I wish that I could figure out, either with the advanced powers of
modern medicine or a $410 invoice from the psychic friends, the exact
location within my cerebral cortex all the image, sound, and memory
data of Andie MacDowell were stored. You see, that way it would not
be too far out of the realm of possibility for me to take a bent-open
paperclip, a dentists mirror, the soundtrack to The Music Man,
and an open fire; using them as cruel tools of self surgery to scratch
out those places and forever rid myself of the pain I feel whenever
I think about her. She is useless. If she were a radio, she would have
no knobs. If she were a car she would be 85 Aerostar van up on
blocks outside a brothel in the seedy strip club part of town with the
words Punta Negra Riot spray-painted on the hood. If she
were my floatation device in case of a water landing I would drown.
If she were the genetic composition of a human organism she would be
an extra chromosome. If she was a sitcom she would be most like the
tacked-on gay character that tries to make America think Big Network
TV is sympathetic to gay rights. If she were a restaurant she would
be shut down by the Board of Heath Services for contamination and emitting
strange smells. If she were an action figure kids would begin to read
books and develop ideas consistent with minds capable of running the
worlds most powerful nation. If she were Ground Hog Day Punxsutawney
Phil would blow up! If she were a virus we would the healthiest place
on earth. If she were a song she would be sung by the Back Street Boys
or their closest Boy Band Equivalent. She is a spare tire for an ocean
liner. She is a ice sculpture in Death Valley on July 12th. She is last
minute field goal with 37 seconds on the clock when you are behind by
268 points! To a salmon she represents downstream. She is a box of condoms
at a Girl-Girl motorcycle club on the out-skirts of Las Vegas. If she
were the sun vampires would feed on your children. If she were an ice
cream flavor she would be called Pralienes with NO Talent.
If she were a joke she would be about the rape of infants or about cancer
of the liver.
And If she were an actress she would help expand the minds of audiences
worldwide by bringing forth realistic portrayals of interesting characters
that grow emotionally and spiritually over the course of a role.
People wonder why I have Andie-Angst. I suppose it has to do with
her being rewarded for level-best mediocrity. She and many like her
represent how people who have so very little to contribute can clean
up while mindful followers of righteous lives get the shaft. She must
have pictures of Satan attending Easter Mass because SHE KEEPS GETTING
WORK!!! I cant figured it out but it drives me up two walls and
out a second story window.
She is un bearable. I cannot look at her or any of her vapid, one
dimensional roles without having the nauseous urge to throw up Spaghetti-Os
I ate when I was 5. I fear having children because I have no idea what
exposure to her lifeless brand of acting has done to my testicles other
than make them crawl 4 ¾ into my abdomen. She cannot deliver
a line, she has no timing for the moment, and, has never got in touch
with any character mindset other than the shallow wishing-well, monotonous
stock character she trots in front of the camera with every passing
role. She substantiates the falsehood that all you need is a six-packs
worth of brain cells and a sloping Romanesque nose, and you can go anywhere.
I hate the fact that she pays dividends to stupid humans.