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Back to the secret training camp of Julia bin-Roberts

... Julia bin-Roberts!

Like all important Hollywood insiders, you know that in blockbuster films, makeup and wardrobe and sets and special effects count for only about 98% of the total thespic "performance." It's just like with milk, and who doesn't like milk? What carries the big films (this is something you'll want to say to Julia Roberts over a nice salad) is, of course, that crucial 2%, by which I mean, of course, the acting. Be sure to emphasize the first syllable. Act-ing. Be sure she is looking at you when you say it. Look sincere. You may want to bring visual aids. Point at the visual aids as you say Act-ing.

And don't ask her to meet you at Hamburger Hamlet, or Johnny Rocket's, for heaven's sake. Julia's a big star. Go and pick her up. (And don't forget to pay afterwards. Rich stars are picky about things like that. Also, it might be best not to mention milk, in case she's vegan.)

But can Julia Roberts do "stern and/or terrifying?"

Can Julia Roberts do stern and/or terrifying! You bet your hooker/stepmother/film star/low-paid legal assistant with a heart of gold, Julia Roberts can do stern and/or terrifying! I can't believe anyone would ask, which is why I am anticipating the question here. Listen, we all saw Erin Brockovich, didn't we? That was fairly stern. We'll let the makeup and wardrobe and sets and special effects take care of the terrifying part. Imagine, if you will, a bearded Julia Roberts inside a tent in some remote desert wastes, maybe the Imperial Dunes, near Yuma, we'll have someone check this out, with explosions rocking her secret terrorist training base, while she exhorts and emotes and jabbers concerning the Jihad against the decadent West and so forth, meanwhile she's maybe wearing one of those decadent Erin Brockovich mini skirts and all but spilling over the top of her decadent Erin Brockovich tight blouse. Maybe those Pretty Woman thigh-highs, if that wouldn't be overkill, your call. But wouldn't that just show the Taliban. Wouldn't that just show a whole lot of interesting things, if we get lucky. And the death scene. Killer. I'm telling you, Arafat will forget all about Vanessa Redgrave when Julia bin-Roberts is released from the film canisters. East meets West meets drama meets tragedy meets sex meets sexism meets box office dollaroonies. Wahoo. What's that tingling? Looming Oscar® speeches, perhaps?

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