Sometimes modern culture creates things that are so ridiculous you’re simply forced by the laws of good taste to make fun of them: Charlie Sheen, Justin Bieber, assholes naming themselves “The Situation” and “Snookie” and getting their own TV show…for being assholes.
Gwyneth Paltrow’s so-bourgeoisie-it-comes-with-its-own-sitting-room cookbook, “My Father’s Daughter” is one of those things.
So what better to do than take some of the more adorably (read: “embarrassingly”) quotable passages, adorn the requisite beret, cigarette and funny accent, and treat them to the gravitas they so richly deserve. It’s the only sane response, to be honest.
Sometimes people are just asking for it, and Gwyneth Paltrow is apparently one of those people.