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June 7, 2004 #
Dear Prudence: David Beckham, Why don't you open up your eyes...no one gives a shit about you in America. Doesn't matter that you're on the cover of Vanity Fair, it might as well be Paul Gascoigne who at least has a personality. Look, Robbie Williams couldn't break into the U.S. market with a closely shaved haircut and chiseled body, neither will you. And he can sing. This is coming from someone who even casually follows "the beautiful game", but world soccer celebrity means as much to the average American as the NASCAR Craftsman Truck Series does to people who spend their holiday in the South of England on beaches composed of pebbles. Your marriage to ex-Spice Girl Posh (who didn't even pose naked like the rest), the fact you named your kid Brooklyn (that's just plain moronic), and confirmations of marital infidelity add nothing to our potential interest. We've had a President get a hummer in the Oval Office from an intern and our sports stars brag about banging 10,000 women from coast to coast where fathering illegitimate children is just an assumed cost of the game. Fooling around with an assistant in Spain seems like a rider clause provided in your Real Madrid contract. The only way your story translates trans-Atlantic is if you start engaging in orgies with Madonna and Guy Ritchie. And then only if the camera is rolling. Sincerely, The Other Page Archives "The Other Page" powered by Removable Hype. RSS. Copyright © 2003 La Otra Página, Inc. All nights observed. Feel free to email "info(at)krucoff.com" for questions, comments, stock tips, and family gossip. |
