I wonder...
So, I'm going to try and wrap things up in this blog. I think 6 blogs about you is, maybe, more than anyone might want. Particularly you. I mean, "6" is two sets of "3" which is a magic number. I mean, I could keep going to "9," which is 3 sets of 3 (and I certainly don't have to tell you that, math genius!). And, of course, "9" is your lucky number. But then, what is "9" if not simply an upside down "6"? Speaking of numbers; let's talk about my paycheck and just be done with it. So, by my calculations, you owe me 3 installments of of $250,000.000, That's the finders fee for the Good Will Hunting sequel. The advance on the finished script. And then the consult fees for Gemini and Tiburon. Oh, and Drugs and Other Love. So, that makes $1,250,000.00. That does not include, however, the original artwork of your mouth with toothbrush, which is as of yet untitled. I think we agreed on a price of $250,000.00 for that. So, our grand total is (according to my math), a cool $1.5 million. But I'll make a deal with you. I'll throw in the artwork gratis, as a nod to our newfound friendship. You could gift it to Chris H. (he would totally get it!).
So, he like "chaired" the Met Gala this year? Good on ya mate! I mean, Harvey Sid does mention Leo's flair for fashion. And of course your sister-in-law, J-Lo made quite the splash in her finery. And you and your wife were there. I'm assuming you all sat together and "glamped" out. And Matt; I gotta say. Awesome tux choice. Pure old-school bonafide! None of that silly, high-fashion frippery for you my friend. Let's take a look:
On second thought, let's not. We all know it's wrong. Real fur, that is. What I'm saying is that anyone who attends the MET gala is condoning the attitudes and policies of one Anna Wintour. I don't know what her current personal stance on fur is; but I believe the magazine she presides over still features numerous companies who use real animal fur. Just something to think about. Vogue seems to be trying to shift the concern to faux fur and the pollution it produces. Yes and that's not good. But we'll leave that there for now.
Can I kvetch about something real fast, before we wrap things up (and I promise, we are!)? Aren't you sick of all this bullshit about Hollywood being this like, vast conspiratorial cauldron. You know, like a hotbed of all that Pizza-Gate style craziness and Eyes Wide Shut-Anton Lavey-Black-Mass-Thrill-Kill-Sex-Cult business? Like the studios all have underground tunnels and secret rooms and shit where all this stuff supposedly goes on? Well, I don't know about you but I've never seen any of it. And I have been underground at studios. LIterally. I've been underground at Paramount Studios. And there are tunnels! And you know what's down there? Cats. Yeah, cats. Feral cats and a lot of cat shit. And old cardboard standees:
Remember my friend Paul, who I think looks like you--from certain angles--or maybe Brad Pitt kind of? Or more like if you and Brad Pitt had a baby. I haven't talked to him in a long time. He kind of disappeared. And he'd kill me if he knew I was posting pictures of him. He was an actor, too. Most actors enjoy and encourage pictures of themselves being displayed. He didn't. Hey, don't ask me. His body reminds me a lot of yours Matt. He had one of those God-given bodies that was nearly perfect; that he didn't have to make much of an effort to maintain. Like five minutes a week at the gym and he looked like this:
And now your picture is going to be all over these blogs because of the weird algorithm. But I don't think anyone will mind. I know I don't! So, since we're closing this out talking about friends; here's some insight into a couple of yours.