Wednesday

It appears that Paulo Coelho's The Alchemist is going to me made into a film. Laurence Fishburne is going to be playing the shepherd boy. I read this book and I envisioned the shepherd boy to be no more than 18-years-old (tops). All right, fine, I can get over the age discrepancy but the fact that Madonna is going to be in the movie ruins EVERYTHING. Oh MAN! [rolling eyes, throwing up hands] You know in interviews she's going to say stupid, self-centered things like, "Well, the philosophy of the book spoke to me, now that I've found the Kabbalah and have become spiritual and I do yoga and pilates and you know I'm satisfied..." Blah blah blah. Madonna has the anti-midas touch when it comes to movies. I saw Die Another Day recently and she suddenly popped up on screen as the fencing instructor. I jumped in my seat, like "Waaait a minute! Nobody told me SHE was in this movie. Ugh... as if this movie wasn't bad enough already."

Dear Madonna: Hey, you have like a bah-jillion dollars and you're scarey-fit. You don't need to make any more movies, music or books. Just go out and... spend money and do your little yoga moves. Okay? No more movies! No! NO! No more movies!!

Aside: And I'm a little unnerved that Coelho's new book, Eleven Minutes, "certainly does not hold back on the steamy and sado-masochistic sex." Compared to all the spiritual writing he's done, this kind of freaks me out.

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