Oh, for the love of all that's holy, Jessica Cutler's got a TV deal now too? Why, why, why is our nation celebrating and generously compensating a chick who proudly spilled the beans about her political booty calls? It used to be that we as a nation would fork over some cash to peruse the steamy memoirs of someone who was famous for SOMETHING ELSE AS WELL.
Honestly, are we so strapped for gossip that we'll make TV shows and movies about any celebutard who snags 15 minutes o'fame? If this were, say, ten years ago, I can't help but feel like this story would've been one of those sobering four-page "It happened to me, names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved" features in Cosmo. But alas, no. Now, these kinds of life experiences generate multimedia empires.
Yay for progress!
One tiny bit of consolation...her pseudo-eponymous book has plunged in Amazon.com's rankings to #33,281, whereas Moby Dick (the book to which I originally compared rankings back in June, 2005) is at #3,191. Cold comfort, eh?
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