Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Auntie Kati's Advice To The Stars

At times the news of the world becomes so much more entertaining than anything happening on screen, I find I must put away my critic's hat and pull out my advice apron, solving all the world's problems one coffee klatch at a time.

Dear Republicans in America (Or, as I like to call you, The Gay Fantasia on National Themes),

Well, I think it’s time you woke up and smelled the poppers. The problem isn’t that many prominent members of your party happen to be gay. It’s that they’re SO BAD AT IT. The Mark Foley business was pretty much a disaster, finding out that the legislator in charge of taking care of the pages was in fact using the pages as a kind of informal dating service. Now not one but two significant advisors to your Presidential nominees have been caught soliciting sex in public bathrooms. The President of the National Young Republicans was caught forcing his unwanted affections on a sleeping roommate. Then there’s that awkward business with the GOP strategist in Florida who was killed in what might be a gay love triangle, or simply a gay line with unfortunate collateral damage.

In each of these cases it's pretty clear that the problems are not "gay" problems but plain old manners problems. Regardless of your orientation, it's poor manners to induce your young employees to do drugs and have sex with you. It's poor manners to solicit for any kind of sex in public places. It's poor manners to try and have sex with a vague aquaintance who happens to be asleep. It's definately poor manners to kill people.

But you Republicans have got yourselves in such a tizzy over the gayness, you apparently don't know the difference between "gay" and "rude", which is why I think it's imperative the Republican Party immediately institute an Etiquette of Homosexuality Bootcamp. Like teaching kids that the only acceptable approach to sex is to never have it, forcing your fledgling homos out into the world with no education or guidance only leads to this kind of embarrassment and tragedy. First on the agenda: Washed-up, drug-addled 80s pop star George Michael is not an acceptable role model, nor should he be counted on for sound dating advice.

Special message to Larry Craig: Dear Mr. Craig, You are a ‘mo. Everyone knows you are a ‘mo. By this point, even your wife knows you are a ‘mo. Most people figured it out in 1987 when you issued a public statement denying your ‘mo-ness, even though no one had accused you of it. (In poker parlance, this is what’s known as “a tell”.) So do us all a favor and come out already. I know this is scary seeing as you’re from Idaho and all, but just think of the inspiration you could be! You could be Grand Marshal of the Pocatello Gay Pride Day Parade! On the other hand, if you insist on hiding this truth even from your own self, as you seem determined to do, please remove yourself from the public eye. I refer you to the surprisingly relevant story of The Emperor’s New Clothes. You may be prepared to live in denial, but you can’t expect everyone around you to ignore the obvious.

Dear Britney Spears,

It’s really kind of amazing what you’ve accomplished recently. In a matter of months you’ve transformed your ex-husband K-Fed from a washed up white trash home boy to Father of the Year, just by being you! Clearly you’re not alone in riding the drugs and alcohol career spin cycle, but unlike Li-Lo, The Paris, Nicole Richie or Paula Abdul, you have two children.

In addition, unlike most of the aforementioned, you show no signs of trying to break out of your downward spiral. In fact, you’re looking more and more like a certain dead drug addled former model by the day, and I don’t mean Marilyn Monroe. You’ve got the thousand mile stare and bags you could mule kilos in under your eyes. John Stewart’s prediction of you doing porn within five years now seems really optimistic. Honestly it seems only a matter of time before you’re found dead in a pile of coke with gallons jugs of methadone in your fridge.

Plenty of people have told you to stop, so instead of lecturing you on the dangers of drug abuse let me offer you a little enlightenment instead. When you finally lose your babies in court, or have them seized during that ill planned attempt at emigrating to London you’re cooking up (read all about it in OK!, but your secret is safe with me), look around. The place that you will be is what is known as “rock bottom”. At that point, you will have a choice between lying down in the grave you’ve been digging yourself, or to start the difficult process of climbing out of it. I hope you choose the latter, not so much for the sake of the music industry, but definitely for the sake of your kids.

Dear Owen Wilson,

Dude? Dude! Dude.

Even now you are soooo much cooler than Matthew McConaughey it’s not even funny, and in Hollywood, cooler than Matthew McConaughey=Everything to Live For.

No joke.

Stay Butterscotch, Stallion Boy!

Dear Evan Rachel Woods,

I admit, after Thirteen, I had high hopes for you. You reminded me a lot of the actress Sarah Polley who, granted, sets a high bar. She’s an awesome actress and now, at age 26, just directed a major motion picture. You’re barely 20, so I wasn’t expecting you to direct anything yet, but I was looking forward to whatever you chose to use your major league talent on next.

Imagine all of our surprise to find you used it to film yourself having sex with your boyfriend Marilyn Manson (only 18 years your senior), which you guys then released as a “music video”. Ok, granted, you’ve taken a proactive step which others like Paris Hilton weren’t smart enough to do. Don’t wait ‘til someone leaks that stuff, package and release it yourself and cut out the middle man. Savvy!

Yes, I get that you were “acting”, but theoretically so are porn stars. They’re “acting” like they’re having sex in private when in fact they’re having sex in front of millions! You were acting like you were having sex in a rain storm of blood, when in fact I’ll be it was that fake Hollywood blood stuff they make with food coloring and Karo syrup.

I also get that you luuuurrrrrve Marilyn and the video shows your love as the beautiful, artistic, blood soaked thing it apparently is. And I get that Marilyn “gets” you and lets you be you and you’re soul mates and everything. You would not be a 20 year old female if you did not feel that way about your man. Granted, your man is a 38 year old with the emotional maturity of a 12 year old, or perhaps an oversexed 6 year old, who explained to anyone who would listen that he left his miserable, evil ex-wife for you because you don’t mind if he stays up all night. Upon this is what sound relationships are founded? You don’t enforce bedtime? But I digress.

I do worry about you, and the other starlets of your generation. You’re coming of age in this really weird time, where magazines do cover articles about young starlets' 18th birthdays, counting down the minutes ‘til they’re “legal”. It’s really quite creepy. It would be a shame to see you neglect your talent for acting because your boyfriend convinces you that your real talent is public nudity. You might have made that video thinking you wanted to show the world how beautiful and pure your love is, but unfortunately most of the world will now only think, hey, that chick does not mind doing it on camera. I notice on IMDB that your STARmeter is down 40%, and it looks like your HSX stock is dropping too. As drops your trou, so drop your numbers. Coincidence?

Special note to all the starlets out there everywhere: For Heaven's sake would you put on some underwear please? Seriously, you are making all the grandmothers in heaven cry. Everytime one of you is photographed with your cootchie hanging out, Jesus has to kill a puppy. This must stop! For the sake of Jesus, grandmas and puppies everywhere, it must stop!!!