Saturday, September 11, 2004

I don't normally publish letters or e-mail that I receive here at Felt Up HQ, but I got one today that touched me deeply with the passionate, heartfelt plea of its tortured author. This was a person, a HUMAN BEING, in pain. How could I turn a callous eye? So I decided to listen to a higher calling, and provide a sympathetic, non-judgmental forum for this anguished soul...

Dear Felt Up:

I am really starting to hate Gwyneth Paltrow.

Yesterday I read that she is going to sue photographers for taking
pictures of "Apple" (and don't even get me started on how she STOLE
that name and it is not original), then today I read in the Dallas
Morning News all about how Gwynnie is telling everyone how her
Coldplay husband sings lullabies to get the baby to go to sleep!
Then she goes on about how great it is to find the right guy and have
his baby. If she doesn't want people taking pictures of her baby,
maybe she should quit talking about her to the press! Aaargh!!!!!

I could go on about the cupping, but I won't.


Dear GIAN:

I feel your pain, GIAN, I really do. First of all, just know that you are not alone. There are others out there, millions even, who have had to deal with similar feelings of outrage and annoyance. Perhaps if I tell you about my own long, difficult experience with Paltrowism, you might be able to take that first, and most important, step to recovery.

It is hard to express my constant, never-ceasing feelings of resentment and loathing towards Gwyneth "Flapjacks" Paltrow, but I'm going to try. Everything about her is like nails on a chalkboard to me: Her flat, nasal, prep school voice; her flat, droopy flapjack boobs; her flat hair; her flat personality; her flat acting style; her ballet flats. (I like them on everyone else but her.) I despise her mother, Blythe Danner. Her late father I only liked because he created my favorite tv show of all time, "The White Shadow." But then he pretty much cancelled that out with "St. Elsewhere." I hate her name. I hate that she totally got famous for being Brad Pitt's girlfriend. I hate that she dated my future husband, Luke Wilson. I hate that she got to be in a Wes Anderson movie WITH Luke Wilson. I hate that she won an Academy Award for like, her second movie ever, simply because she was the "hot" new thing in Hollywood. I hated her Oscar dresses (all of them). I hate that she got to act with John Hannah, one of my favorite Scottish actors, in "Sliding Doors." I hate that her short hair looked cute in "Sliding Doors." I hate her macrobiotic diet. I HATE HATE HATE the cupping thing. I hate that she played Sylvia Plath. I hate her husband's band. (Actually they are so bland they have barely registered on my consciousness, but Terri R. always calls them "the poor man's Radiohead" and she knows of what she speaks. Or was it the "poor man's Grandaddy?" I honestly cannot remember. But I digress.) I hate that when she got pregnant I had to endure endless, nauseating articles in my beloved Star and Us Weekly about underwater birthing techniques and Swedish baby carriers and shower gifts and Madonna's advice on English hospitals and Gwyneth's 7,000 hours of labor. I hate that she named the baby Apple--and as you so rightly point out, GIAN--I hate even more that the name did not come from a rare burst of originality but was copied from another member of the Paltrow/Coldplay axis of evil: COLDPLAY'S MANAGER'S BABY IS NAMED APPLE! (Or somebody like that. Whatever.) SHE STOLE THE TERRIBLE NAME APPLE! And, perhaps most of all, I hate that she constantly complains about the press being overly intrusive in her non-working life.

(Listen, GIAN, I'm switching gears here and speaking directly to Ms. Paltrow now, OK?) Gwynnie, you and Billy Crudup (see last post) should go to the same class, it's called Fame 101. Lesson #1: When trying to avoid undue public fascination with your personal life, DON'T DATE OR MARRY ANOTHER CELEBRITY! Hello? You are doubling the amount of media hysteria, right off the bat! Lesson #2: After you bear the other celebrity's child, try NOT naming it something as idiosynchratic--or idiotic--as APPLE! Oh, can't help yourself? Well, congratulations. You just tripled the interest in your family unit. Lesson #3: How about NOT living in the middle of London, a very large metropolis with five hundred gazillion voracious, vicious, and highly amusing daily tabloids waiting like a pack of wolves at your front door! Take your precious bundle of joy and your milquetoast hubbie and go out to the sticks! OF COURSE the paparazzi are going to be camped outside your house now--they live there, too! You might as well have given birth in the Daily Mirror's office!

Oh, and one last bit of advice: SHUT UP.

PS: I think Apple wants her flapjacks. (Shudder.)

Note to self: The baby's name is now officially Apple Jacks. HA ha ha! I just cracked myself up! I really did.

OK, back to my soul-searching letter-writer. I hope, GIAN, that airing out some of your frustrations has helped bring a sense of closure to your agonizing hatred of Gwyneth Paltrow. I admire your candor and honesty. It certainly has been cathartic for moi. Maybe I will actively seek out correspondence from now on because it allows me to have a more personal, one-on-one relationship with my publique. But for god's sake, only send me fan mail! Jailhouse penpals welcome!

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