This is what happens. You get an Oprah launching a cable network. You get a Tina Fey doing Garnier commercials. And you get a Rita Wilson dropping a debut album. Mrs. Tom Hanks is adorable, a fine actress and no doubt very entertaining in the shower and while chopping onions. And that’s where she should have drawn the line. But no one says “No” to the rich and famous.
Here’s how I envision the whole Rita Wilson cutting an album thing: At one of an endless array of A-list Hollywood parties in which Rita implores the guests with her false-modestly delivered, “Don’t make me sing!” she indeed, does sing. In fact, she’s hired the pianist and has spent weeks rehearsing prior to the soiree. A hearty round of cocaine-fueled applause follows her set, during which time one of her showbiz frienemies snickers sarcastically, “Darling, you must cut an album!”
Cut to bedtime. Mrs. Hanks, attempting to channel Ann Margret, slinks into bed, coyly purring to hubby, “Tommy, who do you know at Decca?” Cut to album cover. Cut to this:
Rita, I’ll say it because no one else has: Return the outfit to Stevie Nicks and quietly slink away from your new-fangled midlife and oh-so-misguided singing career. Do it now.
My Friday rant is now complete.
Update: And then there’s this. I rest my case: