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Who the hell thinks its okay for a tabloid rag to speculate on the chromosomal condition of toddlers–in any case, but especially based on a few grainy photos?
For the record, Star, Down Sydrome isn’t “drama.”
Seriously. This magazine marks a new cultural low. AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING.
Star Magazine reporter Kate Major (pictured above) apparently resigned from her post today, noting a conflict of interest in working for the rag because she’s dating Jon Gosselin.
Meanwhile, Gosselin’s girlfriend from, uh, two weeks ago, Hailey Glassman, is still holed up in his NYC apartment–shocked and saddened to hear she’s been replaced.
MEANWHILE, Gosselin’s wife Kate is with the eight sperm sprouts (or “children,” if you prefer), who probably now spend most of their time wondering why Daddy smells like smoke, lives in the City, wears an earring and doesn’t love them anymore.
Excuse me, but what the hell does this guy have that’s so alluring? Baggage, a reality career, a wicked beer gut, mid-life issues, a receding hair line, marshmallow face, and a closet full of Ed Hardy? Oh… YAY. What a catch.
All I’m saying is, Jon Gosselin better have a 13-inch, rotund penis–or all of these chicks are absolutely certifiable.
Okay, I realize that in posting this clip from Star Magazine while saying, “So this morning when I read this piece in Star, I couldn’t keep from sharing…” I’m revealing my hand a little bit. Yes, I read Star. Especially on planes* and while trudging through a long holiday weekend. It’s fantastic! It’s mean! It’s almost inexorably untrue! Alright? Alright? Jeeeeezus! It’s not like I believe any of the stories! And as much as the rag has tried, with countless (and I do mean countless) mentions and features, their editors still haven’t convinced me that I’ve seen the new 90210 or give one soft shit about the remake’s anorexic stars. So there.
But seriously, though. It wouldn’t–nay, couldn’t–take me an overseas plane ride to get through just one issue of the damn thing. And I certainly would have enough respect for myself and one of the Seven Wonders of the World, to put the damn thing down for a long hike.
China should have eaten this slow reader alive.
*the trick is to purchase ‘Star’ and the ‘New Yorker’ before boarding, and just slide the tab rag inside the pretentious Manhattan rag. No one will ever know, besides the person sitting next to you–and even that is a maybe.