When the Stars died, they collectively woke up in an after-life that was the essence of Tinseltown.
Every night was the Oscars. They dressed up in their finery to arrive at the Hollywood bowl to hordes of screaming fans, and took turns receiving best Actor/Actress awards and Lifetime achievements. Then it was off to the parties where they partook of every flavor of orgiastic excess until dawn, in a mad celebration of themselves. And as the first rays of the sun broke over the hills, the Rich and Famous, would find themselves instantly transported back to their beds, hangover free; ready to repeat the process.
There was no work. No accomplishment. No meaning.
Just limos, paparazzi, feasts, drink, drugs, sex and a never ending, nightly party to celebrate who they once were.
After the first thirty or so years, the Beautiful People began to wonder if this was, in fact, heaven.
Eventually, though, they decided it was.