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Five Pretty Boys I’d Like to Burn

I’d like to dedicate this article to the five men alive and well in Hollywood who I’d love to put in a rowboat and just push them out into the ocean, without so much as a goodbye or even an F***you. 

Honestly, the contempt I have for them goes so deep and so extreme, I struggle to write this article as so much of it occurs on the most basic, wordless, primal level. I’m like a cavewoman pummeling her own face in with a club. And here’s what I’ve come up with.

 

James Franco. Or, as I like to call him, the biggest douche in the room. I’m still reeling from him hanging Anne Hathaway out to dry on Oscar night. I know way too many people at Yale who’ve seen him sleep in class or stumble around campus with a general stupor of someone stoned or just a moron. The fact that the NY Times reported he came to  Yale the day after the Oscars in a hooded sweatshirt AND his tuxedo pants is truly the douchiest move of all. It’s like he’s saying, “Hey all, in case you forgot, I hosted the Oscars last night, you might think it was an abysmal performance, but I’m generally pleased. I had time to change out of my jacket, tie and shirt, but not my pants! The logic doesn’t make sense to me either!” 

 

Justin Timberlake. Or, as I like to call him, the guy who would’ve made a great sorority president. You know, I’m almost tempted not to even bring up his music as frankly, I don’t know where to begin. Ok, he sounds like woman, uses pedantic rhythms and has brought nothing new to pop music, but I guess that’s the definition of pop music. My problem is that he looks like an ostrich and that he dares to enter the acting world. The acting world does not have any room for him. It has enough pretty boys that can’t act for the love of a glass of water; it does not need another. Who can forget The Social Network when he acted using sorry gestures, massive indicating and “playing” at emotions. And now, as a woman, I’m supposed to WANT to see him act opposite Mila Kunis in some clearly moronic rom-com? Why, so I can cheer when they get together at the end, as they teeth-achingly will, as per the definition of rom-com? I will not cheer. I will not watch.

 

Johnny Depp. I know, this one is going to make me a tad unpopular, but I’m willing to deal with it. I don’t like the Deppster because he strikes me as too much of a poser. All the photographs I see of him are him with scraggly hair all around his face and head like some dirty Parisian painter. He’s also covered in jewelry which I find slightly effeminate, and I want to know why this actor guy has to wear more jewelry than me. Is it because he’s famous? Is it because he’s “different”? is it because he likes the jingle jangle sound of it? Whatever it is, I want answers.  Even the most “candid” paparazzi shots make him look like he’s posing as the misunderstood artiste for a 16 hour long portrait session, tra la, tra la. He seems like someone who tries so hard for the media to not seem him as the pretty-boy- heartthrob and then deliberately dresses to just look more like an alternative version of the pretty boy heartthrob, for chicks who listen to the NY Dolls, and so on.

 

Scott Baio. I know, I don’t even need to write his name down. He belongs on all lists like these. And to be honest, I toyed with adding him, because it didn’t even seem worth it. But here it is, Scott Baio epitomizes the failed celebrity who should go off and be a chef or a dog walker, leaving Hollywood forever so that he can maintain a shroud of dignity and stop looking like such a hanger-on. There’s his a-hole remark about Michelle Obama and his tweet about having to pay taxes and support the lazy and unemployed. Honestly, he walks around looking like such a tool. Looking half-mafia, half-moron, like you’ve just interrupted a game of foosball and he was winning for the first time in his life.