So I haven’t posted in a week and a half. Was it due to laziness? Hardly. I’ve been hatching a plan. A plan so righteous, so progressive and so oddly heartwarming, that it required my full attention. That plan? Rescuing Suri Cruise from the nefarious -and by nefarious, I of course mean “batshit crazy”- clutches of her would-be paterfamilias, Mr. Tommy Cruise. Here’s how things went down…
My cohort in offline bitchy celeb ragging, Audiebird, has always had an amusingly soft spot for Suri Cruise. While she revels in tearing apart the bodies and souls of the pretty people who make up our entertainment (you should see how she goes on about star cankles), she patently refuses to speak about Suri. She just loves her. And who can blame her? The kid, while quite possibly a bit down syndrome-y (I mean, just look at that face), is supes totes adores, but beyond that, you can’t help but feel sorry for her.
Shiloh doesn’t necessarily come from a stable environment either, but you have to think it’s a fantastical life that kid is going to lead. But what becomes of Suri, day to day? Her mom is in a mind prison, her father is bipolar in the least, clinically depressive in the middle, full on crazy at the most, and most importantly, a freakishly actor-y actor at the top. As well, the swirls of Scientology envelop her whole being. It’s nigh on inevitable that she will need extensive amount of therapy. Meredith Grey-levels of therapy. Most celebabies will need a shrink at some point, but c’mon! Suri has to take the couch prize here (no pun intended).
And so it was that a few days after David Cook triumphed in American Idol, Audiebird and I were sitting around, bored out of our minds (cause what were we gonna do, go see Indy 4? How about no, OK?), flipping through random US Weekly’s, as we do, when we saw an item about Tom and Katie hosting a huge party to celebrate the purchase of their new Beverly Hills mansion (read: actual, physical locally operated prison for Katie). And suddenly hit me. Like a smack in the face. Like a Jessica Alba pregnant bikini pic I couldn’t look away from. We need to save Suri Cruise. Audiebird and I had already mused about flying to New York to see Katie’s Broadway show and then snatching the cute tyke from backstage and whisking her away to a better life. But that was silly talk. Back when our shows were still on. But with repeats on across the board, now we were serious (read: bored). It had to be done.
Cause the crazy celebrity parents always win. Follow the tabloids long enough, the Star Tracks never change. Unless, when that perfect celebrity offspring comes along, you take her and sell your story to TMZ. Then, us civilians get to win. (Did I rush that speech? Felt like I rushed it?)
So we set up to make this happen. We hired eight guys to get the job done: a Boeski, a Jim Brown, a Miss Daisy, two Jethros, a Leon Spinks, and the biggest Ella Fitzgerald ever. I thought we were covered, but Audiebird felt we needed one more. So we got one more. Spoiler alert: it was Matt Damon (he had his reasons).
We had our plan and were going to put it into effect until we realized something… none of us wanted to go to jail. Also none of us really wanted to be around Tom Cruise. So we ditched the plan, got drunk and listened to David Cook sing “Always Be My Baby” on loop for a couple hours. Great night. We were a bit bummed that Suri would have to continue to endure her stranglehold of a life, but we vowed to keep our eyes open, and if ever the time was right, say, at a random Starbucks run-in or next year’s NYC Marathon, we would rescue Suri AND Katie, and make this Star-crazy world a bit better of a place.
But I wanted to share with you guys our plan. It was a good one, and I see no reason to keep it under wraps. So forthwith, please enjoy our roundtable discussion on how we were going to steal/save Suri Cruise.
INT. THE JAY’S PLACE – NIGHT
Nine guys of various levels of fame, plus Audiebird and The Jay, sit around the living room of The Jay’s palatial Valley estate. A plasma screen behind shows a 3D blueprint of the target site, and rotates to show the plan as it’s announced.
THE JAY: Gentlemen: the 3000 block of Beverly Boulevard. Otherwise known as the new Beverly Hills Mansion of famed batshit crazy actor Tom Cruise, and his zombie war bride, Katie Holmes. Together, they’re one of the three most photographed power couples in Hollywood… Suri Cruise. The most adorable celebaby ever conceived in a lab using the egg of a one-time hottie teen drama actress and the sperm cocktail of a long-dead science fiction writer, the diminutive star of The Firm, and quite possibly Chris Klein. When not locked in Katie’s mind prison, which is rare, or in Tom’s desperate arms for a not at all posed, candid photo op, which is even more rare, she is located below the mansion, beneath two hundred feet of solid earth, in her crib. She safeguards every potential report of Tom’s compromised heterosexuality and the legitimacy of his sham marriage. …And we’re going to steal/save her.
MATT DAMON: Smash-and-grab job, huh?
AUDIEBIRD: It’s a little more complicated than that.
MATT DAMON: Well yeah! (Matt Damon!)
THE JAY: Courtesy of Perez Hilton, d-bag online gossip columnist dujour, are security tapes from TomKat’s new mansion. Okay. Bad news first. This place houses a security system which rivals most American Idol Season Finale tapings. First: we have to get within the front gates, which anyone knows takes more than a smile and a Star Map. Next: through the auditing doors, each of which requires a different six-digit code changed every twelve hours. Past those lies the elevator, and this is where it gets tricky: the elevator won’t move without authorized tone scale mood indications –
AUDIEBIRD: — which we can’t fake –
THE JAY: — and theta level confirmations from both the Celebrity Center within Scientology Headquarters and the crib vault below – -
AUDIEBIRD: — which we won’t get.
THE JAY: Furthermore, the elevator shaft is rigged with SP motion detectors –
AUDIEBIRD: — meaning if we manually override the lift, or don’t believe in Xenu, the shaft’s exit will lock down automatically and we’ll be trapped.
THE JAY: Once we’ve gotten down the shaft, though, then it’s a walk in the park: just three Scientologists with personality tests, and the most elaborate vault door conceived by man or L. Ron. Any questions?
Silence. For a moment, each man keeps his two dozen questions or more to himself. At last, one speaks up… The Random Chinese Guy (we tried to get the pan-asian dude who played Rufio, but he was booked). Of course, no one understands The Random Chinese Guy. Except Audiebird (natch).
AUDIEBIRD: No. Tunneling is out. They have scales monitoring the ground for one hundred yards in every direction. If a paparazzi tried to breath their air, or steal their garbage, they’d know about it. Anyone else?
SCOTT CAAN: You said something about good news…
THE JAY: The Hollywood Tabloid Commission stipulates: a celebrity must make enough public appearances to cover their Q rating and magazine cover stories. That means: during the week, by entertainment industry law, pictures of Suri and the family will net you anywhere from sixty to seventy thousand dollars in cash and coin. On a weekend, out with just Katie, between eighty and ninety thousand. On her own, without Tom or Katie, taken from a private party, like the one two weeks from tonight, the night we’re going to steal/save Suri, at least a hundred and fifty thousand and a full segment on Access Hollywood. Without breaking a sweat. Now there are eleven of us. Each with an equal share. You do the math.
OLD CARL REINER: I have a question. Say we get into the Mansion, and through the auditing checkpoint, and down the tone scale elevator we can’t move, and past the scientologists with personality tests, and into the crib vault we can’t open…
AUDIEBIRD: Without being seen by the cameras.
THE JAY: Oh, right. Sorry. I forgot to mention that.
REALLY OLD CARL REINER: Say we do all that. We’re just supposed to walk outta there with Suri Cruise herself, without getting stopped?
THE JAY: Yeah.
Would have been a great plan… one day, Suri. One day. Be strong…