Libby Hill

My husband always accuses me of hating everyone. I know for a fact that this happens to be patently untrue. At any given time there are dozens of people that I don’t completely hate.

For instance, I like my husband. I like my mom. So obviously, I don’t hate everyone.

I do, however, reserve a certain amount of disdain for a very specific group of people. They are so lackluster, so unworthy, so very irritating. They are those individuals who are currently bathing in undeserved celebrity.

Let me point out a few:

Ashton Kutcher: Seriously, what is this about? People tell me, “Oh, he’s so funny!”

To them I say, “Eh, not particularly.” The only reason he’s famous is because he suddenly became the goofy, clueless, ultimately brain-dead friend to numerous celebrities.

Congratulations, evidently that makes you some sort of phenom.

Jennifer Lopez: Come on people, she can kind of sing, sort of dance, vaguely acts, and has a huge ass. Man, if that’s all it takes to be a star, then I am there! She dresses slutty, dates influential (God help us) men and makes horrid movies. Including (and this is the clincher) “Anaconda.”

Good Charlotte: Ugh, ugh, UGH! No! Horrid! You’re not punk, you’re not rock, you’re just CRAP!

Nice lyrics — they were almost timely five years ago. You really stick it to Marion Barry, you badasses.

Jessica Simpson. I love “Newlyweds: Nick and Jessica.” It’s addictive and horrifying and simply wonderful.

However, this show is merely a by-product of this crazy-Louis-Vuitton-bag-lady’s inexplicable fame. And while it befuddles me, as she’s only marginally talented and attractive, I suffer through it only for the entertainment I receive from watching her mismanage her ill-gotten gains. And these are just a few.

Ultimately, I understand just how little all of this matters in the grander scheme of things. I’ve just chosen not to care. Hooray!

Reach the hilarious Libby Hill at [email protected].