Folks, I'm sure you were all shocked and stunned by the most devastating development so far this year: the split between Ben "Gigli" Affleck and Jennifer "Gigli" Lopez.  Truly no other world event can compare to the awesome direness that this suggests for our very existence, when not even the most-hyped celebrity couple can survive with their pure love intact.  I can hear you all saying "why, God? Why?"

First off, God had nothing to do with it.  It was all me.  Yes, that's right, I'm claiming credit (or blame) for the fall of the once mighty "Bennifer" empire, ruined on the shores of my personal interference.  But I didn't do so malevolently, my friends; it was all a series of horrible mistakes.

Back when I first learned the news that Ben and Jen were a couple, I was hanging out at the Hollywood Hilton's bar when my buddy Ben came by to share the joy.  Yes, that's right, I'm friends with Ben Affleck.  What, you don't believe me?  Yes, I have pictures of us together (nothing racy, for those pervs in the audience), but I choose not to put them here because that's an invasion of my privacy...

Anyway, Ben and I were working our way through some Rum and Cokes, laughing and remembering the good times of growing up in Boston as math geeks who worked as janitors by day, when this really hot girl came in and starting making eyes at me.  I should divulge at this point that I'm not exactly a hit with the ladies, what with my oozing sores and humpback, but I can pull tail pretty easily when I put my mind to it.  But this girl was far too stunning to really be looking at me, right?  It couldn't hurt that, right beside me, was Ben Affleck, of "Mallrats" fame, the hunkiest bachelor (well, ex-bachelor) in Hollywood.  She kept looking over, real come-hither-like, but I was too shy.  Ben was all like "Dude, go tap that!" but I couldn't get up the nerve.  So Ben walked over and rammed his tongue down her throat, which made the tabloids a day later and almost cost the world the sight of seeing J. Lo and B. Aff together.  It worked out for the best, however: after the paparazzi took his photo, the girl kicked Ben in the nuts and came to sit next to me.  I told Ben, "You win some, you lose some, and then you learn the facts of life."

Well, Jenny from the Block was mucho upseto over Gentle Ben's little tongue-playing, but they were able to work through their problems by letting Ben costar in her music video (you know, the one about being "Jenny from the Block," which is total bullshit by the way.  She's from a very well-off family from Tarrytown), and all was well... until I took Ben gambling.

Everyone knows now that Ben ran up a huge debt gambling at various casinos in the Greater Metropolitan Area of Las Vegas, but what they don't know is that he was trying to get enough money to pay for the 14 trillion dollar engagement ring that Jen had "stumbled upon" at a local thrift store.  The ring, by the way, was emblazoned with the name "Roy" and had a few marks (which looked like some animal's teeth had left them), which made it worth a kajillion pounds in terms of British money.  So Ben had his work cut out for him, naturally, and I wasn't much help constantly yelling "Bingo!" or "You sunk my battleship!"  Ben didn't care much for that.

We did go to some strip clubs, but the media had totally misinterpreted the nature of our visit.  Ben converted to the Catholic faith last year, and he was always keen to do mission work in the field.  We old chums of his (me, Matt Damon, and Emo Philips) all razzed him about "Jesus" and "the Pope," but he was serious, and our trip to the Lazy 'I' Strip Club out by the airport was simply a chance for him to "lead more sinners to the Lord."  I thought he was bullshitting, but I never pass up the chance for a good lapdance.  Which is what happened, as you may have heard, but don't go jumping off to conclusions just yet: we were told that, to minister to the girls in a one-on-one basis, we had to pay for a lapdance and for any alcohol we might need to "show the way to eternal salvation."

Matt called it an early night (it was 4:30 in the afternoon) and Emo locked himself in the bathroom (I don't need to tell you how many times that's happened to poor Emo!), so it was just Ben and me.  I really should've told him we needed to leave before the paparazzi arrived, but he said, "No, it is the will of the Lord that this festively-painted young lady should simulate sexual acts upon my person."  Faced with such logic, I threw all caution out to the wind and said, "His will be done."

The next morning, of course, those bastards from CNN, Fox News, and Tiger Beat were all outside our hotel room (Matt and Ben wouldn't cop up to the fifty grand for a single room, so we all had to bunk together in the mop closet) asking Ben about his "rampant gambling" and "carousing with strippers", and J. Lo informed Ben that he was "on the down low" as far as receiving any pity from her.  I felt terrible, it had been my idea to go to Vegas in the first place.  So I decided that, gosh, these two swell kids didn't deserve this kind of crap, they should be married in holy matrimony.  Ben could continue his mission work to the cesspool that is Miramax, and J. Lo could continue being shielded from bullets by P. Diddy's bodyguards.

Obviously, I've skipped over the penultimate event in the Bennifer saga: the "wedding" planned for early September.  There's nothing scandalous about this, though.  Jenny broke a nail, and was too distraught to even consider walking down the aisle until all was well with the universe again.  If you were looking for more salacious details, I can't offer anything more than the truth.

So back to the present, specifically the week of New Year's Eve: I arranged an intimate ceremony for the soon-to-be-wed couple at the Little Chapel of Love in Vegas, scene of so many great weddings in the past (like all three times Richard Burton and Liz Taylor got married, with poor Roddy McDowell always the bridesmaid).  It was going to be the story of the new year, because that's really what it was all about: starting the year off right.  Ben and Jen would be the celebrity wedding for 2004.

Imagine our surprise when that bitch Britney "I'm So 15 Minutes Ago" Spears got in line and kept our party waiting outside a full five minutes so she could "pretend" to marry an old buddy, Seinfeld's Jason Alexander!  In the time it took those impostors to say "I do" while no doubt drunk off tequila, the fragile love of two beautiful people could not survive.  Ben, arguing that God was calling him to the craps table of the nearest casino, was out the door and followed in close succession by the best man, the bridesmaids, the fire-eater, the Elvis impersonator, Siegfried, Harvey Weinstein (clutching the free buffet to his side), the singer who was supposed to perform "Endless Love" and her mini-keyboard accompanist, the lion tamer, the lion, and some Japanese tourists who flashed away with their cameras, capturing the grief and heartbreak on Jenny's face.

I suppose I could tell you the nature of their relationship at this stage, but I honestly don't know.  The kids have been through a lot this year.  They deserve some privacy at least until "Jersey Girl" comes out.  I do know that Ben has gone through his entire salaries for "Reindeer Games" and "The Sum of All Fears" on subsequent trips to Vegas, and barely has $20 grand to get by each week.  J. Lo is on the down low, somehow making it through while having to show up for such prestigious events as the Golden Globes and the Firestone "Store of the Year" Awards.  As for me, I fear I've been at the center of this story too long, and it's time I looked for a Bennifer of my own.  I can't promise that J. Lo and B. Aff will ever reform for the awesome combination that is "Bennifer," but if we all believe in it their love will never truly die.  Perhaps God will lead Ben away from the waiting arms of a stripper and back to the genuine love of Jenny from the Block after all.  We can only pray...

- Trevor