And why would Project Runway allow Victoria Beckham, aka Posh Spice, aka Tasteless Spice, to judge its final competition? Perhaps because of yet another relentless cross-promotion deal the awful details of which we shall be too aware before long.
I confess, I used to read all the Project Runway news, last year. Then a tattooed horse's neck won for his spandex biker collection.
The collection put out by the snippy elf this year was better than that, but not as beautiful or whole as those put out by the dithering ex-dancer and the drapery king. It was perfectly suited to the Guest Judge, however, and once again the P.R. judges could flatter themselves on their youthful edginess. They could otherwise have no excuse for picking a collection that included this number:
I survived Super Tuesday II and all I got was this lousy show. The little man has camped in front of CNN and MSNBC for days watching Senators Clinton and Obama tear into one another, predicting gloomily that Americans are too racist and sexist to elect either one.
The way he's set up the premise, though, neither can lose the general election for any other reason unless they make a painfully obvious, whopping huge blunder.
Sad to say, they are both finding excellent reasons not to vote for them aside from their race and gender, and trumpeting them while the Republicans smirk. I find it too painful to watch, and hide in the other room behind my drawing table.
Project Runway is no longer a guilty pleasure; it's become more of a secret irritant. The sort that chafes.
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