Pop Rocks: No Matter Who Loses A Celebrity Battle Royale, We All Win
Feuds. Beefs. Tiffs. With few exceptions (mostly on Bravo), celebrities don't really get into physical altercations. They usually just bitch at each other in interviews or over Twitter, thereby perpetuating a steady state of pointless bickering that slips into uneasy detente any time the two principals share the same physical space.
Mayer and Swift, mere seconds before the weapons came out.
I'm not usually one to advocate violence, but I think a little escalation is in order. It's all well and good for Bill Maher to claim Donald Trump's father was an orangutan, and for Trump to sue Maher for $5 million in response, but there's never a satisfactory resolution. Either the lawsuit will get thrown out or Maher will settle. That's it; there's no chance the HBO host would go on Celebrity Apprentice and attack Trump in the boardroom with a katana, which is the only thing anybody really wants to see.
There's a simple solution : grab a dozen or so celebrities who hate each other (I used TMZ as my guide), dump them on an island, and let them kill each other off like in the movie Battle Royale. The survivor would get, I don't know, a lifetime talk show contract.
Though unbeknownst to them, the show would only air on QVC.
There were talks as recently as last year of making BR into a show on the CW, which I'm sure would've been really hardcore. My approach remains the correct one however, and the celebs I chose were:
Taylor Swift & John Mayer
Justin Bieber & Patrick Carney
Kim Kardashian & Kris Humphries
Rex Reed & Melissa McCarthy
Chris Brown & Frank Ocean
If you recall, the movie saw the students dropped off with food, water, a map, compass and a weapon or other item (some useful, some not so much). We can go by these rules, even though I'd bet honest American money none of these people could read a map. Here's how I imagine things would shake out (their weapon/item is indicated in parentheses after their names).
Taylor Swift (banjo) quickly allies with Kris Humphries (tearaway jersey) naturally assuming the biggest guy there would give a combat advantage but obviously unaware of the Nets PF's lack of stick-to-itiveness on the court. She serenades him, allowing Justin Bieber (nunchucks) to get the drop on them. After much flailing, Humphries immobilizes the "Baby Baby Baby" singer by holding him at arm's length while Swift brains him with her banjo. They have sex.
Meanwhile, John Mayer (dildo) immediately runs across Chris Brown (purse), the two flail ineffectively at each other for several minutes with their respective items (much to the delight of the viewing audience) until Melssa McCarthy (9mm) steps out of the shadows, firing wildly. Brown goes down, but Mayer escapes into the jungle. In what may be an important development, he drops his dildo in the process.
Patrick Carney (Swingline stapler) wanders around the island more or less unmolested, since few of those assembled know who he is. He stumbles upon Bieber's corpse and is so lost in introspection he never sees Frank Ocean (tire iron) emerge from the shadows and crack his skull. The Black Keys drummer falls next to Bieber and the two lie in state side by side. This poetic moment causes ratings to rival those of the "Who Shot J.R.?" episode of Dallas.
Kim Kardashian (hopping ball - more for our amusement than anything else) and Rex Reed (flaming bag of poo) have spent the early hours bitching about everything from divorce (hers) to online flare-ups over fat-shaming (his). Reed assures Kardashian she's merely "curvaceous," which puts her off guard. So much so, she never hears Taylor Swift, who - after pausing to compliment her shoes - swings her banjo at the reality star's perfectly sculpted eyebrows.
Kardashian bounces away frantically, but not very swiftly, and blunders straight into Humphries, who had been following Swift. As luck(?) would have it, the two are on the edge of a steep precipice, and the resulting collision sends them plummeting into a lagoon amply stocked with jagged rocks, sharks, saltwater crocodiles, and candiru. This poetic moment causes ratings to rival those of the final episode of M*A*S*H.
Ocean uses this moment to attack Swift. The two engage in a pitched battle, tire iron against banjo, before falling exhausted to the ground. They have sex. Reed hurls his flaming bag of poo at Ocean, screaming, "I'm the only Caribbean Queen!" Not only does he have the wrong Ocean, but the R&B singer deflects it back at Reed with a stray palm frond. The critic goes up like a torch, Ocean quips, "That's how you burn a witch, bitch."
Swift has rolled away in a panic, right against the feet ... of Mayer! The singer/guitarist/Lothario has shed all his clothing and smeared his body in mud, Predator-style. He takes Swift in his arms. They have sex. Thanks to a special one-time toll free opportunity, the audience votes to have them both garroted by British commandos. McCarthy stumbles into the clearing, she and Ocean eye each other warily before both threaten to take Nightlock and are declared dual winners by the Capitol.
I may have to work on that ending a little.