I used to live in Shreveport LA where weirdly enough they shot a bunch of major motion pictures after production was moved there from New Orleans after hurricanes Katrina and Rita. One day I was walking to work downtown and outside my office building I passed a really scabbishly-dressed and overly made-up prostitute (not a common sight there). I kind of scowled at her and she gave me a what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you look as I passed by and went into the building. When I got to the office everybody was lined up at the windows and they told me that I had apparently walked through a movie set and that had been Demi Moore dressed as a prostitute (it was some movie with Kevin Costner playing a serial killer). They were all kind of outraged that I had interfered with the filming but I had the same attitude towards it that you did with Clooney. Like, why the fuck am I supposed to be happy about a film production interfering with my existence? I didn’t get any money out of the deal, and it wasn’t even a good movie.