Smell like Paris in the summertime

Paris Hilton is hawking her new, unique aroma. She sent me a sample this weekend in the mail and it's a huge success!

That is, of course, if her goal had been to find the essence of 2 million undeodorized Frenchmen in an overcrowded city with an antiquated water supply system, each burdened by an unquenchable penchant for eating over-ripe cheeses and onions, and reeking of rendered horse flesh and unfiltered cigarettes.

I predict that we won't be the better for this new venture by the queen of classless self-promotion.

Having our teenage girls smelling like they spent a week in the sewers beneath the Champs-Élysées, competing with each other for scraps among dead, bloated rats and suspicious fungi is the last thing we want.

No thanks, Paris. I'd rather my daughter smell of Ernest Borgnine's nutsack than your Can Can.