Saturday, November 26, 2005

Let's Play Us Weekly!

This makes me tremble with white hot desire.

I must have it.

Because, honestly, it is not enough to amass a weekly barrage of celebrity gossip on my coffee table (if I had a coffee table, but, that's a different story). I want to be able to play out the fabulous, gucci-soaked dramas of celebrity lives. I want to load up Linday's SUV party limo with MK and Ashley, send them off to some hott club opening, and perhaps see what happens if they happen to run into Hillary Duff or Paris*.

Ah, to crouch around a tiny red carpet, marching plastic starlets up and down, seeing them eye each other jealously, trade snide remarks, stumble a little from too much xanex or pre-premier champagne. Fabulous.

Would any woman not secretly long to have a mini closet full of miniature coture gowns, perhaps a few fashion mistakes to sneer at? If the powers that be at toy companies would listen to me, I would suggest that they partner with Us Weekly or Star Magazine in order to create an Amazing Celebrity Empire -- not just settling for soothing the masses with celebrity antics, they would be able to raise children completely dependent upon the celebrity machine for entertainment -- picture it:

- Create a line of children's toys branded with your gossip source of choice -- in this example, I will be using Us Weekly. The dolls will be created in the likeness of the stars of the day -- each week's cover story would bring on another drama to be enacted by little plastic Jessica Simpsons or Nicole Richies (In the case of Nicole, I would suggest some sort of inflatable version that could be plumped up or emaciated easily).

- The Us weekly web site and print version would feature the dolls for easy ordering on a weekly basis -- as new celebrities rise in fashion, so do the profits for the toymaker.

- Us Weekly would print a toy companion -- much like a sleazy version of the ever-popular American Girl Dolls. Little magazines would proclaim, "THIS WEEK, SOURCES SAY, LINSAY LOHAN HAD A PUBLIC CAT FIGHT WITH NEMISIS HILLARY DUFF!" They would include instructions for recreating the scene in playrooms across America. Children across the countr would seize up their Aaron Carter dolls to sneer on the sidelines as Hillary and Lindsay dolls grabbed at their plastic hair with little manicured plastic hands.

- As these children grow up, steeped in the sweet brew of Celebrity Culture, they will be primed for voracious consumption as adults.

My plan is totally brilliant and completely fun! Some desparately needed accessories include:

- Paparazzi, of course, complete with real digital cameras! Take shots of your scene and load them on to the Us Weekly web site! Share with your friends!
- Sources. As in this week's Star Magazine's screaming headline -- "JESSICA SIMPSON PREGNANT! - sources say." These would be shady, homely dolls that would ride on the sidelines and report back to the magazine all about the inside story -- is there really trouble in Brangelina land? Sources say yes.
- Feather Boas. Because, d'uh. Sequins, too.
- Little coke mirrors. Tiny 10 Carat diamonds. Little celebrity gift baskets full of Keihl's products and certificates for elaborate vacations.
- Blackberries, sidekicks, and little pink flip phones that really ring! (or vibrate).
- Hulking bodygaurds with real bat-swinging action arms!
- Tiny oversized Dior sunglasses! Itty bitty Hermes Birkin Bags!

I am hoping to develop this plan into a cross merchandising orgy. Perhaps this can morph into entire cable channels full of stop-action cartoons, miniture coture during fashion week, entire warehouses of tiny limosines just waiting to act out this week's excursion to Nobu.

Sigh. . . until next time, I'll be dreaming of tiny Sushi, tiny bottles of Crystal, and little, itty bitty toilets for regurgitation.

* Note that Google didn't turn up any mass marketed Paris Hilton collectible dolls.
There are plenty of sad, dirty-minded alternatives. I do admit to finding the barbie version of the Paris Hilton Sex video pretty effing hilarious. I love the details -- bed, infared, creepy reflections in the eyes. Is it sad to be Paris, so scandalous that no one will fashion a plastic doll out of you in order to cash in on vast amounts of whining kid money?

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