There's a new Worst Thing Imaginable on television. It's name: Paris Hilton's My New BFF. Had I not seen her kick some ass on Chuck last week, I would worry about Nicole Richie's reaction to the news that Paris was friend-shopping. If she was at all upset, I would advise her to sit down and watch about five minutes of this (sur)reality show. That was all it took for me to move from confusion, to revulsion, to pity and back to revulsion again.
For a long time I believed that Paris Hilton's ability to maintain a friendship started in kindergarten was her one redeeming quality. That, and perhaps a latent sense of humor. Otherwise, she represents the pinnacle of the materialistic appearance-obsessed entertainment culture. She's the queen of the party girls - she has no real skills or abilities, but because of her famous name, stick-thin body and "beautiful" face, she's an international celebrity. In short, she is what's wrong with America today. Now, she has even managed to denigrate the act of friendship, using it to feed her insatiable hunger for limelight. Thus, My New BFF - a reality show where eighteen star chasers all compete for a spot at Hilton's feet.
When someone gains immunity after a challenge, they become Hilton's "pet." When someone is eliminated, she tells them, "TTYN." Either way, I vomit a little in my mouth. One small mercy - this show won't last very long. Paris, in her constant fit of pique, eliminated four contestants in the first episode. With one or two contestants leaving every time I give My New BFF about twelve episodes - fifteen, tops. Which will free Paris up for her new show, My New BBF - British best friend, set in London and due to air January 2009.