"How Hot is Halle Now?"

with

Joe Lust

All right boys, tell me, after seeing Ms. Halle Berry practically gush into some kind of freak show bordering on a nervous breakdown at the Academy Awards, how many of you are still as eager as you were B.O. (Before Oscar) to part her seas? How many of your fantasies ala Halle still exist? Because we all know she ranked right up there in the top five. Others in the group (talking actresses) might include: Julia Roberts, Penelope Cruz, Ashley Judd, any of the Golden Girls for you sick fucks, and any young babe that has appeared on the cover of Maxim Magazine.

But one damn Oscar and the hottie has dropped berry berry far down on the list. Admit it, it's a brutal thought, but true: Why the hell did she have to go and open her mouth??? Tits, ass, cute face, SAY NO MORE! ASSUME THE POSITION. And please don't fucking cry!

Okay, now I can sense it, a few of you dudes are saying to yourselves: "I kinda felt for her. I wish I could have wrapped her up in my arms and let her have a good long cry." Then banged the shit out of her. Hey, Master Bates, if this is you, you have a goddamn problem, my friend. Time to seek therapy quickly, because you actually believe you can save a damsel in distress for more than five minutes, and are most likely snapping one off right now dreaming of you and Halle and all the multiple O's and good vibrations you can give her. In AOL-speak: ROFLMAO.

I got news for you Boner Man, with 9 out of 10 actresses, just ain't EVER going to happen.

Okay, this is where we're going into Hollywood Psychology 101, and trust me, living in Hollywood, I have a friggin' degree in it. Yeah, Joe Lust has made a few movies. Wink, wink. (Any aspiring "actresses" send along your pics and I'll see if I can't work you into something...like my sack, while videotaping of course. And don't forget to check out my fine fandangled website: www.yourvaginaonacastingcouch.com).

But the equation goes something like this: Girl never loved by her father runs away (or just takes the fucking Greyhound) to Hollywood to be a famous starlet. But she has no clue why she wants to be famous, she's just drawn to it like flies to shit (and yeah, sorry to say, Halle's does smell, too). But I'll tell you what's going on deep down inside her psychotic bod: She yearns to be loved (note: not fucked), not just by one man (dear old fucking dickwad dad), but the entire fucking world! And you know how many actresses this ever happens to? You know how many actually do one-up their dear old fucking abusive dickhead dad? Um, like buy a lotto ticket and you've got the odds, Pete Rose.

Enlightened? Want to buy the book? Fucked Up Hollywood Freaks. Because after one night of a lot of phony ass-kissing, it's back to business as usual in Hollywood today: Insecure backstabbing a-holes doing anything they can to get to the top of the mountain.

Halle's there today, on the top, weeping her cute ass off (and it ain't because she's the first black actress to get there, that's a load of shit, it's all about her), but the really sick disgusting fucking dysfunctional thing about it is: 48 hours from now she'll be right back to sitting on her therapist's couch freaking and popping Paxil for her recurring case of the daddy-doesn't-love-me blues.

And yeah, she killed my buzz too, dude. Without even having a seat on my casting couch first.

 
   
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