what kind of fuckery is this? - hollywood edition

if the death of johnny grant says anything about the state of affairs in Hollywood proper...he should be turning in his grave. that's supposed to be indiana jones. homey in the back is not buying it either.

i know harrison ford is up there in years, but god bless him. if not but for the infinite amounts of cash he's reaping from returning to ONE of the roles that made him famous, its his fuck it approach to being nearly 70 and still running around whipping people and trying to find crystal skulls, temples of doom, lost arks and what have you. even sean connery was like...peace out.

but this guy? this guy was wearing khakis with a visible Dockers insignia and carrying a ROPE and a Sony handicam. HE'S SUPPOSED TO BE THE ATTRACTION. AND INDIANA JONES' CHARACTERS IS FROM THE 1930's or 40s. Sound in film was a phenomena at this point.

WTF.

Then there's this assclown...


talking about you can't take pictures of Freddy without paying first. Whatwhatwhat?



wasn't this a Nip/Tuck episode? why are you broads walking together? suspend SOME KIND OF DISBELIEF for the millions of wide eyed tourists who flew thousands of miles to take in Hollywood. Marilyn is dearly departed, we know...but you can't walk around in her SOME LIKE IT HOT garb together, at the same time. I wish I had taken a picture of the Goth/straight edge Charlie Chaplin. His cane twirl was PATHETIC.

and this poor bastard...


Hollywood makes me sad sometimes. As convenient as it is...its truly the district of lost dreams.

When I was little, my mom took me to see Pippi Longstocking at the Children's Museum. I was so stoked. Here was my chance to meet my first cultural icon of my youth. I read all her books, was passionate about her travels, her great relationship with her father, her monkey, how she would pop someone in the face if they screwed with her, how she could do practically anything she wanted...I lived vicariously though her tomfoolery and mischievious Robin Hood-esque lifestyle. I talked about it in pre-school for days...and finally, that summer Saturday, it came time for the meeting.

We arrive, I BOUND out of the Volvo and into the grassy area looking for the red mop and baby doll dress. I imagined she was my height, and age and we would spend the entire day playing until we fell restlessly into the sand eating Hostess cupcakes that I would introduce her to. We'd sing songs, play on the swings, she'd tell me about her time on the seas with her Papa and I'd tell her about my Daddy taking me to his work where he'd bring me on the runway to watch the planes land and take off. The envy of all the kids stuck at the gate. Then our parents would pull us apart as we cried and promised to write.

Uh no.

We got there and I make my way through the crowd and there she was: this 50 year old lady, wrinkled, make-up running, teeth yellow and voice raspy. I fell apart. My mother so incredibly embarrassed dragged me away as I wailed "THAT'S NOT PIPPI, THAT'S SOME LADY!! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME, MOMMY, WHY??" I don't think I spoke to my mom for the rest of the day. I never watched Pippi again.

The moral is, the fuckery on Hollywood Blvd. ruins dreams. I am willing to start a petition to put an end to this ridiculousness. Or start a petition for them to get better character costumes and at the very least some decent look-a-likes.

Of course I only go to H&H 2 times a year, so I think I can stomach the trauma 2 of 365 days a year.