Celebrity children are literally the best thing. Like, the best. Hailing from the hip-happening streets of Hollywood’s gated communities, these cutie patooties are quite clearly the most highly evolved type of human imaginable. Imagine having nothing but the DNA of two gorgeous, pouty famous people replicating inside you forever and ever ad infinitum! Imagine being super fucking wealthy and infallibly popular just ‘cos everyone wanted to bang your dad in the 80s! What an honour, what a way to live!
When first-generation celebs have babies, they bestow a gift upon the world. They’re creating an ideal of what human beings can and should be. New ‘normal’ (not on my watch!) parent: look down at your own troubled tyke and realise all the ways in which that little scamp will never ever, not even once manage to measure up to a second generation Barrymore or third generation Arquette. And it’s all on you and your poor life choices, you crusty, infamous, asymmetrical mess. LOL!
No wonder the world’s gone celebrity baby crazy. In these dark times of moral relativism and overstimulated apathy, we need these bright young things just to make it through the days. Personally, I know that if I have had an awful time at work, if I’ve fought with my loved ones, or if Mercury’s in retrograde, I just gotta know what’s up with Patrick ‘Pattyboy’ Schwarzenegger or Kate Hudson. Even an update on Bryce Dallas Howard will do if I’m really in a pinch. I’m serious! Just let me know that these glowing, dewy-skinned beacons of humanity have had a great day grabbing lunch at Nobu and maybe stopping by a Wholefoods on the way to the gym. How’s Dakota Johnson doing? Well, I hope! When I know that these more highly evolved beings are doing fine, it gives me a content feeling inside and makes the ceaseless suffering of my disgusting existance seem worthwhile. They help me just get through the days. Shoutout Gavin and Gwen, cos lil’ Kingston Rossdale and his bleached crop of hair saved my life! I wonder how he feels about Blake Shelton?! What a fascinating kid!
The best thing for me about 2015 has been that we don’t even really care who the famous parents are anymore. Literally any former C-lister’s spawn will do. Sure, we’re still obsessing over Willow and Jaden Smith, who are the offspring of two bona fide A-listers (even if one of them mostly just works in TV, blech!). But now we also get to worship Bella and Gigi fucking Hadid! These ladies are my girls! Well, technically not, ‘cos they’re actually Yolanda Foster’s girls, but I like to feel that Yolanda can rely on my protective gaze to stay trained on these lovely young ladies whilst she’s off doing whatever ex-models do. Imagine being the daughter of a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills. It’s almost too much to fathom. The first time the world got some good quality, clear pap pics of Kendall Jenner and Gigi Hadid hanging out, I literally had to stop for a hot minute ‘cos I couldn’t even breathe.
OMG, remember The Simple Life? That show was the best! When Paris and Nicole pretended to date those small-town hicks I totally lost it! Just imagine?! Gross! Ahahaahahaaaaa!
Ooops, I’ve wandered from the point! Soz. The roundabout point is definitely that given the proven track record of celebrities to produce super hot, super chill kids with sass and panache, what the hell are we doing allowing these deified beings to mate outside of their own superior gene pool? I reckon once a hot young celeb has had their fill of the limelight we retire them to safari parks, where they roam the landscape procreating with one another as us normals gawp on from our jeeps (which are locked to protect the celebrities from us, rather than us from them). That way we get to feel bad about the boring, repellent sex we’re confined to in our mortal lot, whilst ensuring that our glistening, long-limbed overlords are safely entrenched as constant reminders of our inadequacy.
I’d also like to add the caveat that none of this applies to Angelina Jolie, who I’m not convinced is not just a nipped and tucked Jon Voight, star of Holes. Anyway, her kids just seem a bit boring really. Sure, they’ll be hot and live a charmed life, but they’ll also have seen things, you know? In my opinion, she should’ve banned them from going on any of her humanitarian missions. Why sully perfection and light with such darkness, Angie? Let celebrity babies SoulCycle in peace goddammit!
And you, Brad – you’re just gonna stand by and let her rob your kids of their God-given sense of entitlement? Jeez
