Thursday, March 5, 2009

the boy bonita

jesus ve madonna iki bin yil sonra yeniden beraber.

kadin, erkekten 28 yas buyuk.

ve bu seferki iliski bicimi mother n son degil, celeb n "boy toy" .

madonna bunu hep yapti. yaninda kendisinden daha az sohretli bir oyuncagi hic eksik etmedi. asagidaki makalenin yazari stephan king. madonna'nin boy toy'u olmanin nasil birsey oldugunu anlamak icin birebir, belki de su ana kadar okuduklarim icerisinde en begendigim king metni de budur. yazinin devaminda king, birkac sene oncenin sohretli cifti "Bennifer" dan bahsediyor ancak o kismi kesiyorum.

neyse, sene 88. o zamanki oyuncak sean penn...

In 1988 -- I think it was '88 -- my older son asked if I'd take him to the Tyson-Spinks fight. You may remember it; this is the one that lasted roughly five punches and 38 seconds. When we got to the Trump venue where the fight was being held, a functionary whose job it was to collar ''celebs'' steered my son and me toward a room where, he said, we could relax, eat canapés, and meet others of our ilk. Other celebs, in other words.

I don't recall if the guy mentioned privacy as well as canapés, but if he did, the son of a gun lied. The room -- which my son remembers as being the size of a banquet hall -- was full of photographers and those soft-news people who are always more interested in who showed up than they are in what happened. Each time a new celeb made his or her entrance, the paparazzi would school like tuna toward a new feeding ground, yelling ''Oprah!'' or ''Jack!'' (The first thing celebs lose is their last names.) At some point -- around the time I was thinking I ought to get my son out of there, the atmosphere was that lynch-party feverish -- Sean Penn walked in, holding hands with Madonna.

The reporters and paparazzi went nuts. ''Sean!'' they shouted. ''Over here! Madonna! Hey, give us a smile, honey!'' The room seemed to shrink in that flashgun glare, a light that's both brilliant and somehow thin; it's the way you see things when you're suffering a high fever.

Madonna fed on it -- this, at least, is my son's memory. We are both in agreement, however, that Mr. Penn was caught flat-footed. Like me, maybe he had foolishly assumed that ''a place to relax and get away from the crowds'' meant a place of relative privacy.

They made one seemingly endless circuit of the room with the press in full pursuit, Mr. Penn tugging his sweetie by the hand. They passed close to my location, and I got a good look at the expression of horror on Penn's face. It was the face of a young man who's finally beginning to understand what he's gotten himself into.

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