Could It Be Lamar’s?

“Khloé’s pregnant.”

The drugstore cashier looks at me blankly.  I gesture at the tabloid stand beside her register, to indicate the source of both my information and my confusion.

“I don’t even know who Khloé is,” I admit.

She’s with me now.  Heck, she’s way ahead of me.  “Probably one of the Kardashians,” she responds.

D’oh.  Of course: a Kardashian.  A family so famous (for being famous) that even I have heard of them.  

After circling back to the in-store post office to complete my errands, I pass by the same tabloid again on my way out.  This time I have attention to spare for the sub-headline, which I’d missed on the first pass: “Who’s the daddy?”

Ah.  It seems there are five men who could be the daddy.

Cover of Life & Style magazine featuring Khloe Kardashian.


I leave the drugstore feeling . . . I’m not sure what.

Amused by the irremediable silliness of tabloids?

Disgusted by a celebrity culture that sees nothing wrong with a situation in which any of five men might be a baby’s daddy?

Old-fashioned?  Straight-out old?

Maybe all of the above.

Arriving home, I commune briefly with Google to confirm that Khloé is, indeed, a Kardashian.  In doing so, I learn there are more websites devoted to the Kardashians and their antics than I could have imagined.  I also learn some helpful facts:

  • All the Kardashian kuties have K names: Kim, Kendall, Kourtney, Kylie, and Khloé.  Well, of kourse they do.
  • One of the possible fathers is Scott Disick, hitherto unknown to me, but apparently the father of Kourtney Kardashian’s babies.
  • One of the possible fathers is Lamar Odom, Khloé’s husband.

Leaving Khloé, her husband, her supposed lovers, her siblings, and all their fans to whatever the next tabloid cycle brings, I realize I now know exactly how I feel.  I feel relieved.  It’s good to have a happy takeaway from this.

And what would that be, you ask?

Just this: It could, after all, be the husband’s baby.  How charmingly old-fashioned would that be?

Oh, I forgot.  I learned one more thing.  There might not even be a baby.  Stay tuned for next week’s issue, coming soon to a drugstore tabloid stand near you!


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6 Responses to Could It Be Lamar’s?

  1. Apparently the National Enquirer, referred to as “the paper” by Trump, is the only printed news source he will admit to reading. He “hears” things (probably in his own head). Unlike his counterpart Sarah Palin, who reads “all of them, you know, whatever is in front of me, you know, any of them”.

    Pictures of pretty, slutty women who may or may not be pregnant — now THAT’s important. That is “Life Style”. It’s not enough to have a life, it must have a gossipy style.

    I am too old to really care but not old enough to not find it all very curious. I read a few pages of the “rags” every Tuesday on shopping day waiting for John to finish his rounds and meet me at the check-out. I then close them, put them back and revel in my smugness and unshallowness… “Only fun I get all week” to quote the wife of an American diplomat we knew and stayed with in Washington, as she filled up her tank with gas and paid, easily, with her VISA card. All at the pump.

    She later brushed aside the “stiffie” on their fridge: an engraved, gold-bordered invite to an inaugural ball of a Democratic president… same old, same old, I guess.

    • Isabel Gibson says:

      Barbara – Yes, it’s always good to “self check” for that smug reaction. So easy to feel superior – not as easy to be that way!

  2. Ted Spencer says:

    Where would any of us be without the occasional enforced perusal of the checkout line press? We’d be left thinking that yes, there may be hope for the human race. But no: those (which don’t even make good toilet paper no matter how much time you spend mashing and crumpling beforehand) organs of réportage starkly outline that not a few people find it in their hearts to pay for them. They’ve done their job well, too: an electorate is prepared to let a Trump into their hearts. Any guesses at who his successor could be in 8 years? Begins with ‘K’.

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