Monday, May 02, 2005

PHCSF Pledge Drive '05—fin.
Well, it’s May, which means that the whirlwind marathon of charitable porn-hunting known as the Paris Hilton Crotch Shot Foundation Pledge Drive ’05 is officially over. And frankly, I’m freaking glad. Words cannot express how sick I am of counting crotch hits twice a day, even if it is for a good cause. But this is a time for celebration, not bitter recrimination or suicidal depression.

And why, my dear WULAD, is that, you ask? Because this year’s pledge drive resulted in six hundred fifty-one hits over three weeks. And when our five generous donors make good on their pledges, which I know they will—the UNICEF Tsunami Fund will be receiving a grand total of... crotch roll, please...

One hundred thirty-four dollars and sixty-three cents! Woo hoo!

Really, though, that’s pretty good. It should be able to make somebody’s misery a little less miserable, all through the magic of Ms. Hilton’s famous crotch, and the legions of dedicated seekers who trolled the internet tirelessly in search of said crotch, twenty-four hours a day—these are the real heroes.

(Touchingly, these same seekers are still accessing this site as we speak, even though the pledge drive is over and they don’t stand to raise any more money for charity; for these hearty souls, it is truly a labor of love.)

If you’re one of the pledgers, the PHCSF Paperwork Patrol will sending your invoice soon—but that’s such an ugly word for a beautiful thing. Let’s call it a Winvoice® instead. Because, see, you Win, and also you give a Voice to the voiceless. I should really be getting paid for this shit.

And what if you meant to pledge, but just didn’t get around to it? Lucky for you, I’ve got the web address right here, so you can get out your virtual checkbook and start atoning for the sins of your youth. Just a few dollars to avoid eternal hellfire—you’ll be glad you did.

And now, for the closing remarks, it’s time to turn the final proceeds over to someone without whose crotch the PHCSF Pledge Drive ’05 would never have been possible... a woman whose crotch needs no introduction... Ladies and gentlemen—Ms. Paris Hilton.

“Zank you, dahlings.

"In Washington's day the task of the people was to create and weld together a nation. In Lincoln's day the task of the people was to preserve that Nation from disruption from within. In my crotch’s day the task of the people is to save that crotch and its institutions from disruption from without. To us there has come a time, in the midst of swift happenings and my new movie House of Wax™, to pause for a moment and take stock—to recall what my crotch’s place in history has been, and to rediscover what it is and what it may be. If we do not, my crotch risks the real peril of isolation, the real peril of inaction.

"But in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow—this crotch. The brave web surfers, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what I say here, but it can never forget what my crotch did here.

"Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that if my crotch and Wrapped Up Like A Douche last for a thousand years, men will still say, 'This was their finest hour.'

"Fans, for the past two weeks you have been reading about a bad break my crotch got. Yet today I consider myself the luckiest millionaire heiress on the face of the earth.

"And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what my crotch can do for you—ask what you can do for my crotch.

"Good night St. Louis!!" [Vomits into audience.]