Fake Book Covers is on hiatus

Hello readers,

I'm sorry to say that I was laid off from my job at the magazine earlier this week.

Ironic that this is April Fool's Day, but nope, not a joke. I really don't have a job anymore. I am, however, going to start freelancing like crazy though. So if anybody needs a writer along the lines of Fake Book Covers...well, shit, let me know. Freelancing sounds like a damn good deal. Competitive, yes, but a good deal nonetheless.

So far, unemployment is pretty rad. My roommates, friends and I sat in the backyard grass, drinking cheap beer and shooting bottle with BB guns while listening to The Band.

Though I have much more free time to make fake book covers and their excerpts, I have no access to Photoshop. And this whole website really was just the mindless creation of boredom at my job.

So, for now, www.fakebookcovers.com will be on temporary hiatus.

One day, I figure I'll get some copy of Photoshop and start this nonsense up again. It was a lot of fun and it kept me writing every day though. But for now, I have no way of doing it.

I hope I at least entertained a few people. I tried to balance celebrity gossip, fiction and poetry, and will do so again if/when this site is making the rounds again.

If you would like to be notified immediately if/when Fake Book Covers starts posting again, please send your name and your e-mail address to kilroy.artist@gmail.com

I will seriously contact you personally, and you'll seriously only ever get one e-mail from me.

Thanks for reading, and if you told your friends about Fake Book Covers, well, thanks for telling your friends.

Cheers,
Jake Kilroy

I Am Such A Bitch

"I Am Such A Bitch"
by Katherine Heigl

AN EXCERPT:
I'm not exactly sure how you keep working in Hollywood, but on strategy, I figure, is to talk shit on every person I've ever worked with.

You know, I spent years working with Shonda Rimes and her show Grey's Anatomy, but whatever, the show's gotten dumb. It's not that I'm a terrible actress. It's totally not. It's just the writing is subpar.

And then, after all the cool kids thought I was a bitch, I decided to work with the extremely popular Judd Apatow for his movie Knocked Up. But then, I thought, "Hey, seeing as how I'm a celebrity and I should care about things, why not bash the shit out of the guy who just put me in one of the most successful movies of the year?"

I mean, everyone was calling Knocked Up sexist, and I don't want to be ugly and unpopular. So yes, out of nowhere, after I read the script, auditioned for the part, filmed the entire movie and did all the promotion for the film...I decided to talk shit on Apatow and everything about the movie I was just in, as if I had no idea that's what the movie was about.

"What? Knocked Up is a movie about a woman getting pregnant by a loser and she's pissed about it? Unbelievable. I thought it was a documentaries about fairies and stock car racing. I'm really sorry everyone I owe nothing to. Please don't hate me. I just want to be a cheerleader in the hip crowd of Hollywood," I told every single magazine that would listen to me. Oh, I would just go on and on about how Apatow tricked me like some kind of wizard. Him and his crew of freaks and geeks and magicians cast a spell on me! And they only did it because I was a woman! What else was I supposed to do besides complain to every single magazine, from Vanity Fair to People. The media had to hear what I wanted to say.

And why wouldn't they? I'm Katherine "Bonkers" Heigl.

Now that I think everyone is realizing that I'm not actually a feminist, but just an attractive girl that complains about men, I might not score all those acting gigs I thought were waiting for me. So, after talking mad shit on the show that has basically launched my career, I've decided to publicly act like a Hollywood veteran and be generous enough to stay on and with the program.

Even though I'm a total feminist who says women shouldn't be portrayed as anything less than deep creatures of intense intellect, I will still continue to make brain-dead romantic comedies about casual sex and pose for magazines covering my boobs with my hands.

How does everyone not see that I'm the most grateful feminist ever?

The Outside World Still Scares Me

"The Outside World Still Scares Me"
a pulp novel
by Allison Gergley

AN EXCERPT:
"Their cars are fast and their guns are loaded," Karen said, finally able to catch her breath.

"Yeah, well, I've always admired a bad man with a good weapon," mumbled Saint John.

"Even when it's pointed directly at you?" she asked.

"Especially when it's pointed directly at you," he said, cocking his gun and peaking out of the alley.

"You know, you're pretty cute when you're trying to save someone's life."

"I hope you say that at my funeral," said Saint John, as her shot two rounds down the alley. The two shots echoed down the parkway. Some residents were taking notice. No one had spoken in the adjacent hardware store or barber shop for the last 20 minutes.

"What happens to a saint when he dies?" Karen asked.

"You really think this is a good time to ask questions?"

"I'd figure it is, as we could both die in this alley. And when is there a better time to ask questions than before your death?"

Saint John stared at her. "Lady, I'm hiding behind a trashcan, shooting at your enemies. Maybe reconsider your line of questioning."

"All's fair in love and war."

"Wow. What a throw-away quote. And just so you know, everything's fair when there's a gun in your hand," Saint John said before kissing her on the lips.

Give Me A Break

"Give Me A Break"
by Everyone

TAGLINE:
Seriously, Natalie? Do you know how attractive and awesome you are and how much older and married he is? Fucking...come on.

The Incredibly Short & Oddball Poems of Jake Kilroy

"The Incredibly Short & Oddball Poems of Jake Kilroy"
by Jake Kilroy

AN EXCERPT:
"The Relationship-Ender"
if it's stupid, then it's probably a poem by jake kilroy.

I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt.
I just wanna wear my brown shirt

Dear Bruce Willis...You Are A Winner

"Dear Bruce Willis...You Are A Winner"
by Jake Kilroy

AN EXCERPT:
Again, Bruce, I'm sorry that I'm making such a big deal of this, but...dude...you're a winner. That girl is 24 years your junior. She's 30, man. And she's a British lingerie model born in Malta. You win for the entire century, Mr. Willis. Goddamn, she looks like she could be a goddamn Bond girl. She might as well have angel wings, you lucky son of a gun. She can probably massage your back just by looking at you and send high-fives through international phone calls.

I heard that one time, she was grinding up on a guy at a club, and he was pregnant the next day. Her blood is made of melted rubies, she's the Holy Grail and she got a dude off once by telling him he looked nice. And she wasn't even really talking to him. She was speaking to the guy behind

And she invented Australia. Yep. Invented Australia. The whole land mass, the flora, the fauna, the people. Everything.

Just tell me how you did it, because there's no way this is her thing. Are you some kind of sentinel?

What?

I'm sorry?

Oh wow, really?

Huh, well, I guess it's not that big of a mystery then. It actually is her thing.

I mean, you're a buff, cool, good-looking 54-year-old. And she dated Flavio Briatore, who is a 59-year-old goofy-looking businessman? Well, I guess you're a serious upgrade.

This world makes no sense to me.

Goodbye, Summer Breakfast

"Goodbye, Summer Breakfast'
a novel
by Jake Kilroy

AN EXCERPT:
"Edward, have you seen the morning paper?" Caroline asked.

"Seen it? I dreamed it," Edward yelled from the kitchen.

"Edward, you know I have no idea what that means."

"It means there's nothing in there that you couldn't make up," he said, entering the dining room while polishing a sink faucet. "I've had dreams of what's happened and how it's covered. It's that easy. A child with too much sugar before bed could most often write the entire local section."

"Oh, come now, Edward, there's surely something worthwhile. You can't just ballpark things."

"You can if the other side never hits one out of the ballpark. The newspaper will have the same coverage of world politics and social issues for the next decade. They'll write the same opinion columns through a slew of gentleman and the comics will rotate, but the same mainstays mainly stay. The art section won't ever actually understand jazz, blues or classical, but will write like Jesus Christ is in every band. Praise, praise, praise, be the new media. Tell me, is there some stupid portrait of an artist thinking on the cover or is it a stupid drawing of a city skyline with oversized palm trees?"

"You're not going to believe this, Edward, but it's both," Caroline said with a staggering tone.

"Of course I believe it. I dreamed it."

God, I Am Stupid

"God, I Am Stupid"
by LeAnn Rimes

AN EXCERPT:
I know what you're thinking, "Wow, how could you be so stupid, LeAnn? You're on the heels of a slight comeback as one of the world's most adorable and lovable country-pop singers and you had an affair in public."

Well, I'm here to set the record straight. I'm not stupid. I just make really, really, really, really stupid mistakes. I mean, sure, maybe I shouldn't have been making out with my co-star when we weren't on set, and in a public, crowded restaurant in Hollywood. It's almost like I was so randy that I couldn't wait for the bedroom. We had to kiss at the table like we were 14-year-olds looking to get to second base at a Marie Calendar's because we have nowhere else to grope. Or a senior citizen couple that polite kisses after each bite. Looking back on things, I should've waited until we were out of the restaurant.

You know what? The more I think about it, the more I think that yes, I am incredibly, incredibly, incredibly...stupid.

Also, you know what else is really stupid? My shoes on the cover of this here book. And my face. It looks like I farted and I'm waiting for you to figure out it was me.

Talking In The Park

"Talking In The Park"
a novel
by Jake Kilroy

AN EXCERPT:
"You know, today's the first day of spring, Henry, and you haven't said anything about the weather," Shelley said.

Henry laughed mildly. "Yes, I know. I just suppose I'm taking longer this year. The park seems greener than usual, the river more blue and the bridge more of a landmark than part of a transit system. I just see things better now. I'll be smelling the roses more often this season, I imagine."

"Are you dying, Henry? Do you have cancer? Most people don't use their five senses until one of them are taken away or their heart begins to fail."

They kept walking.

"No, no, no. My heart is as steady and sturdy as it is for any man in his late 50s and your legs are as slender as that of a 30-year-old career gal."

Shelley laughed, "Oh yeah? And a career gal, eh? Wow, you miss the '70s, it seems."

"Well, when you drive fast for a decade, you wonder what it feels like in your twilight. Maybe I do miss something. I'm not missing anything though, you know?" Henry said as he leaned on the rail, looking at a man in a kayak. "When is the dinner party on Saturday?"

"When the sun goes down."

"That's not very specific time."

"I'm not a specific person."

"Too true. Ah, Shelley, these conversations in the park, these long walks and longer talks, they never go anywhere, do they?"

"No, but they mean everything."

Natasha Richardson, 1963-2009

"Natasha Richardson, 1963-2009"