Friday, July 28, 2006

Like a Little Waxy Angel

Dear Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt of the future (the real one, not the candle-like thing at Mme. Tussaud's),

It’s your 16th birthday! Happy sweet 16, kid.

Hold on a second, I have to go outside really quickly and water my flowerbeds. I’m 16 years older now too. I’m going to be 50 soon, and lately I’ve been getting these irrational urges to water the hell out of my yard.

I suppose that I should explain why I’ve decided to write this letter to you.

I was at the gym one morning, 16 years ago, and I saw a story on CNN about your paraffin doppelganger over at the Wax Museum. Now, it’s been a while since the story of a wax “you” first came out, a couple of days actually, but some genius over at the news network decided that they could stretch the story out a bit (god knows there was noting else going on at the time). They went on and on about how you were the first baby ever to be immortalized in wax at Tussaud's famous museum. I’m not sure exactly what kind of honor that is, but it’s the ultimate comeback whenever someone gives you the old “I don’t know who you think you are, young lady” routine. “I was the first goddamned wax baby!” You can shout at them. Why not throw a laté in their smug faces to add some extra effect.

Now I’m not saying that you would do such a thing. I’m just saying that if I were the first wax baby, I certainly would. Especially if someone called me “young lady.”

I just got to thinking that you might be tired of hearing about your evil wax twin. I mean, it’s 16 years later and CNN is still running segments on it every other day (I’m starting to think that Ted Turner has a bit of a fetish thing going on. Oh, no, not for babies, just for wax.).

So I figured that I would explain to you why your wax baby figure initially garnered so much attention. It’s like this:

For one, your parents used to be really famous. I mean like, really famous. Especially after your dad dumped his first wife to travel the world with your mother (incidentally, his first wife is Jennifer Aniston. That’s right, Senator Jennifer Aniston! The same Senator Aniston who was later deemed to be incompetent after it was discovered that she was elected as a joke.) Your parents used to make big movies and save the children of the world. I know it’s strange to hear about your parents making movies since your mom now lives in a Quonset hut somewhere in the African jungle working tirelessly to eradicate that deadly new strain of whooping cough and your dad…well, cut the guy some slack, he was actually a pretty talented actor, I realize that porn isn’t acting per-se, but he used to make real movies, he just was never the same after your mom left him. Very sad.

Anyway, why was your wax self so popular? Because you were popular. The most popular baby on the planet (tell that to those cheerleaders who keep flipping you crap about your dad!). And why were you so popular? Well, this is where things get tricky.

When you were born, the Iraq war was only a few years old (Thanks god that, after much begging, Al Gore finally decided to run for president again). The war was going terribly. It was worse then than it was when it began. And America needed a distraction. After all, who wants to pay attention to a depressing old war, right? People figured that if they just stared at the celebrity baby long enough the war would take care of itself.

It didn’t.

In fact, things got a lot worse. Israel took the initiative to act on terrorist attacks by Hezbollah. They bombed the crap out of Lebanon. It was scary. It made the Iraq war look as if it was never going to end. Especially since Georgie Bush refused to help the situation. And Condoleezza Rice…? What the hell does she do for the government anyway? I mean, I could go around the world and piss people off, does that require a lot of talent?

That was around about the time that your polyethylene self was being squeezed out Madame Tussaud's waxy womb. And BAM! We had a reason to live again. And the media could remain upbeat! Thank god for that! Real issues can be such a downer.

So I wanted to write this letter to you to tell you that if you ever get tired of hearing about that inconsequential wax figure of yourself on CNN, blame former president Bush.

Go ahead, blame him.

I like to blame him for hundreds of things. And I’ve never been wrong yet.

Hang in there Shiloh. And happy 16th again! Call you dad every once in a while. He could probably use a friend right about now.


Fun Fact: Seriously, I got an obscene amount of joy when I typed the phrase “former President Bush” earlier. I felt the clouds part. I felt the hand of somebody’s god.

I envisioned George Bush being booed off the lecture circuit for being a complete moron because nobody felt obligated to listen to him anymore.

Ahhhhhh…that’s the stuff.

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