As we’ve mentioned before, it seems unseemly to credit Paris Hilton with winning anything, so let’s just say that she is the only one who snuck out of Bjork’s intrabracketary spaceship before it took off again for the home planet.

In a way, though, it’s fitting that Paris and Bai should meet up at such a pivotal stage: Both attempt to act every now and then, both are fond of dressing for what we will politely call “maximum impact,” both are best known for something unrelated to having an actual skill, and  both have tried singing (Paris on her album; Bai on VH-1’s But Can They Sing?; if you have our book, you know there is a photo of her from this performing in nothing but a rhinestone bikini).

They’re also both deranged:


And you know what else? They’re both DERANGED:


We’ve tried throughout this tournament to use never-before-fugged pictures whenever possible, even if they’re old, to illustrate a person’s body of work — and these pics give that phrase a very special meaning. Sure, it’s been at least four years since these two dressed like extras from the Ice Sexcapades, but frankly, like sands
through the hourglass, so are the fugs of our lives. Fame is fleeting but a fug is forever. And, of course, fug is a battlefield.

Which brings us back to wondering which one of these bozos deserves to advance to the finals. In Paris’s favor, she has at least parlayed Being Famous For Looking Tacky And Acting Vapid into a career where she is paid actual money in exchange for accomplishing things — like putting her name on a perfume or treating people badly on TV, or panting into a microphone and letting them use Pro Tools to make it a song.

Whereas Bai Ling has actually acted in things that don’t have words like “hottie” and “wax” and “National Lampoon” in the title, and might actually possess a few incredibly sweet personalities kicking
around in there… if we could get past the fact that all of them want
you to be as aware of her nipples as possible. In addition to an incredible array of fug, she also has a priceless blog (!!!!) on which she writes things like — and a big ol’ “[sic]” to all of this — “My name is Samantha, sexy godess, Take me with you any where…on the train, on the plane, on the wall, on a pink cloud… on your big palms…” Sounds like the basis for a freakin’ great outfit to us.

But this is a tough one — truthfully, the best arguments here for them are:

1) Paris is… Paris.

2) Bai is… Bai.

How to choose?