This morning I watched the DVD of “Entrapment” starring Sean Connery and Catherine Zeta-Jones. And naturally I’ve fallen madly and hopelessly in love again, this time with Catherine Zeta-Jones. How could anyone not fall in love with her? She’s so stunningly fabulous, has that famous Cheshire smile, and seems quite brainy, the kind of person with whom one could converse endlessly.
She’s married to a man 25 years older than she, which means she might not immediately reject a man because of advanced full blown decrepitude such as the sorry state into which I’ve fallen. According to media reports, she and her husband are not getting along all that great, which indicates opportunities for romantic heroes such as I.
Other reports have indicated that she’s sort of depressed, and occasionally vacations in mental health facilities. My plan is that I will make contact with her by becoming a patient in one of these facilities that she frequents. I should have no difficulty getting admitted because I’m obviously a nut job as anyone who’s ever met me knows all too well.
Surely she walks the grounds when she’s not receiving group therapy or dining in the cafeteria. I’ll merely arrange to casually bump into her, as it were, and become my usually fascinating self. I’m confident that I can help her because obviously she’s depressed due to her unfulfilling marriage to an actor whose greatest love is probably himself. That’s why she’s demoralized, poor thing, and vacationing in mental health facilities. She needs someone who appreciates and understands her, such as I myself, although I’ve never met her and have no idea what she’s like. But I can always improvise.
I’ll explain to her the great truth which I have learned after many long decades of inquiry into the meaning of life. And it goes like this: “We’re not here for a long time. We’re here for a good time.”
I’m confident that soon she’ll appreciate the truth of this great wisdom, and together we’ll run off to Paris, or Rome, or Tokyo, and spend the rest of our lives in pursuit of pleasure, while acknowledging that the greatest pleasures of all are intellectual and spiritual, or at least that’s what I keep trying to convince myself whenever impure thoughts invade my so-called mind.
After we’re married, I might get invited on “The Jimmy Fallon Show” to discuss my theories of life. I might even be cast as leading man in her next blockbuster movie. The possibilities are endless if I play my cards right, although unkind people might be tempted to say that I’m not dealing from a full deck, as indicated by this very email.