Forget Paris?
"Mom, who is Paris HIlton?" The question came out of nowhere. I was in the living room curled up in my favorite navy recliner. My daughter was in her bedroom trying to earn coins for my Club Penguin account so I can buy my own puffle . Because she can be nice like that. Duly noting that twisted way the world has of making completely random acts collide, I glanced up from the article I was at that very moment reading in today's issue of The Daily Herald: After a week without her, AP asks: Can we forget Paris? "A spoiled little rich girl who has no visible talents or skills but through no effort or merit of her own is immensely rich and famous. Not to mention famously rich," I respond. L~"Is she the one with the bunny face?" I glance down to examine the picture (not this one) of Paris' overtanned face framed by her perfectly platinum hair. In my head I trace the outline of the typical hand-drawn bunny face--you know the one--superimposed over Pari...