How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tabloids
I love tabloids. As a way to unwind after “teaching” the youth of America this school year, I would often peruse the Daily Mail at the expense of reading “real” news. No one does tabloids better than the Brits. For every grainy baby bump picture in People magazine, there are 30 clear shots in the Daily Mail, plus actual columns devoted to all of the Middleton’s wardrobe choices. Even their celebrities are better than ours. We have the Kardashians, and they had Peaches Geldof (Let me quickly bring you up to speed: socialite/model/TV personality named fucking Peaches, succumbs to drug problem). When I realized that I was wasting a lot of time reading about vacuous pretty people, I uninstalled the Daily Mail app from my phone. This was a Bad Move, mostly because the situation in the world today is no better than poor Peaches’ life. Since school let out, I have subbed real news for celebrity news, and I’m just about ready to throw in the towel. The world has gone bat shit crazy,