod. Eventually they will run out of celebrations and maybe even have to talk to each other. Now that could be newsworthy since it has not been established to my satisfaction that either of them has any familiarity with the thought process.
After all, this is a girl known primarily for the size of her plastic knockers, a girl whose print on the sidewalk at Graumann's Chinese Theater is surely not a hand. I don't know a lot about physics, but I'm pretty sure that if I were so endowed by nature or surgery, I'd have to walk on all fours or buy a wheelbarrow. While his main claim to fame was a single about cunnilingus, "Yo Da Lin In The Valley," off his album "Grits Sandwiches For Breakfast," for which Central Michigan University was fined $23,700 by the FCC after airing it. His other credits include a song quaintly titled, "Pimp of the Nation" which refers to "pimpin' Barbara Bush." Sweet. It's not clear whether he's referring to the president's mother or daughter, if that matters to anyone.
I mean, this is your basic young American couple, the kind of folks who have turned this country into a laughingstock which may sink giggling into the sea if things get any sillier.
What's not to love?
