Dear Eric Roberts;
Listen. I understand your need to be in the rash of music videos you've been in lately. Really I get it. No, I totally understand. You haven't really, truly been culturally significant since the Reagan administration and this is your way of exerting some control over your seeming pop-culture exsistence. And nowadays you not only have your sister's shadow, but now your daughter's shadow from which to try and step out of. Not an easy feat is what I'm saying. It's just, well, taking part in a music video for a rapper I've never heard of before, not the way to go about stepping is what I'm saying.
Look, it's not that I don't appreciate your recent contributions to the Music Video art form. I can kind of see why you've taken the offers you did. I'm sure Mariah called and was like "Hey, I need you to play a slightly oily, pretty smarmy character, so essentially you'd be playing yourself." and you were like "Scenery Chewers like myself gotta eat, why not?" And then I'm sure she called you up again and was like, o.k. I need to you to play exactly the same character except I leave you spurned at the alter for Wentworth Miller (which, being the devoted Prison Break fan that I am, I totally do not blame her. I mean Eric Roberts vs. Wentworth "Blue Steel" Miller is very much an uneven fight in my opinion), and you were like "Sure I can do that. Being spurned and heartbroken won't really be a stretch for me, seeing as how I'm still miffed about not being in Julia's Academy Award acceptance speech... I got this one in the bag." And then soon after this, The Killers, or Justin Flowers or perhaps Justin Flowers mustache (more on that later) came a calling and were all "You see that thing you did there in the Mariah video? The thing with the being a spurned paramour? We want that for our video. So, essentially, we want you to play yourself, but slightly more violent but with a Madame Butterfly angle? Think you can handle that?" and you were like "Sure, can I bring my shit-eating grin?" and they're all like "We'd prefer it if you did."
See, all that? I get. I'm cool with, because you're flicking bits of video backdrop out of your teeth and the glitter detritus from The Killers video is everywhere. I appreciate it. But see, some videos aren't really worth you're scenery chewing abilities. Like the one I witnessed this morning, which had you playing the same guy you played (so, essentially playing yourself. Again. My, how you stretch your acting abilities there, Mr. Roberts.) in that Killers video as reenvisioned in a skeezy night club. WTF? No seriously. Why are you taking that role? I mean, I don't think what you're getting for that kind of role would be enough to pay for your SAG union dues, so why take the work? No, I don't understand. Why? Your daughter's about to make Disney money pretty soon, so you shouldn't be aching for the moola, unless you have some illigitimate children who are blackmailing you somewhere and you've been forced to pad your regular salary with these measely scenery chewing gigs to pay off the kids you don't want anybody to know about. But really, I think you should step back, take stock, wait for the checks from big Ole' Mouse Ears to roll in and enjoy life. No more music videos for obscure rappers or otherwise, Mmmmkay? Thanks.
Apparantly co-starring with Mickey Rourke has had some unforeseen long-term side-effects, who knew?
The Bloody Munchkin
Dear Brandon Flower's Mustache;
Die. Just Die. I don't care how. Just get the hell off of his face. You can slip and fall on a strategically placed lady bic and a dollop of shaving cream. You can decide that all your whiskers need to commit mass follicular suicide and you can just fall off his face all at once like all those leaves on that tree in that one scene in Monty Python and the Meaning of Life. I don't want to know the messy details, I just want you gone.
I think I've made it blindingly clear where I stand on the mustache issue. But for those of you just tuning in, I'll give you a refresher. I DO NOT LIKE mustaches. I hate them actually. Hatey-hate. Hate them with a blinding fury that can only be matched by my distaste of Pamela Anderson (which I have also mentioned). I do feel I should clarify on something though. It's not that I detest the mustache in all the forms it takes. I can handle a 'stache if it's paired with other follicular (is that a word? I don't think it is. I think I just made up a word. I'll have to double check with mw.com later) accoutrements. Beard and 'stache? I don't particularly want it up in my grill but from afar I can appreciate it. Stache and strategically placed goatee or soul patch? Yeah sure. Why not? But a mustache for mustache sake? Nothing else but a mustache? Can. Not. Abide. I can't. Especially in Brandon's case. I mean, he wasn't exactly my cup of tea during the Hot Fuss days. Slightly effeminate for my tastes, and somebody should've taken the blush and eyeliner out of his hands, but not bad. But now? Now it looks like a catepillar comprised solely of Ron Jeremy's pubes (shudder) crawled up on his face then signaled the death rattle and left its corpse on his upper lip. It's just too horrible to look at, and yet I can't look away.
Shut Up Brandon Flower's stupid mustache, I hope you meet a horribly tragic end;
Dear Devon Aoki;
Stop being so ubiquitous. Thanks.
At least you weren't brandishing a sword this time;
P.S. Tell you're brother I said hi and to stop being such a douche.
Dear Wierd Al;
Heh. I love that, even in the crazy times in which we live, there is one constant. And that constant is that no song is on such a high pedastal that it can't be parodied to absurd levels. And you happen to be the man to bring that to light, over and over again. "White and Nerdy." Classic. Also, tell Seth Green I liked his cameo and I admire his action figure collection.
I haven't bought any of your records since the Clinton administration, but I admire what it is that you do;
The Bloody Munchkin