This morning, despite talk that he was unbefitting of the honor, Ryan Seacrest was given a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame. The ceremony was desperately underwhelming. I stood in a crowd of bored tourists for an hour, and I have but one interesting observation to share. Simon Cowell, who was there to support the highlighted one, has simply ENORMOUS manbreasts. Just huge! And his nipples? Like bullets!
Most likely, the ceremony was dull on purpose. I suspect that the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce, the body responsible for doling out the stars, is deliberately selecting undeserving nonentities in an effort to rid the streets of annoying shambling snap-happy tourists. And I’m onto them! We’ve all experienced it – the tourists milling along the Walk of Fame, getting in your way when you are trying to get from A to B. It’s most annoying. Tourists don’t like to tread on the stars, skirting awkwardly around the edge. They stop suddenly in front of you with no warning, staring down in awe as if the remains of the celebrated idol were buried directly beneath the star. Negotiating Hollywood Boulevard is a constant struggle as you skirt around people lying on the floor attempting that awkward get-my-face-next-to-Big Bird’s-star photo composition. I once nearly trod on a baby that someone had placed next to Marilyn Monroe’s star for a photo (outside the Hollywood McDonald’s), and if you know Hollywood, you know that it’s not a patch of ground where you want to be placing your baby.
And so I applaud Ryan Seacrest for being the unwitting first stage of the Hollywood Chamber’s dastardly plan to line our streets with increasingly dim stars. Next month, don’t be surprised when you hear that the star is going to Carrot Top. Next, Kevin Federline. And in June, the honors belong to that guy from the Listerine commercial who can rinse for 30 seconds before spitting.
Before long, Hollywood will be a pedestrian-friendly haven, as disinterested tourists and residents alike stride purposefully over the stars with nary a downward glance.
– Steven Corfe