Keeping up with why people care about Kim Kardashian

Why is it that we care so much about people we don’t even know?


Apparently—according to a number of news outlets—last week while she was in Paris for Fashion Week, Kim Kardashian West was tied up, gagged, and robbed at gunpoint. #TryingNotToRollMyEyes

Oh dear. Call Crimestoppers.

Seriously, though, this is awful and terrifying by anyone’s standards, and I would never diminish the abject fear that must have coursed through her bootylicious body whilst being tied up, gagged, manhandled, and relieved of over $10 million worth of jewelry by masked gunman dressed up as policemen. #BDSM

However, I’m struggling to care.

No, I shouldn’t say “I’m struggling”; that suggests that I’m experiencing some inner angst that has me at sixes and sevens.  I should say I’m trying to care. #meh

Truthfully?  If I’m struggling at all, I’m struggling with the veracity of this whole story, because the more I read about it, the more fantastic it sounds. #Fishy

According to the New York Daily News, there were no surveillance videos and she had no security detail.  According to Twitter, Instagram, and Snapchat, Ms. West let everybody and their frère know where she was staying and how much adornment she had with her. #DumberThanABoxofRocks

Look, I don’t have a whole lot of stuff that anyone would ever bother to steal, but even I’m smart enough to consider the ramifications of broadcasting my whereabouts on social media.  It’s not like I tweet, “O snap! Just left for a wknd in the Hamptons. Wonder if I locked the front door? #ProllyNot” let alone, “In Paris for @fashionweek. Cldnt decide on jewelry so I brought it ALL! #Bling”

Instead, the real crime is why there are more than ten or eleven people on the planet who care about whether Kim Kardashian was robbed at gunpoint or whether she broke a nail trying to text her P.A.that she was out of toilet paper. Or whether she pulled a muscle taking a pouty-faced selfie while on the crapper holding the empty roll. #HelpMe

You do not know this woman.  You are not her friend.  She is not your friend.  She is a half-assed celebrity—wait, I take that back—she is a huge-assed celebrity, but consider this: Giving birth to two children notwithstanding, what has she ever contributed to the greater good?

She is not Mother Teresa, she is not working to cure cancer, she is not toiling away in an inner city school educating the least of these, she is not a third-shift nurse working in a Chicago emergency room saving lives. Her job involves allowing a camera crew to film her while she sits around and whines and pouts about shizz that normal people don’t have time to wonder about, let alone whine about. #drowninginaseaofvacuousness

Why do people care?

Care that she was (allegedly) among the thousands upon thousands worldwide who were victims of a crime on that particular day.  Be grateful that her children were not with her (maybe be grateful that her children are seldom with her).  Care that she wasn’t hurt.  Care that the incident serves as a cautionary tale reminding you not to broadcast where you are and how much of your collection of fine jewelry you have with you. #duh

Put your empathy in perspective, and, yeah, take the story with a grain of salt. #LetsSeeHowThisShakesOut


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Following my years as an elementary and middle school teacher, I decided I wanted to spend the second half of my life just writing. Currently, I work as a technical writer for a software company, fulfilling my passion for writing and editing, and in between the times I'm trying to figure out how to put really complicated ideas into words the rest of the world can understand, I write novels. The Gym Show, published in March 2014, is my first novel. I'm already half-way through with my second novel--a title soon to be revealed. The creative side of me loves to write, but the teacher in me loves to edit, so let me help you craft your message, write your articles, mend your prose, and get people to read what you've written. Contact me at

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