If you don’t live in Los Angeles, you may not be familiar with Fred Segal, a retail establishment frequented by pop stars and wealthy anorexics. Long ago, I realized that Fred Segal is in league with Satan. But yesterday, I forgot.

Feeling bored and oppressed by existential malaise, I went to Fred Segal to look at earrings. I have been fixated on the idea of gold safety pin earrings and I knew Fred Segal would have some. It’s a knowledge based on the type of people who shop there and a dark intuition fostered by Satan Himself.

So there I was, in the full glory of unemployment, when the salesgirl said, “Yes, we do have gold saftey pin earrings!” She produced five pairs of earrings, one covered in tiny emeralds.  I tried on one earring and thought, Okay, got to have them.

I handed my credit card to the salesgirl, my heart pounding with excitement and guilt. The voices in my head argued about the purchase, with the Addict Voice taking the lead. “So what if you can’t afford them, so what!”

The salesgirl was having trouble with her computer. It wouldn’t recognize my card or anything else. She apologized and decided to reboot the computer.

As I waited, I felt the sense of deranged lust for the earrings start to wane. I could already predict the remorse. Maybe I didn’t even need to buy them. I told the salesgirl while she struggled, “If this goes on much longer, I will take it as a message from god that I don’t need these earrings.” She laughed and said, “No, it’s just a message from this computer, don’t worry, I’ll get it to work.”

She called a supervisor who tried to give her directions over the phone. Now I was sure: I didn’t give a shit about the earrings! Life would go on without them. In fact, life would be much, much better without them!

I reached over and grabbed my credit card and said. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go now. Too bad it didn’t work out.”

I marched out of there as fast as my wonky hip would allow, dizzy with the joy of missing a bullet. God was stronger than Satan and I owe Him one. If he would hide my fucking credit card, so much the better.

Why does Tallulah’s head always look like it was photo-shopped on to her body? It has the same jarring appearance in every picture. Does it jut forward around cameras, or is she without benefit of a neck?

When her internship at Bazaar was announced, the magazine had to backtrack and say that she was only going to be “observing” there. At age 15, an internship would violate child labor laws. Awww. Poor Tallulah.

With her impeccable style, this girl shouldn’t waste her time palling around with fashion editors. She should just enroll at Brown, like her older sister, Scout.

Here, with her head slightly more in proportion to her body, Tallulah dresses modestly so as not to upstage the Brown-quality intellect that is Scout Willis. I love that Scout has chosen to pursue higher education.   I hope she will eventually study neurosurgery and theology. Then, she can either break her mom’s contract with the devil, or create a psychotropic drug that induces prosopagnosia.

Is it mean to make fun of the Willis girls? Did god create them as a test of character for the rest of us? What lessons can we learn from them?

Mmmmm, now this is a jacket I’d touch my face for! Why does it have to be $500? Brian Lichtenberg, can’t you please give me one for free, after all I’ve been through?

Check out this abomination: “Punk Pants” by McQ – Alexander McQueen. It’s a skirt, it’s leggings, it’s harem pants, it’s making me want to kill myself.   Shopbop, of course.

Meet Tallulah, Rumer’s sister. At 15, she snagged an internship at Bazaar magazine. Demi Moore’s deal with Satan continues to smite her children. What a fucking cunt! 

I can’t help wondering if a contract with the devil is legal and binding. Shouldn’t Demi try to get out of it, just out of common decency?