Hollywood is a weird place. It’s even weirder than Hellhole, although not by much. They say that there aren’t true stars anymore. Not like in the old days, with Marilyn Monroe and Cary Grant. Those who are famous today, have been predicted to disappear from our memories in not very long, only to be replaced by someone prettier and skinnier, who will, in turn, be replaced by someone even more so, and so on and so forth.But who is to say that our heroes of today will be gone tomorrow? I’ve been thinking about this lately, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably not true. After all, the average Hollywood megastar has had so much work done, the largest organ in their bodies is… well… plastic.
And what happens to plastic once it’s no longer useful for its current purpose? It’s recycled, that’s what happens. They melt it down and turn it into buttons or soda bottles or fleece jackets or those block-things that you build basements with.
A few years from now, you might be able to keep your shirt closed, and thereby your dignity intact, thanks to whatever part of Michael Jackson’s nose that didn’t rot off. Or how about taking a sip of Cola from what used to be bits and pieces of Pamela Anderson. Especially the bits.And just imagine taking that arrogant, looking-down-his-nose-at-you neighbour to have a look at your newly decorated den in the basement. All you have to do is lean up against the fireplace (there has got to be a fireplace, obviously), make a small handgesture and utter the words: “all Cher.” That’ll teach him.
Actually, with Cher you could probably have a fancy den, all the fizzy drinks you could handle and enough fleece jackets to last you a lifetime – with buttons.
Marilyn Monroe pic by Coda for www.Flickr.com
Broken Barbie pic by Wiseacre photo for www.Flickr.com
