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In Photoshopping some formerly innocent photos of a recent Matthew McConaughey beach workout into an impressive display of clone-enabled auto-erotcism, the Velvet Hot Tub revisits a truly inspired idea clumsily explored in last year's flop The Island. But instead of cloning oneself merely for spare parts to be used in a medical emergency, why shouldn't a celebrity have an exact replica of himself for the purpose of sexual gratification? Mark our words: This is going to be the cutting edge in Hollywood narcissism sooner than any of us would think possible. Somewhere in a sub-basement of Cedars Sinai, geneticists are hunched over Petri dishes containing McConaughey and Pitt DNA, nearly ready to usher in the future.