With a date of separation perfectly timed for Halloween, Kim Kardashian and whatshisname are divorcing after 72 days of unholy union, at least surpassing the 32-day stint once achieved by the much-hotter-looking Ernie Borgnine and Ethel Merman.
But doesn’t this reek of something truly foul?
Back when these two attention cravers got swept into marriage with all the attending publicity and dough (from their wedding photo album, which they whored to a magazine), didn’t we brilliantly suspect that it was strictly for PR, like everything else they do?
Is anyone really upset by this except us jaundiced observers who feel used, abused, and as cheated on as the trophy wife of an aging CEO on Viagra?
Could you not vomit, people?
And as playwright Paul Rudnick just told me:
“My concern is that they haven’t had time to make a sex tape!”