Part of their post-coital narrative is that after being satisfied, Cameron shouts to Justin, abusively, "Now, go make me a Rob Roy, bitch. Mommy's thirsty!" (image via aolpeople)
"Thalatta!Thalatta!"
--Xenophon, Anabasis.
Invariably a week cannot pass by without some celebrity couple smooching on a beach somewhere with the Sea undulating in the background. The celebrities -- hand in hand -- will deliver a scenery-chewing kiss, Oscar-worthy. And another celebrity weekly cover will have thus been launched, like Helen and the Thousand Ships.
Why is this thus? The implication of Depth? Timelessness?
Because nothing spells temporary more than two narcissitic actors preening for a pappareazi tipped off photo-op.
Which begs the question: After untold millenia of shrks jumping about the ocean have things reversed themselves: Has the Ocean jumped the shark?
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