In my last post, I hinted at my unusual respect for Paris Hilton. Now, I'm not about to film myself screaming "Leave Paris alone!" while my mascara runs and put it up on youtube. Those videos are private and Dr. Weisenstein says they're good for letting the sobby-sads out in a way that won't make others feel uncomfortable. All the same, I'd go so far as to say that I like Paris Hilton and think the world is a better place for having her in it. I know, you're waiting for me to turn this around and start mocking the heiress relentlessly. I'll be the first to admit I'm passive-aggressive, but I'm being honest here. Paris Hilton is absolutely fascinating. I wish I could follow her around for a week with a pen and notepad. I have no doubt the resulting book would be the great road story of my generation. What prompted all this love? A long ponder on an empty stomach, that's what. See, our society both loves and hates Paris. Through her, the rest of us get to vicariously live the life of a stupendously wealthy moral relativist while simultaneously wagging our fingers at her. Yep, I said it. She's not a slut with toxic blood and suicidal brain cells, she's a genuine cock-breathed philosopher and there's very little shame in that. How do I know this? Well, for starters Paris Hilton isn't dead yet. If she didn't put some thought, some dynamic contemplation into the bizarre life she lives, Paris would be in the ground right now and the last year and a half of her life would have been spent bound to wheel chair having tiny strokes 'til her eye detached completely. Hilton isn't Anna Nicole Smith. She's not as stupid, medicated, over-sexed and downright trashy as all the attention suggests. Rather than pointing and laughing/disapproving, the cultural study of Paris Hilton ought to prompt us to ask ourselves what exactly any of us would do after a quarter lifetime of obscene wealth. Hell, given a hundred dollar bonus, most people in our society would spend it on a single night of caveman-level recklessness, drinking Jaeger Bombs and howling at strangers on the street. People as rich as Hilton live on a different plane of existence than the rest of us. How many human beings could live with such spectacular riches and still avoid debauchery and nihilism? The fact that Paris Hilton hasn't started hunting immigrants for sport is itself a small wonder. In a recent interview, Ms. Hilton casually claimed that she hasn't actually had sex with that many people. Granted, she did so using a Prada bag analogy, but aren't we all just products of our environment? Of course, plenty of tabloid types (whom I hate to call my contemporaries) jumped all over these statements like the starving rats they are. What I have to say about it is this: What incentive does Paris have to lie about any aspect of her life, let alone sexual activity? For the sake of Papa Joe Francis, the girl got famous for getting screwed on camera! It's not like she's gonna try to establish a career as a preschool teacher any time soon. For this simple lack of a motive and the fact that, despite whatever iffy-ness is in her history, Paris isn't some unscrupulous liar, I'm inclined to believe the girl. So, ya know what? You stand up for yourself, you fabulous creature. History is filled with misunderstood popular figures. You may be the grayest of the morally gray, the icon of all things absurdly materialistic, but at least there's a chance you're not a hypocrite.