Not In My Hollywood

Mr. Galifianakis

I see right through your disguise. I don't know who you think you're fooling, but this is one mammal who's not going to dip into your kiddie pool of deception. You parade around like you're immortal; as if you think you're untouchable. Who do you think you are? Tim Curry? Well, believe you me, this is one Dunstin who isn't checking in (get it?).
Don't you understand that you're disrupting the whole balance? We only watch movies because we want to believe in a world where everyone is beautiful. Who doesn't want to see a school where even the ugly, nerdy girl can become the prom queen with some Pantene Pro-V, a push-up, and contacts? Where homeless paupers look like Leonardo DiCaprio and every fast food employee is a Goldie Hawn look-a-like.

Mr. Galifianakis, this is a plea.
Get a job or get a haircut. You're like a prokaryotic cell with a drinking problem. How do you even sleep at night knowing you're defecating on the holy name of Hollywood; perpetuators of eating disorders, Diet Coke, and cigarettes. The truth is, I shiver at the thought of raising my pup/cub in a world where looking within society's average physical bubble is even acceptable.

You may have pulled a wool (no offense, betches) over the eyes of the public but lest we social elites ever succumb to your refusal to shave, moisturize or photoshop you photoshoots (and this is without even trying). You could be so much more.

But I guess you're alright with settling for average. Sure, you've got your soul but what good have you done with that? I haven't heard you on an Alicia Keys track as of late.

You know who else refused to change? The tyrannosaurus rex. Do you remember what happened to him? Of course not. Because now he doesn't exist anymore.

Enjoy extinction, asshole.