On Wednesday March 24 Ben Mulroney will be at the U of T Career Centre giving a talk about his career. For anyone who doesn't know of Ben Mulroney (which is 100% possible since this is Canada and he is Canadian and there usually is no such thing as "knowing of" a Canadian celebrity unless he or she has already become or is on the cusp of becoming an American), he's the host of CTV's eTalk Daily and Canadian Idol, which makes him the Canadian equivalent of Ryan Seacrest, who in turn is the human equivalent of an über wretched plastic Ken doll. But more important than that, Ben Mulroney's father was once the Prime Minister of Canada.

Part of me wants to hear what Ben has to say, especially about how he managed to parlay a BA in history into a job as The Entertainment Talking Head on CTV. But see, another part of me is like, do I really need to make the hour long trek downtown just to listen to him speak for another hour and a half? If he's honest then I already know what he's going to say, and it'll take less than five minutes: I should start encouraging my mom or dad to preside over one of the most developed nations in the free world. Because nepotism? Cannot be denied.

Courtesy of the Associate Press/Yahoo:

BRISTOL, R.I. - On the sleepy coastal campus of Roger Williams University, a small liberal arts school unaccustomed to student activism, the College Republicans are reveling in the debate they've kicked up by offering a scholarship for whites only.

The $250 award — which required an essay on "why you are proud of your white heritage" and a recent picture to "confirm whiteness" — has invited the wrath of everyone from minority groups and school officials to the chairman of the Republican National Committee himself.

..."We'll continue to fight affirmative action ... but I think I made the point," [Jason Mattera, man in photo] said.

While I'm all for challenging the status quo, I have a sneaking suspicion that all the guy in the photo cares about is standing in the spotlight while doing it. I bet that every night before he went to bed he stared at the darkened ceiling trying to come up with ways of achieving his 15 minute of fame. Then one day, bam! The Hispanic College Fund called and after accepting his $5000 scholarship he thought to himself, 'Why don’t I just bite the hand that feeds me? That's ironic, right?' Obviously I have no proof of any this. Obviously I have nothing constructive to say. Obviously, I don’t care on either count.

Anyway, good job Jason Mattera. You got what you wanted. Now I know who you are and I inexplicably hate you.

You know how Oprah or Dateline sometimes runs a story and months later goes back to check on what's happened since? Well, I figured since I've been gone so long I would start by commenting on some of the things I previously wrote. So, without further ado:

~*~
Dear Johnny Depp,

Man do I owe you an apology. I honestly thought that whole pirate-movie-based-on-an-amusement-park-ride thing was going to be a bust. Boy did you ever prove me wrong. I mean, dude. You were nominated for a freaking Oscar! For a role that required campy dialogue and liquid eyeliner! If that's not cosmic humor I don't know what is.

Since I've already started I might as well apologize for a few other things like: inexplicably confusing you with Tommy Page back in the late eighties/early nineties, even after he stopped by the Tanner residence to wish D.J. a happy birthday and I knew the real Johnny Depp would have never done that; for championing the arrival of your doppelganger in Hollywood; for never sitting through an entire screening of many of your films; and for waffling so long over whether to include you on my last Sex Fantasy Camp list, where you almost served as a Saturday night sub for Brad Pitt before it occurred to me that if Brad Pitt didn't show I would be too devastated for anyone else. Johnny, I'm so sorry. (But if you and Tim Burton fuck up Charlie and the Chocolate Factory do know that you're dead to me).

~*~
Dear Billy Corgan,

Let me tell you a story. Once after school in seventh grade my friends and I went to the local convenience store to stock up on cherry flavored Jolly Ranchers and Hot Lips. Afterwards we went to someone's house to indulge in candy and ice cream and proceeded to taunt her brother's pet snake and watch her feed it dead baby pigs. Well, some of us watched. I stayed on the couch in the living room watching Young and the Restless on mute while Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness blared in the background.

I miss the Smashing Pumpkins sometimes. As for Zwan -- I'm still not sure what possessed you to give your follow-up band such a stupid name, but not even you can blame the hip gyrations of Britney Spears for its demise.

~*~
Dear Rainbow Brite,

I thought I saw your trademark bed-head walking up the street yesterday but I was mistaken. The school year is almost over and I haven't seen you once. Where are you? If it matters I don't hate you anymore. I've moved on to Pinky, a girl I have the misfortune of taking three classes with and who prefaces every ridiculous if-you-would-just-read-the-damn-textbook-before-class question with an annoying, half-drawled/half lisp-ilicous, "Sir I was just wondering...". So even though you one time insanely raged on all poetry dark and Robert Browning to our awesome, awesome English professor, we can be friends. I promise.

~*~
Dear Moderately Obese Woman,

You I did see on Tuesday, for the first time in almost a year. I noticed you had a man friend with you this time. Wink, wink. I also see you still give that steely dead-eye look to the people sitting at the front of the bus to procure those most coveted seats. It's nice to know some things haven't changed.

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