Sidenote:

Reading Bret Easton Ellis's latest book "Glamorama" for the second time the other week, has given me this really odd relationship to celeb pics. Almost bizarre.

Looking at that pic of Brad Pitt and his much-hated wifey thing sitting at the armani shows in milan at supermodels are lonelier, I keep thinking:

"Yes, using these people as terrorists would be the best. No one would suspect it."

My second, more elaborate thought on the same note is:

"Maybe these aren't Brad and his annoying wifey thing, maybe this photo is fake, maybe they are actually all high on drugs somewhere hidden away, depositing Prada bags with explosives in the paris metro, unable to get out of the model/actor/VIP terrorist system because they are "everwhere" anyway and no one misses them, because they are on the front of the tabloids."

What a damn good book that is, really.