|This article is part of UnNews||Straight talk, from straight faces|
21 January 2012
BEVERLY HILLS, California - Today is "All Narcissists Look In A Mirror Day" and the whole town is jumping. Actors converged on Rodeo Drive to buy themselves things that poor people couldn't imagine affording even after imagining they've won the lottery. Lawyers, agents, and studio execs met at Spagos for lunch, dinner, and an evening nightcap, all patting themselves on the back while making sure that the guy next to them saw what they were doing while at the same time watching themselves and the guy next to them in a mirror. Naturally taking life's center-stage, impossibly gorgeous women and inexplicably groomed men purchased yearly-salary-range shoes, purses and watches--each outdoing their friends and sisters by a wide margin. The high heeled's shoes slanted to such a degree that many of the upper-end models slid down the incline only to land perfectly on their feet in front of the full-lengths to the applause and smiles of salesgirls, hanger-ons, and their own perfectly poised reflections.
Celebrants posed before their own cameras and, acting as their own paparazzi, creating frameable masterpieces of the object of their affection. Their own melodious voices and infectious laughter was virtual symphonic music to their ears. And, always willing to share themselves with themselves, narcissists stopped what they were doing every few minutes to go outside and stare admiringly and longingly into storefront windows decorated for the occasion. Delightfully appearing appropriately multiplied and otherworldly attractive in ascending layers of cut-glass, designer crystal, and shiny metal objects, they saw no imperfection as they ever-so-lightly moved their perfect hair a little bit off their beautifully formed foreheads with wonderfully manicured hands. To each his own the motto of the day, all looked forward to an erotically charged solitary evening of scented candles, fine wine, and the creation of newly-cherished short-term memories.
During the festivities, just inside the infamous mirrored room in the Diego Spa on Sunset, a group of narcissists gathered to interview themselves. This reporter joined them, to preen and listen in.
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?" they intoned in unison, each knowing the answer even before the mirror gave its anticipated private reply. "How did you get so good looking" they basked, then asked, the mirror. "I love you" the mirror lip-synced back, showing off their very best side and just the right amount of cleavage and/or chest hair. "You too," they answered, blushing, singularly knowing that love's magic was in the air. Their individually fascinating interviews complete, the self-absorbed confidently glanced skin deep into the polished chrome of the door as they exited onto a street ripe with glass and surface.
|This article features first-hand journalism by an UnNews correspondent.|
In the late evening moonlight, created by unimaginably small pieces of the sun rebounding off a large luminous rocky body, some newly formed narcissists, at last truly seeing their imaginary inner-beauty shining forth from reflective outer objects, fell in love at first sight. Breathing heavily and scenting the air with ambrosia's warm release, they seductively hugged themselves, retreated into private rooms, undressed none another, and consummated their new relationship while softly moaning into their own ears the holiday's beautifully experienced, intoxicatedly-hypnotic, and self-reflective anthem, "I want to hold your hand...I want to hold your haaaannnndddddd...I want to hold your hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, hand, hannnnnd."