People take one look at me over the news stand and say, "damn, I wanna read all about the midget rodeo and coeds going wild." What can I say? I'm just glad to be on the same cover as sexy babes and scary monsters. And sexy babe Sebastian Bach. Here's my guilty pleasure: last month my favorite song to blast while cruising on the Autobahn was "I remember you." It's a totally kick-ass love song. I sang my little heart out all month, my generous bosom swelling with wistfulness (see above).
Here's the face I glued to the Hustler cover. It would be so interesting if we could all choose what body types and colors and lengths and sizes we wanted to represent us on any particular day. We could create ourselves fresh every morning with various human components downloaded from the internet. We'd be digitalized paper dolls. There would also be wardrobes to hyperlink to. Instead of make-up, we'd open our purses and whip out Adobe Photoshop compacts. We'd digitally alter our appearance throughout the day.
We could also click on our lovers and apply a touch-up here and there to make them better suit our expectations and longings. We could similarly download moods, personality traits, areas of expertise, languages...but how to recognize one another?
Maybe our cell phones would alert us to the proximity of a friend or foe. A foe's approach would be painful, signaling danger. Remember Yosarian bitching about pain in Catch-22 (why can't our noses just light up if we're in danger)? So there you have it. The world would be teeming with cut-and-pasted Angelina Jolie look-alikes whose noses would light up when they saw one another approaching. "I'm the original." "No way! I'm Angelina!" Then of course their noses would start growing from all of the lying, and well, what a mess. Glowing and growing. The future is an absolute mess.
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