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by Carol Schlanger

The day I turned fifty-eight in Los Angeles, which is like turning eighty-nine in Flint, Michigan, I decided to become a witch. It was the only option open to me after I refused to consider plastic surgery. I wanted to get old. Bags, jowls, wrinkles…I deserved them. They were mine! So what if no one would hire me, let me pitch, or walked right past me towards the mango salsa at parties. I liked who I was even if they didn’t. So, now I’m a Wiccan. I have lots of crystals, incense, talismans and a part time personal trainer who’s out on parole. Best of all, I have the POWER and I’m not a good witch, no way, I’m wicked, terrible and wise. I like sweeping up my little hovel in Mar Vista whose value has only been minimally affected by the sub- prime crisis, making soup out of animal parts, watching my teeth yellow, my nose grow and HBO. “The Tutors” is my favorite program, after that “The Sopranos” reruns” and “South park” All bestial and bloody and that’s the way I like it.

I believe that people know each other by the T.V. shows they watch. “American Idol,” “Dancing with the Stars”, “The Great Race”, “and America’s Next Top Model”, are our virtual coliseum where talented, fit, and hopeful gladiators compete to kill each other off, survive the critical lions and win.

Watching the losers, he delusional and pathetic being cut to shreds is….SCHADENFREUDE: The satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else’s misfortune. I love that the GERMANS have a name for it, “Look, there’s been a terrible accident: blood, guts, arms, legs- the new Lexus completely totaled! All right officer, I’ll move on but just tell me, was anyone really hurt? Oh no! Oh my God! Thank God it wasn’t me or mine. I use this intersection all the time. So what if I hate my life and drive a 1996 Datsun, I’m not dead I’m a lucky, lucky woman.”

SCHADENFREUDE: Coming from SCHADEN meaning damage or harm and FREUDE: joy.

The particular brand of Schadenfreude that afflicts me is STAR SCHADENFREDE. I coined the term myself. I’ve been in the biz 87 years, most of the women in my coven are, except for two who are in real estate: The Bizzy Blonds. It comes from all the call backs I didn’t get, all the pilots I wrote that didn’t make the slate, all the agents who dropped me or couldn’t take me on because they had someone else who was exactly my type. I’m a semi-human being. Not a type! All the shows I could have written but didn’t AND someone else did. All the pitches I didn’t get to pitch, all parts I could have played but didn’t because I didn’t have a “name”. All the parties I never went to, all the gowns I never wore, all the respect I never got, all the money I never made, and I am filled with a cold, malicious pleasure at the downfall and pain of the lucky, the beautiful and successful who didn’t have to WORK LIKE DOGS to get where they are; the more hideous, cruel and embarrassing, the better. I’ve asked my higher power, who’s too high for me, to remove this base and debased feeling whenever it pops up. But the only answer my higher power gives me is “Get a job”.

At the top of my Star Schadenfreud list is Jennifer Anniston. Why? Because she is so normal and wears a size 71/2 m shoe. I have six toes and very wide feet, all witches do, and that’s why we love Birkenstocks. My agent sent me out on a part to play her aunt . . . we never heard back.

Whether Rachael got Ross or not on “Friends”’ didn’t matter to me and Apparently it didn’t matter to Jennifer either. And Ross, David Schwimmer, I know his mother Myra, Myra Schwimmer; she never shuts up about him. “David’s doing this, David’s doing that.” Well, we haven’t seen David in anything really big lately. Getting a little guest shot on “30 Rock” doesn’t count. So, ha, ha! Myra. David’s out of the loop, there goes the Vineyard!

But Jennifer. Eight years fucking Brad Pit. Think of it. Looking up and seeing Brad’s face. The mercurial tenderness, the prowess, the beauty. Coming with Brad. “Oh Brad, oh!” And then he’s gone. Brad is gone! They’ll never be another one like him. Not for Jen. Vince Vaughn and that model guy, forgettabout it. She thought she was Brad’s rock but she turned out to be his pebble, cast out on the ocean of used up. Jennifer doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her. Hahahah! He’s gone Jen! Those arms, those eyes. Angelina Jolie. She’s gorgeous, you’re ordinary, plain. Her big lips are real. Real! The love of your life has had beautiful baby Shiloh with someone else. Watch Bradjolina adopt 10 children and save the world. If anyone can do it, they can.

Jen, I’m so sorry Jen, I know deep down you are just another sad, sweet woman with a broken heart, and you were really good in that movie with Jake Gyllianthal.

I should not wish shit on the shining, but I do. Take Kate Hudson, shoe size 8 narrow. Two thousand great young actresses in Hollywood and Kate gets all the work. And how about the time they let her out of her high school senior exams to get a bikini wax? In L.A. the children of stars in star fucker schools get star treatment and become stars themselves. Not Hillary Swank, she had to live in a car with her mother. Good job Hillary! At least there’s one of you out there. Well, you’re looking a little haggard Kate. It didn’t work out so well with poor, poor Owen Wilson, even though he had that great house on the Venice canals with all Viking appliances.

Nothing more need to be said about Lynzee Lohan and Paris Hilton. The more I think about the ravages of their old age. The happier I get.

This is not good… happy malice. I should not wish shit on the shining. It’s not that I don’t feel guilty, I do. I’d much rather be enlightened, living on a higher Karmic plain and I hear that right next to the Eslin Institute, there’s a new live in program for witches in recovery. But I’m not willing to make amends to anyone for anything. I’m too smart; too multi-talent. Anyway, I didn’t really want to become a witch. I wanted to direct.

So now when I see bad things happen to celebrities who have had it too easy, it’s a sweet relief. And I’m not alone. Star Schadenfreude is running our country without us. Who knows or cares about Darfur, global warming or getting rid of the lunatic in the Whitehouse who is destroying civilization as when know it, when Brittany forgets to wear her underpants?

Forgive me Great Mother for enjoying the sins and misfortunes of others.

Michael Jackson, Michael Jackson, Michael Jackson, Anna Nicole Smith, Anna Nicole Smith, Anna Nicole Smith. Paris, Paris, Paris, Paris. O.J., O.J., O.J., O.J., OJ.,

BUSH!

Blessed be.