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Revland's Movers & Shakers ©1999 John Tynes They're the up, the coming, the young, the restless, and we bring them to you first, ready for prompt, smooth digestion and lasting relief that coats the turbulent, bubo-ridden surface of our intestinal culture. Hours, nay days ahead of their blinding overexposure in the cancerous sunset of fleeting fame, we capture them on quality film stock and give them the expert processing they need to come out sharp, clear, and vibrant every time. They're today's celebrities, last night, before the great gurney of obscurity wheels them off to the final makeover in the sky. We have just one word for these glittering sparks in our fundament: they're people people. NAME: Ricky Lime AGE: 23 LAST SEEN IN: That commercial for that shoe by that director, you know NEXT PROJECT: Something with Tarantino or that guy who did that thing about the kid LIKES: Va-voom, our boy Ricky loves the ladies DISLIKES: Those chicks that crowd his god-damn space BLUE SKY DREAMS1: "Someday I wanna own a swank joint, you know, one of those celebrity sidewalk-O.D. kinda places." UP CLOSE & PERSONAL: "Oh god," Ricky Lime weeps in a corner of his apartment, huddled on the floor, after this reporter 2 informs him of his mother's death from lung cancer that morning. "Christ oh christ mom, mom, oh jeez oh god." This is a young man in a hurry, a handsome young buck on his way to the sky palace. Ricky Lime came out of nowhere three months ago, shooting to the top of a FOXY MEN I'M, LIKE, TOO FAT FOR poll of ten thousand fourteen to sixteen year old caucasian girls interviewed at the Gap. In moments, the dream limo opened its doors and Ricky bounced in, clove cigarette in hand, and made 3 tracks for stardom. His breakthrough role as a fresh beat-daddy on a commercial seen during Hyperion Bay set even Martha Raye's pristine yet freakish denture-teeth to chattering and the glamorous white telephones of Hollywood's gagascenti rang off the hook with the news of this fresh young fellow with a pocket full of stardust and a newfound taste for nose candy. "Mom oh mom," Ricky wails, cigarette ashing on the floor as a va-voomilicious blond starlet lolls on the bed in lingerie by Frederick's. Ricky bares the pain of his little-boy-lost soul with a courage and an openness you would never see in Old Hollywood. No, this is the shock of the new. This is the next wave. This is the future here, crying on the floor of its apartment, and this reporter slips out the back door to leave Ricky with the first, bright pangs of celebrity. I've got a word for this boy, this marvel of the age, this product of space-age plastics, and that word is NEXT BIG THING. --- 1 "BLUE SKY DREAMS" is Revland's exclusive trademarked term for the broken hopes and shattered goals of people who will never achieve them. 2 falsely 3 needle
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