The facts are incidental. Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck have not split up. Put that terrible lie right out of your head. The truth is that Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck may never have existed at all. With increasing frequency, I'm overcome with a vague and misty feeling that they and their subsequent relationship farce are just an alcohol-induced, nightmarish, and complex hallucination, conjured by my tortured subconscious during a semiconscious tequila bender featuring a rambunctious all-night blowjob from Matt Damon. I expect to wake myself screaming at any moment.
Or. Perhaps the two massively overexposed freaks have already wed secretly in a secret ceremony somewhere far-flung and appropriately, as we've discussed, secret. Either way, Matt Damon is and will always remain cuter and talenteder than both J.Lo and Ben put together, times pi. If they really do exist, naturally.
"My lovely wife and I spotted Jack-ass superstar Jason 'Wee Man' Acuña at Scooter's pet store in Capitol Hill. He was with a cute, Mohawked, tattooed girl and was checking out the hamsters. He seemed to find them quite amusing--Murph." Smashing.
Oh, and guffaw. Guffaw, faw. Bruce Willis. I've always been fondly warm of the Bush-loving schmuck (a fact forgivable only due to Bruce's performance as Dr. Ernest Menville in Death Becomes Her, my 32nd most cherished film after Pee-wee's Big Adventure), but have you heard? In a speech to American armed forces in Iraq, Bruce said he'd slide a million big Hollywood bucks over to the GI who rounds up the ever mysteriously errant Saddam Hussein, adding, "If you catch him, just give me four seconds with him," a statement which is--alternately and equally--laughable, despicably macho, slightly dirty, and perhaps just a drop Freudian, if you think about it. Really hard. For a long time.
And Madonna--great big bitch? Well, when she did an honest-to-God scheduled appearance at a Barnes & Noble (for Christ's sake--remember when she wouldn't appear for her own bowel movements?) to promote her new kiddies' book, she had all the copies presigned and refused to personalize autographs! And the cameras of fans? Right. Confiscated. Word. I cut the bitch, she try to take my camera.
And let's conclude with Winona Ryder's flagrant attempt to abuse sacred celebrity power by trying to dazzle cuts in line to the bathroom at a recent art show, and the guy who refused her getting a round of applause from fellow would-be urinators, because, well, it's damn funny. That's why.
