Halloween is a whimsical time when you can pretend to be something that you aren't. Like a wizard, a ninja, a lacquered teak table, or a celebrity. And if you want to dress up like an ordinary human being whose brain has been intractably warped by the existentially horrific fact that millions of complete strangers have an opinion about you, then you're in luck! The masquerade merchants of the Internet have been putting all their elbow grease into their celebrity costumes this October. So let us behold their cornucopia of head-turning disguises.
Everybody has a favorite Brad Pitt movie, whether it's Piss Gormley: The Last Acorn Rapist or Big, Big Man Doing Stuff ... WHOA! or Wigs And Things or Grocery List: Raisins, Tampons, Bullets -- Piss Gormley 2: This Time It's So Goddamn Real I'm Screaming For Hours. And with this high-quality mask, you can play the Brad Pitt we know and love from all of those cinematic classics.
Some say that Barack Obama looks like a lycanthropic Tony Shalhoub. Others speculate that the Commander in Chief's cavernous crow's feet hide mutineer treasure that's been buried in his visage since the mid-1500s. But one thing's for certain: Obama has never been seen in public, ever, as no president has revealed his executive visage to the public since the adoption of The Shadowmaster Act of 1834.
James Dean was known throughout his life as a "Rebel Without a Cause." Historians aren't sure why he was called such, but scholars suspect "the cause" was "a strong dislike of peeling off historians' faces." (PS: The historians aren't sure. Because they're all faceless and dead.)
Marilyn Monroe is most famous for her groundbreaking role as Glenn Close's body double in 102 Dalmatians. For best results, live in a cave for several weeks prior to wearing this mask to truly capture Norma Jeane's famed translucent cave fish epidermis. Up next, here's Elvis himself! Looking like somebody, Elvis!
"Help me ... Help me very much ..."
Finally we have another Elvis, from that thrilling period in his career when he replaced his incisors with a cob of corn. Audiences everywhere wondered, "Will he accidentally eat his teeth? What if the stage gets too hot and his mouth explodes into a geyser of decadent and buttery Pop Secret? When will bloody stalks burst from his cheeks?" The King always kept them guessing!
Simply Party Supplies
"You ain't nothing but a maize-jaw ..."
This mask dutifully recreates the cherished grimace Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson made in the film The Scorpion King. That movie currently holds a 41 percent rating on Rotten Tomatoes, because most critics were unable to convey the film's beauty into written prose and simply failed to hand in their reviews. It was the biggest case of Stendhal Syndrome ever recorded!
What if the Mona Lisa jumped out of her frame? What if she had book of terrible poetry about chastened gargoyles and dark waterfalls? What if her grimoire was just a free folder she got at the midnight premiere of Cirque du Freak: The Vampire's Assistant? What if she went to a Hoobastank concert? What if she had extraordinary B.O.?
One can't simply purchase this mask. No, this mask is only for all those real-ass film geeks out there, who know that early black-and-white movie cameras sucked the pigment out of actors' faces. That's why Orson Welles called them "soul vacuums."
Who can forget the Reagan White House? Everyone got lost but eventually found their way, Jennifer Connelly was there, and David Bowie spun a bunch of orbs and sang a song about his giant penis or something. It was a great time to be an American.
Some of our younger readers might not be familiar with English comedian Rowan Atkinson's famous bumbler, Mr. Bean. But here's some backstory: Mr. Bean lives deep in the New Mexico desert, is called "The Final One" in the Hopi language, haunts the playas in a levitating cocoon made of a viscous mucus, and cannot be killed by conventional means (only a wish unspoken on a starless night). That's British humor for you!
It's 9:34 p.m. on a Saturday night. You're lying alone on your bed, staring at a mirror. Deep in the specular otherspace, you see your destiny. You are a race car driver. You are a fighter pilot. You are a U.S. Navy lawyer. You are an Army dropout, slinging gin like a demon. You are a sports agent with a heart of shit-smeared gold. You are an honorable gringo in the Meiji Restoration. You are a divorcee in an H.G. Wells fever dream. You are the spokes-fantasy of mothers and fathers everywhere. The world cannot dream without your permission. You are idea made flesh. You are flesh made celluloid. Your erection spans back to 1981.
Your mirror is this mask. This mask is your destiny. Put it on, and beat the shit out of some muggers.
Should you ever visit an alternate dimension in which everybody is a ghoulish boardwalk illustration from Wildwood, New Jersey, bring this mask. Everybody will know you once dated the star of Piss Gormley 17: Humanity Is A Plague, Why Don't We Just Let The Fungus Reclaim The Earth. The Only Person I'd Miss Is My Dog, But He'd Be Just As Adorable As A Barking Cluster Of Spores. Have You Seen My Dog. Would You Like To See A Picture Of My Dog. Your Dog Is A Cocker Spaniel. Cocker Spaniels Are Garbage, They're Just Mops That Can Shit.
This. This is the face that has awed the world for decades. The pate, unbesmirched by foolish hair. The sneer, born of a staunch refusal to consume any other food source except concentrated lemon protein. The ashen madman's eyes, because he refused to sleep between the years of 1970 and 1975, lest a puny pretender try rob him of his Mr. Olympia title in his sleep.
This is the one and only Arnold Schwarzenegger; a man so unceasingly violent that the U.S. government gave him the entire state of California to slake his thirst for blood. He ruled unchallenged for years, rivers of human offal flowing steady from Eureka to Escondido. His reign finally ended when the Oakland Raiders teamed up with the San Diego Chargers to crush him underneath a 200-foot-tall redwood crucifix. Thank God he's dead.
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