The last thing I’m going to write about Ashley Alexandra Dupre.*

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I walked by her apartment in Chelsea last Friday.

I saw a huddle of camera crews and a WNBC-TV reporter sitting in a truck, scribbling notes while reading from the NY Post at the same time. The interest in this nonentity is fascinating to me because I feel that the real story will be missed. In the rush to discuss her connection to Client 9, the Emperor Club, Sean Combs, Girls Gone Wild and continued desecration of pop music, journalists will miss the big story of Ms. Dupre.

Why are so many modern girls so eager to sell their bodies and their bodies doing sex acts when they discover that they have no other real talent?

Paris Hilton, Kim Kardarshian and Ashley are three examples of girls who upon discovering that they could not act, sing, dance, write a song to open the doors to the fame and renown they so eagerly desire automatically went the path of sex tape (or in the case of Ashley, sex work) to get it?

What happened during these girls’ formative years to convince them that being lazy hos was the best thing they had to offer the good old USA? (Yeah, it makes you a lazy ho when you prefer pimping yourself out to reading a book or getting a college degree as a means to make money.) It’s almost as delusional as thinking the President of the United States is going to leave his wife for you because you allowed him to stick a cigar in your vagina.

I can’t even call these girls libertines or sexual renegades because every move they make is designed to create a lifestyle similar to the comforts and complacency of a soccer mom.

That’s what bothers me the most …. their so called sexual freedom isn’t derived from the love of a good old fashioned romp or a heightened appreciation of carnal pleasures ; it’s because they have nothing else of value to offer the world.

*Unless of course she finds the cure for cancer, AIDS and Alzheimer’s.

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