HOLLYWOOD – The world of entertainment was in shock today as everyone who hasn’t already died in 2016 has died.

The news broke on twitter when everyone’s agent released the following statement:

We are very sad to report that late last night everyone not already dead died. It happened peacefully. Our thoughts and prayers are with the family.

Tributes didn’t flow in from anywhere because those people were dead as well. The deaths come in what have been a bumper year for celebrity deaths, following the deaths of Prince, Leonard Cohen, Anton Yelchin, David Bowie, George Michael, Gary Shandling, Alan Rickman, Carrie Fisher and Debbie Reynolds.

Everyone else has now died, except for Keith Richards.


HOLLYWOOD – Pops legends Madonna and Bob Dylan have been taken into protective custody it was revealed today.

The two musical legends Madonna and Bob Dylan have been taken into protective custody in a secret medical facility, the White House said, following the death yesterday of Prince. A spokesperson for the White House told the Studio Exec:

We just can’t risk it. We picked them up last night and we took them to a secret location where they will have twenty-four hour care and monitoring. There are also recording studios attached and writing materials in case Mr. Dylan wants to continue that wonderful autobiography of his. We’re going to keep them until January, 2017 if necessary.

The move received bipartisan support with the exception coming from Ted Cruz who, speaking from 1956, said that ‘pop music was the work of the devil’.

More on this story as it comes in.


In which our Austrian contributor, Fitzcarraldo director Werner Herzog, discusses his supermarket shopping habits.

If one is to ever fully comprehend the depths of ennui laced with the sharp jags of hyperactive stupidity that characterizes our post-millennial world, one could do a lot worse than go to a supermarket and gaze transfixed by something that would have had Andy Warhol eyes lighting up with avarice as he contemplates another sale of one of his ‘paintings’ and perhaps a fancy new wig as a treat for himself. I once met Andy Warhol and made the mistake of asking him how the soup had tasted – my Austrian sense of humor was perhaps too refined for this famously morose pop artist. He told me it tasted like tomatoes and then did a face which seemed to say ‘what did you expect dummkopf?’ Now what was I talking about? I’ve totally lost my thread. Was it something to do with Prince? I’ve always wondered if Prince was any relation to Queen. He would have been a perfect support act for them. Or for Elvis, for that matter. A vision appears to me of Freddie Mercury and Elvis sitting on thrones in Graceland with Prince, happily playing with his train set at their feet.

Supermarkets! I was thinking about supermarkets, but as often happens when I am in supermarkets I forget completely why I am there and my thoughts trail off. Lidl is by far my favorite European supermarket. To begin with it is very cheap and often you can find strange things you can’t find anywhere else. There are always surprising gadgets like apple corers or electric mosquito rackets. Or those swing ball games with the tennis ball and the string and you hit it and it swings around a pole in a way that can only be described as ghastly. The people who work at Lidl are all without a single exception suffering from the deepest depression. They are strictly forbidden from speaking Welsh if they can speak Welsh, and are forced to try and speak Welsh if they can’t. And ridiculed for their inept efforts. It truly is a miserable place. A little bit like Wales.

In this it is not dissimilar from Walmart.

I believe that Prince worked in a Walmart as a struggling young singer song writer. But of course I might have been misinformed about all of this.

For more wisdom from Werner Herzog, Click Here.


In which our guest contributor Austrian film director Werner Herzog describes his uniquely idiosyncratic Christmas experience.

As Christmas approaches, I feel increasingly like I am trapped in one of Prince’s later more superfluous albums just before he felt it necessary to change his name to some strange hieroglyph that I still have difficulty pronouncing. I refuse to believe in a God who would have the bad taste to be born in the middle of Winter but at the same time I am overwhelmed by the opportunity to exchange unpleasant gifts with people I have spent my life pretending to like. This year however I have been perturbed by an occurrence.

My next door neighbor Mr. Hunter White has put up a nativity scene on his garden and has a model of Santa climbing a rope ladder into his bedroom window. There are also lights of many different colors that flash according to their own whimsical sequence. The effect on the whole is exquisitely ghastly and makes the whole of my frame shiver with nervous exhaustion. I have spent every night since he put the display up standing on my lawn and gazing at it and trying to make sense of the slapdash composition. Mr. White asked me last night if I would stop and I told him ‘I am afraid that would be utterly impossible.’

From this my neighbor who, despite the kitsch of his garden and house display, is not without some sensitivity, asked me if I disapproved of his Holiday Decorations. I respected his question and told him candidly I did not dislike them, but for me they uttered a truth to my soul that was too terrifying to fully comprehend and it was for this reason that I stood night after night in my own silent vigil trying in some way to unravel the mystery.

‘It’s just supposed to be pretty,’ he said.

But I could tell he wished me to expand and so I pointed to the Santa climbing the rope. ‘Look at the old man, Santa Claus, itself a derivative of Saint Nicholas, in some countries known as Old Nick, and as old Nick in his scarlet red garb, a figure who represent none other than the Devil himself. Climbing into your window. A smart devil. He will kill you and your wife first and then will be able to murder your three children at his leisure, before than partaking of the repast you have no doubt left out for him.’

‘Oh,’ said Mr. White, his complexion now perfectly suiting his snowy surname. ‘I might take that down then. But the nativity, that’s a nice scene?’

‘No, my God! That’s the worst of all,’ I cried.

‘How do you mean?’

‘The baby Jesus is born in a manger and the Maghi and Shepherds look on. But those Maghi have informed Herod of the prophecy and Herod in an attempt to forestall a threat to his own power will murder every male baby in Galilee. That baby has – by his birth – killed thousands of babies.’

‘But it isn’t his fault, he’s a baby.’

‘He is a GOD! How can it not be his fault?’

The next day the Nativity scene had been dismantled, Santa packed away and the sound of the children weeping and Mr. and Mrs. White arguing could clearly be heard above the sound of Lovesexy, Prince’s tenth studio album. Merry Christmas everybody. Merry Christmas.

For more wisdom from Werner Herzog, Click Here.



In which our new guest contributor, esteemed film director Werner Herzog, goes to the dentist.

I have always been a solitary man by nature, but one who is plagued by the persistent anxiety that I am living in the middle of a Prince song, not his more recent stuff, but something from the Eighties or early Nineties. To ease my soul from this unwarranted burden I seek solace in company and it was so that I found myself in London in a cupcake café with a woman I will call for the purposes of this record Elga, though her name was actually Sharon. Elga had ordered a cake, with icing on top. I had ordered nothing. I was famished but was also in the midst of a three week experiment to eat my own hunger. It was a terrible thing.

I told Elga that the cake was a terrible thing. “But it looks delicious Werner,” she said.

No, I told her. It is a terrible thing. It might taste sweet, and it might nourish some part of you, but in the end it will poison you. You must not eat the cake, Elga. It is your childhood, the father you never knew …

“But I knew my father,” she made bold to assert.

Not this one you didn’t. He’s your secret father, I admonish her. You must not eat the cake overwise you will be eating you secret father. And before she could object I ate the cake. It was scrummy.

A week later I realised I had made a terrible mistake. The cake had created a cavity at the core of my being and also in one of my molars. I cried out that the Universe was ruled by a pitiless God called Indifference and went to the dentist.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked, but after forty minutes, his patience obviously exhausted by my complaints of ennui and quotations from Prince’s back catalogue, and ever the dentist, he asked me about my teeth. He had fingers the size and smell of cigars and his probing caused exquisite discomfort.

It would have to come out, he decided with what seemed like a minimum of reflection as to the subsequent integrity of my being. I told him that if he did not succeed in removing the tooth without causing me pain, then his whole life, his childhood, his family, his education, all the experiences he had hitherto enjoyed would all have been a complete waste of time and he would be declared, at the very core of his being, a failure. I am not sure if it was due to the pressure he subsequently felt, or if it was because I cried out “Turn your fat ass round so I can work on that zipper baby!” or if it was because of some unholy twist in the irredeemable rottenness of the universe, but he neglected to administer any anaesthetic before the extraction.

I cried like a child and howled like a wolf. A falsetto Austrian wolf who sounded a little like Prince.

For more wisdom from Werner Herzog, Click Here.


HOLLYWOOD – One thing everyone missed in their forensic study of the teaser trailer for Star Wars: The Force Awakens – including in our 5 FACTS post – was the inclusion of a hitherto mystery cast member: Prince!

The Artist Formerly Known as Prince, or Prince to his friends, was revealed only if you froze the frame as the clue was imperceptible to the naked eye. Fortunately, Studio Exec reader @perspectivator was willing to go the extra mile:

Dear Studio Exec,

I’ve always admired your fine comic genius and your commitment to FACT. And so when I discovered this secret clue inside the trailer, I had no doubt who I should send it to. Publish this so that we can all see the hidden darkness of the Sith Lord Formerly Known as Symbol, formerly Known as Prince.

The little purple one has obviously been elongated by Peter Jackson like technology to fit the role of a forbidding villain more convincingly. And to increase his villainy there are also a pair of saber-horns!

For more on the Star Wars Universe CLICK HERE.