I totally get your Kardashian anger, Vogue readers.

Some people wonder why you wasted all that time being upset about Kim Kardashian on the Vogue cover.  "She's just getting her money and not hurting anyone." Someone probably told you to stop hating, because they have no idea how to form a legitimate argument.  But I understand, Vogue readers.  That's right, Thad Ochocinco, sporadic blogger who knows nothing about anything outside of sports or comic books, feels your pain. 

To sum it all up, It's worlds colliding, except no one asked or wanted them to. 

See, on some level, people read shit like Vogue so they don't have to deal with lowbrow shit like the Kardashians.  It's supposed to be a safe space away from all of that.  People who like the Kardashians have the E! Network, where they can have all of the Kardashians and Chelsea Handler and Joan Rivers that they can handle.  The rest of us program our cable boxes to skip over the E! Network, because ignorance of what is on that channel is bliss.  "You keep that over there, and I'll stay over here."  "I don't bother you and you don't bother me."  It was like a storefront church in the middle of a red light district, except that in this metaphor, the Kardashians are actually the church and the red light district is the rest of the free world.  You know, come to think of it, maybe this metaphor doesn't work.

But to stick with it, say the church starts venturing out to convert the people.  Now, my ambisexual S&M Massage parlor isn't hurting anyone, but here comes this nun, trying to save souls, which kills my business.  She's making people think that there's something wrong with the sexual gratification of a massage while being whipped by a person of an unidentifiable sex.  But we had an understanding:  You keep inside the church, and I won't have your building firebombed by the mob underboss who controls this neighborhood.  Basically, this metaphor can also double as the pitch for Quentin Tarantino's Sister Act.

That's what's happening here.  Kim Kardashian is invading what was supposed to be a Kardashian-free zone, and we all deserve one of those, because without it, we're likely to devolve into whatever we call people from Tennessee.  She's breaking the terms of the agreement, and a lot of people are upset.  True, it wasn't her decision (the editor of Vogue said this would never happen, then magazine sales got low), but Vogue readers didn't want this.  Vogue readers (I guess, because I don't know any) believe that they're too high class to watch a show about two sisters smelling each other's vagina sweat (this actually happened on "Keeping Up With the Kardashians").  When the bar is that low, I'm not gonna say that they're wrong for feeling that way.

Usually, when worlds collide, something good comes out of it, like when the Justice League fought the Avengers, when Larry Bird played against Magic Johnson, when Spider-Man started selling Twinkies in the 1970s.  That was both adventurous and delicious.  This is more like what happened to Ashlee Simpson at the Orange Bowl.  Or when RoboCop showed up on WCW Capital Combat.   Yeah, worlds were colliding, but in the same way that the world of sports cars sometimes collide with the world of the underside of a truck.  There was symbolic blood everywhere that night, and it was in the form of Sting's expression when he realized that he was actually standing in front of people pretending to be saved by RoboCop.

So I understand the anger of Vogue readers, and you should, too.  For all everyone's talk of "She's just doing her thing, let her make her money," or whatever stupid shit people say to make it appear like they're above it all, you know you'd be pissed if someone tried to feature her useless ass in three episodes of The Walking Dead.