To be honest, I actually did have it on in the next room last night, and saw things as I walked in and out that horrified me. Billy Crystal, the once-funny comic, is now at age 63 a ghoulish caricature of his former self, with a bizarre clown face stretched so taut it might just burst if he smiles too hard. Plus, he looks sort of like my Grandma. I also saw Angelina Jolie, an actress who might be beautiful and sexy on Mars, baring her anorexic arms and sticking out one anorexic leg from a slit in her dress to supposedly get everyone watching all excited. But the moment that caused me to shout "Yikes!" was when everyone's favorite Latino, Jennifer Lopez, in a flesh-toned, glittery mermaid dress, shared the limelight with her very own nipple.
Turning off the TV, I reviewed what I had learned: That despite their fame and riches, the Hollywood elite are a pack of superficial dimwits, for the most part lacking the happiness, inner peace, self-knowledge and acceptance of death we all hope to find. I'll never understand why we, as a society, pay them all so much money just to pretend, while our nurses and teachers and waiters and trash collectors and construction workers earn so much less while doing so much more to enhance our lives. That should stop, and as soon as possible.