As we begin to wake in stadiums overflowing with joyous vomit, let us pause, as soberly as possible, and think of the real victims here. Mariah Carey and Mr. Mariah Carey’s new twins.
These ill-starred children were brought screaming into this world slap dab between Wills and Kate (honeymoon baby anyone??) and the assassination of the world’s craftiest evil doer, the Where’s Waldo of the mujahideen. These children are going to be denied a birth right to Star Magazine covers! Why would we want to see the droppings of a pop star’s womb when we could look at close ups of Pippa’s arse or Photoshopped bullet holes on stock photos of Bin Laden? Eh, babies, we’ve seen one, we’ve seen them all. Even if there are two babies. Still seen ’em. Brangelina pulled that one off years ago.
The sad little urchins were even denied names for days, until finally it was revealed to the world that their crosses to bear until they can legally change their names are: Moroccan and Monroe. I would have gone with Methamphetamine and Methadone. Magneto and Marvel Girl. Mirage and Mandalay Bay. Macbeth and Mophelia. Or perhaps I would have plucked the golden goose of Cannon Cannon and Carey Carey.
But these things are not up to me. If the universe wishes to play a joke, it has proven itself capable time and time again. We live in a time of wonder.
