Together We Can Make a List of Boobs

by Aaron Abrams

Alyssa Milano, Janet Jackson, Pam Anderson, Melanie Griffith, Demi Moore, Carmen Electra, Shannon Elizabeth, Kim Cattrall, Toni Braxton, Scary Spice, Tiffani (Saved by the Bell), Chyna (yikes), Brooke Burke, The Other Baywatch Chick, Tiffany (The Singer), Shannen Doherty, Tori Spelling, Courtney Love (YIKES) and The Other-Other Baywatch Chick.

Nineteen.

That's pitiful, people.

There are only 19 celebrities that I would BET my LIFE have fake breasts (not including playmates and wrestling sluts). And these 19 celebrities aren't even B-listers. They're like C-minus-listers, none of them too big to turn down a role opposite Dean Cain. This is totally unacceptable. I'm missing like 100 more. 1,000 maybe! What's goin on? We're too busy ogling the sales-girl to notice her filling our shopping carts with booby-snake oil. We need to snap out of it. We need to get a game plan happenin'!

Before I go on, I would like to explain. No. First I'd like to ask, seriously, how awesome would a "booby-snake" be? Seriously. NOW I would like to explain. I focus on the boob job because surgical work on the face or hair is pretty easy to spot. Burt Reynolds, dude, you fool no one. Michelle Pfeiffer, dude, eyes are supposed to crinkle a little. Robin Williams, you stretchy hobgoblin, you look like a crazy, unfunny, stretchy hobgoblin. A facelift can't be hidden behind a dress. It's right there on your face. Looking at you, right in your face, face to face. It's like that movie "Nowhere to run."

The boob, however, is more mysterious. Shrouded yet flaunted, it is the essence of celebrity power and all its evil. Celebrity Boob-Evil Powers.

I should also acknowledge that Britney Spears was left off the list. I'd actually prefer to ignore it, but trying to ignore Britney Spears when discussing fake boobs would be like trying to ignore a big shit on the dance floor. For the rest of this thing, we'd be dancing around this piece of shit on the floor.

Frankly, I do believe she has fake breasts. I'm 99 percent sure. But I wouldn't risk my life on it. I ain't goin' out like that. So I'll leave her off, not because I'm in some crazy state of denial. Please know that, while I am a man, I'm not one of THOSE men. My ability to create a game plan is not hindered by hot boob. I'm on your side.

And make no mistake, comrades, there are sides, because this is war. Every famous person with fake parts I don't know about has defeated me. Defeated us, my fellow soliders. And I only got Nine-Friggin-Teen, so I'm begging you to help a cat out. Email me some names. Let's get this started. Together, we can fight the good fight. Together, we can make a list of boobs.

We won't blacklist the people on this list. We just need a PLAN. Aren't we, as regular joes with regular lives, owed a little info? Aren't we as CONSUMERS of celebrity owed a little truth in advertising? A consumer shouldn't be expected to buy without knowing the facts; Sales 101.

Back in the day, celebrities were something to BELIEVE IN. Dreaming of Farrah Fawcett or Raquel Welch was like religion, like prayer. Now we can't even be sure what we're looking at. How can we escape into a dream without a bit of truth to get us there. Sure it's whimsical, but isn't it really the job of a "celebrity" to help us escape our occasionally shitty lives to a world of glamour and glitz and runways and marquees? I mean, does anyone actually know what fuckin "glitz" is? No. Cause it doesn't exist. We invented it. It's Dr. Seuss fiction is what it is. It's all wonderfulious, scrumdelious glitz. And without out it, we'd be stuck with real life - or worse - fantasies full of toupees and silicone. Can you imagine a worse life then one without the purity of Hollywood? I aint goin' out like that.

As you can see, the boob-list is pretty fuckin imparative, people. Our daydreams depend on it.

So here's the gameplan: 1. We need to make a list of boobs. 2. We need to read and study the booblist of boobs. 3. We need to go back to a time when celebs were pure, they were gods and they lifted us above it all, making sure we ignore the fact that Welch and Fawcett have both had surgical work done, and also ignoring the fact that they are both clearly drugged-up skanks who get kicked off sets and show up on talk shows half in the bag. Also, we need to ignore the fact that the war against fame is purely fictional, as is fame itself, as is boobs, and understand that if we didn't want to buy, we wouldn't have stepped onto the lot; Sales 101.

After we've done ALL that, we need to look at the Rolling Stone pictorial - look at it all day long if we have to - and not look away until we believe Britney's breasts are real. All real. 100 percent real. And not care what they say. Our daydreams depend on it, soldiers.

I find that if you sqint until everything's all blurry-like, then they kinda look alright.