Madrid, Dec. 18—In a mildly perverse example of symbiosis that would flummox Darwin and perhaps leave Gregor Mendel uncomfortably aroused, 2010 ended with the announcement that Paris Hilton will lend her fragrant cachet to a Spanish 125cc Grand Prix team in 2011.
When news of the SuperMartx VIP by Paris Hilton Team first clattered over the well-oiled teletype machine here in the Last Page nerve center, our first thought was one of disgust—our default reaction to everything. Paris Hilton? Isn’t she the wench we watch get out of her pink Bentley—the one who schools other young celebutaunts in the practice of minimalistic undergarmentry? Yes, that would be her.
But love her or just use her like the tramp she is, the young lady knows how to fluff up a press conference, and the popular media jumped on her photo-op like they were rushing to, well, a Paris Hilton photo-op. The online motorcycling press was less enthusiastic—no doubt worried that they were being royally played by a cleavage-leveraging international she-brand famous for not quite doing anything any of us can remember. Get over it, guys: Mother Teresa is not backing any MotoGP teams. Paris is the only game in town. Or, considering her name, the only town in the game.
And as long as this Paris Hilton thing bankrolls fresh, fragrant pre-mix for a couple of 125cc racebikes and keeps the lights glowing back at the shop, is it really so bad? One wonders, however, if those skin-tight leathers could actually make it through tech inspection. All of you out-of-work scrutineers: The line forms to the right...MC