ANNA PAQUIN, DREW BARRYMORE, AND REESE WITHERSPOON are just a few of the Hollywood startlets showing off their baby bumps to the paparazzi on the advice of their publicists, of late. Being pregnant is the new hot trend in celeb culture, surpassing the old-fashioned Hollywood method of publicity driven childrearing: Importing Sudanese “orphans”. Yes, 20- and 30-something stars are throwing away their birth control pills, pulling off condoms, and letting their leading men come deep inside of them. Then, the baby Jesus does his magic and nine months later the next generation of Hollywood is born.
It’s the miracle of life. And its being covered by TMZ and Access Hollywood as if conception was just invented.
Unprotected sex hasn’t been this popular since The Smoking Jacket Christmas party of 2010. Riding bareback with the hope of procreation is de rigeur, and with any luck the trend will make its way from Hollywood to the wayward teen bedrooms of Middle America soon. “C’mon, baby. Reese Witherspoon don’t make her man wear a dome. C’mon, baby, just a little further… I’m done, lets play X-Box.”
People have unprotected sex that results in the union of a humanoid egg and sperm, usually occurring in the ampulla of the uterine tube resulting in the production of a zygote (or fertilized egg) initiating prenatal development since the first time Adam spotted Eve without her fig leaf, and thought “Now there’s Daddy’s forbidden fruit.” Over here at Headshots, we got to wondering: What will be the next pedestrian act appropriated by the Hollywood publicity machine.
Here’s a few ideas:
I’m tired of the old one-on-one interview where some model asks some other model questions about things I don’t care about. Let’s mix it up. Let’s have Billy Bush interview George Clooney while a celeb doctor sticks his gloved thumb up Clooney’s ass. It would raise both awareness for cancer screening, as well as the profiles of celebs with flexible anuses. (Ani. Anusi.) Who hasn’t dreamed of being funny-bone-deep inside their favorite star? In a matter of weeks, everyone in America will want a rubber glove up their ass.
Many will even consult a doctor in doing so.
2. BOWEL MOVEMENTS
We’ve all had that friend who is way way way too proud of a good movement. But as much as we shy away from the spectacle of their grand and frighteningly detailed descriptions, wouldn’t a similar affection for the scatological endear a celeb to the general public, just as much as having unprotected sex and then nine months later cracking a vagina in half?
Hollywood loves a good shit joke. Hell, it got Melissa McCarthy an Oscar nom. And just think of the wisdom of a Betty White discussing their many decades of defecating.
3. RAISING HELLCHILDREN
Every photo, video, and feature on a celeb and their kids is an insulting sterilization of what is actually 18 years of legally bound hell. When’s the last time you saw a pic of Kate Hudson spanking her 3-year-old, or Angelina Jolie screaming at her rainbow brood of imported kids as Brad Pitt cries in the guest room? If Hollywood publicists are so damn proud of preggos, why doesn’t some enterprising PR firm get their clients to let the public in on the aftermath.
Think of the headlines: Megan Fox Woke up in a Pool of Urine, Find Out How She Gets the Stains Out of her Eyptian Silk Linen! or Kourtney Kardashian’s Newborn’s Screaming Has Kourtney Ready to Kill Someone, Find Out What Meds She’s On (and Where to Get Yours!)
For years, celebrity culture has made the rest of us feel bad about ourselves. Airbrushed photo spreads in magazines devoid of the flawed, tummy tucks and eye lifts making 40-somethings seem 20-something, and impossibly beautiful people dating other impossibly beautiful people while we sit alone in the basement of our parents’ house forty pounds overweight eating a tub of Häagen-Dazs and masturbating.
Or wishing we could mastubate but we can’t because we’re impotent and our shitty healthcare doesn’t cover Viagra or prostitutes.
So why not an entire TMZ-syle tabloid devoted to pics of celebs eating. And not just eating at the hottest new gastropub, but 4 am binge eating a bag of Doritos and a pint of Strawberry Quik. The first publicist to take advantage of this notion will be able to claim that their client single handedly put an end to teenage anorexia in the Midwest.
Please, someone snap some shots of Mila Kunis in a soiled hoodie wolfing down a Double Big Mac. Please. For the children.
Mike Spry is the author of JACK (Snare Books, 2008), which was shortlisted for the 2009 Quebec Writers’ Federation A.M. Klein Prize for Poetry, and he was longlisted for the 2010 Journey Prize. His most recent work is Distillery Songs (Insomniac Press, 2011).
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