New portal to Hell discovered – the Kardashian Kloset

New portal to Hell discovered – the Kardashian Kloset

Perhaps this practical frock is available in the Kloset.

Just in case record inflation, sick gas prices and ever-morphing Covid variants aren’t enough to ruin your happy day, I have discovered a whole new portal to Hell. It’s called the Kardashian Kloset.

I categorically never click on anything Kardashian-related, having reached my saturation point in 2014, when Kimmy K. posed for the cover of some vapid rag naked, with a champagne glass balanced on her shelf-like arse, while popping some Dom and aiming it over her head into the glass. (This photo shoot wasn’t even an original idea. The very scary model/actor Grace Jones had been photographed performing the stunt in 1982.)

What a talented bunch the K’s are! But I digress.

So a few week ago, there I was online, dodging Kardashsian cyber landmines, when I stumbled across this site called Kardashian Kloset. (If it belonged only to Kim, it could be called the Kim Kardashian Kloset, or KKK, which probably wouldn’t have sat too well with ex-hubby Kanye.)

The website sells cast-off clothing allegedly worn by an actual Kardashian, from “momager”/ madam Kris to her stable of daughters – Kinky, Koko, Kooky, Klassy and of course, the center of the K-Universe, Kim. In case you are wondering, there also is garbaj from the brother, Skippy or whatever his name is, and even their children. The Skippy offerings are mostly size 2X shirts; the kids’ mainly high-end sports shoes.

So far, no used Pete Davidson duds, but it’s only a matter of time.

Each K-woman has her own “collection.” All designer, of course – everything from robes to bandage dresses to accessories. Even some bras and bodysuits (eeeeeew). There is nothing over size Miniscule and the stuff is pricey. There are no returns, exchanges, refunds or cancellations, no phone number to call or text to; you can’t even send an e-mail inquiry unless you first make a purchase. Call it upscale arrogance.

In spite of all the rules, the stuff sells like mad. I imagine the core buyer to be a self-christened “fashionista” in her teens or early 20s, who saves for months for a piece of this crap and thereafter considers herself an “influencer.” Sad.

I know we are a capitalist society, and that mondo-wealth stems best from branching out and leveraging (just ask Jay-Z), but how much is enough? Several of the K’s are bona-fide billionaires, and the net worth of even the lowliest Kardashian is in the hundreds of millions. The great-grandchildren of these people will never have to work. Must they add a comparatively few paltry shekels by selling their used underwear? It’s nauseating to know that we live in a society that gives cachet to the used frocks and undies of a family famous only for self-aggrandizing.

I am a major Barbra Streisand fan, but I’m sure not hankering after a pair of her used drawers.

I am unaware of if the K-Clan gives anything to charity. I suppose they might, but frankly, they don’t exactly seem the altruistic type. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the proceeds from the Kloset went to a Los Angeles battered-womens’ shelter or food bank? Alas, that’s probably as probable as Kim getting a butt reduction.

This is a family who got famous via ass-enhancing plastic surgery, specious marriages, sex tapes, a bazillion selfies, and being photographed in nothing but ugly, skin-tight clothing. Thereafter came their makeup and bodywear businesses, but always remember that their success is based upon sex, plastic surgery and no talent for anything else. They make the Gabors look like the Barrymores by comparison.

Old-time comic George Jessel once said, at the SRO funeral of some hated studio head, “Well, there you are, you see – give the people what they want!”

How sad to think that in a world filled with higher ground, that the avaricious Kardashians and their brothel-circus are what America wants. Truly, we are going to hell in an Hermes handbasket.

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Michelle Babicz

Hello, my babies! Here on Planet Michelle (Earth name: Michelle Babicz), you will find satire, song, sexy stuff and other musings from my little monkey brain. And of course, a schmear of politics, as my stomach will allow. / I live over by there, have a foreclosure cat named Lou and currently am between husbands (!! hopefully, not yours). Enjoy your orbit!

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