TMZ was on a TV near me this morning. I only saw it for a few minutes, but I’ve needed a fucking shower ever since.
Take away the cameras. Take away the studio. If those creeps did what they did while sitting around in some Burbank basement, they would be arrested for eight kinds of conspiracy and nine kinds of harassment.
Porn is a more wholesome endeavor than TMZ, and certainly more worthy of first amendment protection.
If I were a crafty entertainment lawyer, I’d put together a class action lawsuit including all the celebrities that TMZ regularly fucks with. The stalkers at TMZ can cry “freedom of the press” all they want, because this wouldn’t be a simple cease and desist type situation.
I’d argue that they are generating content for entertainment purposes, not news gathering. Sure, they’re protected by the first amendment, but this isn’t about invasion of privacy. It’s about intellectual property. They are monetizing celebrity likenesses without permission, and they owe collective damages.
Fuck it. I’m sure I don’t know what I’m talking about with regard to the law, but our celebrity culture is long overdue for some checks and balances.
Someone sent me a link to this oddball Craigslist post a couple days ago. I was kinda bored, so I decided to go ahead and fuck with the guy a little bit.
The following is the first of several exchanges that are, for the moment, still ongoing:
Honey I Shrunk The Kids role-playing (DC) Date: 2010-05-03, 6:46AM EDT Reply to: email@example.com
This is an odd request, but I am looking for a role-playing partner to do email or instant message-based sessions revolving around various reenactments and recreations of situations similar to those in the Disney classic movie Honey I Shrunk The Kids.
Various aspects of the original movie have always fascinated me. The perspective of being shrunken, and the various interactions with normal every-day objects and situations. My role would be that of a shrunken individual, while yours would be that of the normal sized role.
Out of all of the scenes in the movie that I have always wanted to reenact through role-play is that of the Cheerios scene. Of course, swapping out Rick Moranis for yourself would be preferred.
The requirements for this job: you are a female, you are verbose, descriptive almost to the point of it being ridiculous, very imaginative, and hopefully that you like Cheerios. The ability to take something as simple as moving your hand and creating a moment and event out of it would be preferred as far as detail depth.
If you feel you could be into this, and have plenty of fun doing so, then please reply.
From: Coke Talk <firstname.lastname@example.org> To: email@example.com Date: Tue, May 4, 2010 at 10:09 PM Subject: Honey I Shrunk The Kids role-playing (DC)
Hey there, big guy. (Or should I say, little guy.)
I’ve been paid for some kinky shit in my day, but the Rick Moranis Cheerios scene? Come on. That’s a little bit too hardcore for someone just starting out, don’t you think? If you’re gonna experiment with a little email-based miniaturization role-play fantasy, you wanna go slow at first.
I recommend getting warmed up with something like Innerspace. I’ll be Meg Ryan, and you be a teeny-tiny little Dennis Quaid. We can both pretend to give Martin Short heartburn as you zoom around his colon in an itty-bitty space ship.
If that works out, we can move on to the mid-level stuff. You know, smoke a little weed and get our Willy Wonka groove on. You can play Mike Teevee, and I’ll dress up like a sexy oompa-loompa who shrinks you down with Wonkavision until we have to put you in the special taffy-pulling machine.
After that, maybe a little Beetle Juice or Weird Science, depending on your mood. Once we get the hang of it together, we can start planning for the advanced stuff like Alice in Wonderland and Honey I Shrunk The Kids.
Seriously, nobody fucks with Rick Moranis on their first time out. If you’re not ready, those Cheerios will haunt your dreams, man.
After my first email, I was surprised how quickly the Craigslist shrinky-freak guy responded. I ignored him for most of the day, but eventually my morbid curiosity got the best of me:
From: ***** <*****@yahoo.com> To: Coke Talk <firstname.lastname@example.org> Date: May 5, 2010 8:10 AM Subject: Re: Honey I Shrunk The Kids role-playing (DC)
Dear potential opponent,
I would actually prefer to avoid starting small - figuratively speaking, and go right for the jugular out of the gate. That being said, the fact remains that once put at such a height disadvantage (a quarter of an inch is pretty tiny, no?) I fully realize that life will become a lot more difficult for me. This, however, is one of the main appeals.
The thrill of the perspective, how everything would look from my viewpoint, but most of all interacting with someone else (preferably a woman of normal stature).
If you are interested, I’d love to discuss a basic premise to work from. I would also prefer if Rick Moranis didn’t make an appearance. No, my fascination runs to the point where I prefer that my “opponent” is a giantess by comparison. Even going so far as to set up the plot where you and I are close friends, yet you don’t know of my shrunken presence, could make things even more ironic.
Now, if the real issue here is that you don’t like Cheerios, you can just say. We can work something out, I’m sure there are myriad foods that a hapless shrunken individual could get lost within or upon. Being athletic by nature, I can swim, climb, run, dodge, and hopefully evade and prolong the inevitable.
So what do you say?
From: Coke Talk <email@example.com> To: ***** <*****@yahoo.com> Date: Tue, Wed, May 5, 2010 at 6:56 PM Subject: You can call me Huge Bitch.
I have nothing against Cheerios, and Rick Moranis doesn’t have to make an appearance. Although did you seen him in My Blue Heaven? Rick was totally fuckable in that one, not that I wouldn’t have preferred a little taste of Steve Martin as an Italian gangster, but you get the idea. Either way, this is your freakshow, so I’m fine taking Moranis off the table.
Anyways, I’m glad to hear that you’re athletic by nature. That will come in handy when you’re a quarter inch tall and you’re forced to scale my dildo like its the Washington Monument.
That’s what you mean by prolong the inevitable, right? You want to end up lodged inside my massive vagina? Come on, admit it. All you miniaturization freaks secretly want to go cunt spelunking. You want to hike south through the forests of Mount Bushmore until you find the moist entrance to my cave. You want to put on a miner’s hat and descend into the dark, warm recesses of my womanhood.
Well, I’ve got some bad news for you. Mount Bushmore has been cleared like the rainforests of Brazil, and it’s the wrong time of the month to be visiting my active volcano.
Then again, maybe you’re into that. I dunno.
Tell you one thing, though. This relationship isn’t going to go very far if you keep referring to me as your “potential opponent.” Giantess isn’t much better. It’s your dime, so sure, you can call me whatever you want. All I’m saying is that I’ll probably answer better to something like Huge Bitch.
Okay. I’m gonna go fix myself a big bowl of Cheerios now, and I’ll be sure to check whether I’m eating you with every bite.
The saga continues. Unless he gets really fascinating with his next email, I think we’ll just call it a trilogy and be done with this ridiculousness:
From: ***** <*****@yahoo.com> To: Coke Talk <firstname.lastname@example.org> Date: Wed, May 5, 2010 at 7:38 PM Subject: Re: You can call me Huge Bitch.
It’s actually not my secret agenda to go spelunking into your vagina. The fact remains that I don’t intend any of this to go anywhere overtly sexual. My main fascination lies within the idea of possibly being killed accidentally at the hand of a Huge Bitch. Whether that means literally within your hand, or in any number of other ways is up to you. My preferred situations that I envision are almost always involving me having to somehow avoid being eaten alive by the woman who perhaps either shrunk me to do so, or whom doesn’t even know that I’m there and had accidentally fallen into her/your food.
Do you, Huge Bitch, hold preference to any of those ideas at all? Would you prefer to have shrunken me intentionally for your own reasons? Or would you prefer that I shrank without your knowledge, and perhaps came to you looking for help, only to find that my tiny stature makes me very, very easy to overlook?
Also, if you were to pick, would you play as yourself, or as an actress?
- ***** / morsel
From: Coke Talk <email@example.com> To: ***** <*****@yahoo.com> Date: Fri, May 7, 2010 at 12:42 AM Subject: Re: You can call me Huge Bitch.
Listen up, morsel. I would have been fine with a little cunt spelunking, but you’ve taken this to a creepy place.
You want me to accidentally kill you by eating you alive? Seriously, dude. I draw the line at involuntary manslaughter and cannibalism. That’s how my parents died.
Not cool, man.
I’m gonna go sit in the shower and cry until the hot water runs out.
I’ll probably be in there sobbing for a while. If someone were only a quarter inch tall, it’d be a perfect opportunity to use a bobby pin as a makeshift raft to paddle one’s way up inside my vagina.
This is a new track named Mandy, and this bitch ain’t taking any of Barry Manilow’s shit. She’s too busy looking fabulous in a cocktail dress while doing blow off a granite countertop at some sleazy producer’s dinner party in the hills.