Everyone needs a hobby to distract themselves from the pressures of daily life and the crushing meaninglessness of existence. But some celebrities, as part of their continuing efforts to prove that they're so far removed from normal humanity that they're essentially another species, have taken up hobbies so dark that we're wondering if someone should start checking for bodies in their basements. And speaking of basements ...
The average basement looks like a cross between a hobo's shopping cart and a hoarder's desperate plea for an intervention. But if you have the money of an oil sheikh and the taste of a grandma who's really into collecting porcelain babies, you can do something different with your basement. Something ... special.
Something Shining-y.
You're looking at one of the many "shops" in Barbra Streisand's basement, where she keeps an empty mall's worth of furniture, shoes, clothes, dolls, and more in a nightmarish limbo where they'll never be used, sold, or appreciated.
So, like any other mall, really.
"I have a lot of stuff, and instead of storing it just in a basement, why not make a street of shops that would house these things?" Streisand said, as somewhere in America a child starved to death.
"Bee's Doll Shop: for when torturing your kids with Christmas coal just isn't enough."
Streisand Avenue Mall gets creepier the longer you gaze upon it, as your mind slowly begins to wrap itself around the bizarre artificiality of what it's witnessing. At best, it's a Scooby-Doo ghost town. At worst, a maniac driving a cursed floor polisher has mowed down panicked teenagers within these halls. An announcement plays over the public address system, advertising a sale that will never actually come to this mocking simulacrum of commerce. Then it announces a time of death.
"Attention shoppers, all hope will fade in 15 minutes.
Please make your final purchase and will and testament."
No child will ever enter that sweet shop. And, wait! What's that in the carriage?
Viking Press
Jesus Christ! Is that a doll, or did Streisand order a baby mummified for authenticity? And what seven-year curse does it unleash on those unlucky enough to cross its path?
Noted pumpkin-smashing enthusiast Billy "William" Corgan, like many musicians and bald people, has always been a little eccentric. But his recent endeavors have us worried that he needs a hug, possibly one that's delivered at an intervention.
For starters, Corgan recently deleted his Twitter account after sending a final message that read, "After mulling this for a while, I'm deleting this account. So many thanks to those that have followed. Find me at: PeopleAndTheirCars.com." And indeed, you can find Corgan at PeopleAndTheirCars.com, where he posts random vintage photos that primarily do not feature people and their cars.
People And Their Cars
Was the tree delivered in a car? Are those dinosaurs going to get into a car?
What's your angle, Corgan?
You can sign up for a newsletter and buy prints of the photos for modest prices, assuming you can navigate the confusing and pretentious layout. It all seems more appropriate for an enterprising, Americana-obsessed teenager's Tumblr than the endeavor of an iconic rock star.
People And Their Cars,
People And Their Cars
"Film roll is empty, just like me."
But Corgan's so much more than just a musician and a ... whatever that was. He's also an animal lover!
Paws Chicago
He sees a rat in a cage; they see an easy dinner.
Corgan is a big supporter of PAWS Chicago, a no-kill animal shelter, which is ... actually pretty adorable, even if that cover makes him look like the sort of person who would knit a sweater out of cat hair and then force it onto the woman he chained up in his basement after she turned him down for a date.
But while Corgan's charity work is admirable, he needs to learn to be chill about it. When Anderson Cooper made fun of that cover, Corgan tweeted, "Sorry to disappoint, but when I'm not raising cain for a great organization like @PAWSchicago, I'm still making REAL music. I realize you're too busy being a globalist shill to know the difference, but there are those of us who do as we like." Then he started selling these shirts:
Twitter / Sarah Petty
They're losing sight of the real enemy: whoever stuck them in those bow ties.
To be fair, Cooper was totally being a dick. But you have to anticipate a certain amount of mockery when you pose for that photo, and it's best to just shrug it off like the aloof animals you're advocating for. Unless this is all a ruse to get sepia-toned pictures of people in that shirt to create content for PeopleAndTheirCars.com.
Fashion design is one of the classic vanity projects successful actors embark on to keep themselves amused, right up there with poorly received music careers and lines of overpriced perfume. So while it's not surprising that Antonio Banderas decided to dabble in apparel by enrolling in fashion school, it is weird that he's placed his emphasis firmly on capes, the garment of choice for superheroes and our distant medieval ancestors.
Twitter / Antonio Banderas
"When Burger-Beard the Pirate returns, he is going to look fabulous."
Banderas says the cape offers "incredible possibilities" before expressing admiration for their comfort, the warmth they provide in the dead of winter, and, uh, the ease with which they allow you to disguise your identity when you kill someone. We aren't exaggerating. Here's an exact quote from the man himself: "There are all these varieties of capes. For example, in the time of Charles the Third in Spain, capes were an instrument to kill -- and to cover yourself. People used to do this" (makes Zorro move) "and nobody would know who you were."
Apparently, when you're famous, the line between reality and the characters you play is just a troublesome little thing that's best punched clean through.
William Scarborough
Tell him he isn't actually Puss in Boots at your own risk.
Look, we're not denying that capes are cool. Hell, a few capes would really class up the average DMV. But Banderas speaks of them with the kind of reverence one usually reserves for a beloved religious figure. And as he digs into their nuances, complete with dramatic gestures, you can just sense the reporter slowly backing away before Banderas skins him and creates a flesh cape. Although, as mid-life crises go, we're glad Banderas just enrolled in fashion school instead of doing cocaine off the handlebars of his new motorcycle while his cape flutters in the breeze.
Frederick M. Brown/Getty Images Entertainment/Getty Images
Lucy Lawless, refusing to be bound by her last name, watches criminal trials with an intensity that would make your Judge Judy-obsessed aunt worry. And when we say "watches," we don't mean she keeps up with crime news on TV -- we mean she shows up at court, in person, to witness the wheels of justice turn.
"I spend a lot of time in the courthouse of whatever city I am at," says Lawless, describing the buildings where the fates of men are decided the way other people might describe baseball stadiums or Margaritavilles. Lawless calls it a way to educate herself on what's happening in the communities her acting takes her to, none of which apparently have a local paper. She then goes on to talk about the various criminal trials she's seen with a fervor that suggests she's not far off from enacting her own bizarre crimes so she can follow the media coverage with knowing glee. "That was pretty intense," she said of a case where a woman was nearly decapitated by her husband but survived to testify against him in court. We're sure the woman concurred.
Huffington Post
"Her tears seemed so lifelike. I should have her call my agent."
Lawless even hangs out with judges, bailiffs, and other court officials, attending concerts and dinners and rodeos with the people who run the judicial system because, to Lucy Lawless, life is apparently just one long reality show being hosted for her amusement. "You are meeting people at one of the most intense days of their lives. You realize, oh my God, life really is like that Thomas Hobbes theory -- nasty, brutish, and short," says the rich, successful, and popular actress as she wallows in human misery for her own amusement.
John Selkirk via stuff.co.nz
She enjoys trials so much, she starred in one, where she lost $550. Pretty intense, indeed.
The New Zealand native actually calls Courtroom 6 at the High Court in Auckland her "happy place," because Lucy Lawless apparently can no longer feel emotion unless it's delivered in the form of tearful courtroom testimony. At one point in an interview, Lawless expresses disappointment that she missed the most trying day of testimony in an attempted murder trial, instead only getting to witness jury selection and less interesting testimony. It's not clear whether she was acting that day or if the court simply wouldn't let her enter with a giant tub of popcorn, 40-ounce Coke, and Lady Justice cosplay outfit.
Have you ever wondered what happens to people who lose presidential elections? It seems a little sad, all those powerful men fading away into the footnotes in history. But don't feel bad for Michael Dukakis, the former governor of Massachusetts, runner-up in Mr. Leader Of The Free World '88, and noted tank enthusiast, because he's developed an obsession with turkey soup that makes his decades as a politician seem like a side hobby.
In an interview with the Boston Globe, Dukakis talks about making turkey soup the way other men might talk about making love to a woman. He calls it a sin to waste a perfectly good Thanksgiving carcass, shares his recipe, then explains the obsessive process through which he procures dead turkeys. Every Thanksgiving, he rustles up seven or eight carcasses from friends and family, chops up their bones to maximize freezer space, then makes turkey soup for the rest of the goddamn year, presumably to be eaten between bologna sandwiches and the occasional treat of ribbon candy (but only when he's really earned it).
Craig Walker / Boston Globe
"I also enjoy a nice cup of tepid water!"
Dukakis once took a Thanksgiving carcass home on the train, to the incredible embarrassment of his wife, and when visiting his granddaughter he insisted on making a turkey for her before taking the bones home, because Dukakis has really earned that "World's Greatest Grandpa" coffee mug.
Dukakis even encouraged readers to drop off their unwanted carcasses at his house and received at least 20, which in other circumstances would be a sign that a supernatural beast is stalking the neighborhood. Undaunted by his carcass bounty, Dukakis casually mentioned plans to share his soup with his community before suggesting that, had he been elected president, he could have given his recipe to the country, and millions of wasted carcasses would have been put to good use, an idea equally philanthropic and reminiscent of a bizarre personality cult.
Suzanne Kreiter / Boston Globe
"Oh, them? They voted for the other guy."
But perhaps what's most impressive is that, despite giving his home address to the public, Dukakis didn't receive a single unsolicited pizza or dick pic. Maybe the worst Internet citizens would've felt bad about pranking a senior statesmen, but we'd like to believe would-be pranksters took one look at that photo and realized that if they fucked with Dukakis they'd end up in his freezer right alongside the birds. "This soup tastes a little different, grandpa," an innocent grandchild would say. "Oh, let's just say I put a little special someone in it this year," Dukakis would reply, chuckling, before finding 27 ways to not waste his used napkin.
Stringer/Getty Images News/Getty Images
Mike Tyson is famous for punching people in the face. Pigeons are famous for shitting on your car. Together, they race!
Animal Planet
One wants to eat children; the other wants to puke in their mouth.
No, seriously -- Animal Planet filmed a six-episode documentary about Tyson's involvement in the world of pigeon racing. And Tyson knows his goddamn pigeons -- he gives an interviewer a lecture on their role throughout history, noting that pigeon racing predates Christ, that pigeons were used extensively during the Crusades, and that the Rothschilds made their fortune from strategic pigeon use. Who are the Rothschilds, you ask? It doesn't matter! What matters is that Mike Tyson has tracked down every person in history who likes pigeons just as much as he does.
Tyson's fascination with the rats of the sky actually predates his boxing career -- his very first fight was with a boy who broke the neck of one of Tyson's birds, although it's not clear how or why pre-pubescent Mike had pet pigeons. Regardless, the fact that he lived in a community that mixed whimsical Disney-esque animal interactions with random acts of cruelty apparently provided the dramatic origin story for both his boxing career and his pigeon racing, where we really hope he goes by something like "Flyin' Mike" or "Two-Wing Tyson."
Mat Szwajkos / Discovery Communications
"The Baddest Flapper On The Planet."
Tyson says the superstar boxer who used to flaunt his wealth is long dead, and now he's just a guy who's comfortable getting pigeon shit on his hands as he competes with racers who have decades more experience than he does in an extremely competitive environment where the birds are described with the same words that once described the ranks of elite boxers Tyson reigned supreme over. We would ... totally want to watch that redemptive movie, actually. "His boxing career was over, and his reputation was ruined. But just when he was ready to throw in the towel on life, he met someone who inspired him to keep fighting ... when she tried to steal his sandwich at the park! Birds Of A Feather, coming Summer 2016."
Check out Mark's short story collection, or read his pigeon soup recipe at his website.
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Mark Hill
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