Hugh Grant. He dresses like a common workman sometimes, to remind him of the life he could have led. Only the embroidered monogram reminds him that he is a successful and rich actor — and what a bitter reminder indeed. He’s choking, but no one there will save him.
Hugh Hefner. It’s been harder and harder to find attractive women to keep draped all over his mansion. He’s imagining that burger is a beautiful blonde. Hefner cries a lot now.
Ben Affleck. In Hollywood, it is an open secret that he is in reality a sentient python who has taken human form. Now that photographic evidence exists to prove this fact, he has no choice but to come out. Godspeed, python Ben Affleck. We wish you well.
Jennifer Lopez. She is so defeated that she doesn’t even realize she’s not deep-throating a mid-level tractor company executive behind the strip club. That vacant look in her eyes says more than her voice ever could. She has forgotten what it was like to sing. What happened to that little girl?
Jessica Alba. She’s not eating this sandwich so much as she’s contemplating its existence. How can it be that it is thicker than her midsection? This is worrying information, but she can’t do anything about it— she has to lose ten pounds if she’s to land this part. That necklace didn’t pay for itself.
Joe Swash, dying inside. Why is he smiling? He is sadly contemplating the price of fame. Is this what he thought minor celebrity would be like? Perhaps there’s still time to take that nursing course. His parents would be pleased.
Shirley Manson. Does she realize that this sandwich is her only friend? She’s out walking in the middle of the day, alone, down by the waterfront that used to buzz with the sounds of industry. Now she can hear herself chew. Isn’t that sad? She can’t sleep at night anymore.
President Obama. Why is that leprechaun leering at him? Has Obama stolen his pot of gold? Maybe that’s how he’s planning to pay for health care reform.