By Lex March 05, 2015 @ 3:26 PM
I’m not about to make old people shouldn’t be driving jokes. It’s not funny. They really shouldn’t be driving. Though it’s politically unreasonable to think that will ever change. So we should just round them up and make them eat in school cafeterias in Brentwood and Santa Barbara where all the non-immunized kids have rubella. Things will work themselves out.
Harrison Ford and his earring have been crashing his private small and vintage planes for a while now. His latest came an hour ago when he crashed his 2-seater fighter prop plane into the golf course that runs alongside the Santa Monica Airport. He missed it by this much. Harrison was reported to be alive though in need of seventeen Curads® and an Almond Joy for his munchies. Nobody on the ground was hurt, or they were, but they’re not famous, so it’s not super important. If you’re playing golf on a Thursday early afternoon, fuck you. You deserve a World War II era prop to the face. Engage hyperspace, Chewy. Chewy?
Photo credit: LucasFilm (maybe Disney now, I don’t know)
By Lex March 05, 2015 @ 1:54 PM
When people see an underdog like Curt Schilling taking on Goliath like JuCo rejects with used gum in their pockets, they get inspired. Kelly Clarkson stood up when a British celebrity-hating Tweeter ragged on her for looking zaftig on the Graham Norton show in the U.K.:
Jesus, what happened to Kelly Clarkson? Did she eat all of her backing singers? Happily I have wide-screen. #grahamnorton, Look chubsters, Kelly Clarkson had a baby a year ago. That is no longer baby weight. That is carrot cake weight. Get over yourselves.
Kelly Clarkson could no longer sit idle in a post-Gabby Schilling world. She summoned the courage of Pith himself and stepped into the breach:
She’s tweeted something nasty about me? That’s because she doesn’t know me. I’m awesome! It doesn’t bother me. It’s a free world. Say what you will.
Yeah, bitch, you just got some. Do people still say, you got served? Powned! At some point the remaining 1.3% of famous people who don’t already know this are going to realize that you can’t win a battle with the Internet. They’ll cure ass cancer before anyone figures out a successful strategy for combatting millions of people with millions of hours of free time and a whole lot of ego debt. Me included. I mean, I think I have ass cancer. Something hurts where it shouldn’t.
By Lex March 05, 2015 @ 12:36 PM
Any time Carmen Electra posts bikini pictures of herself, the media raves about how she looks as good as she did in her Baywatch days in the late 90′s. It’s a tacit reminder about how she hasn’t worked in seventeen years. I’d rather look shitty and have people talk about how I must look shitty because I’m working so hard. Which isn’t the reason, but with a few bucks to a PR firm it could be spun. Carmen Electra is trapped. Though trapped with nice tits isn’t so bad if you own a bath.
Photo Credit: Instagram
By Jack March 05, 2015 @ 12:00 PM
Chris Brown named his new bastard baby, Royalty. It’s a nice play on words given her regal breeding and the fact that she’ll someday be utilizing her bio dad’s music royalties to pay for her court ordered rehab. I’m holding back my puke until Chris Brown makes his first statement about the baby changing him for the better.
Read all about what this assclown was thinking. (TMZ)
Bras? We don’t need no stinking bras! (The Chive)
Erika Moreno topless will make your face explode. (Egotastic)
Kylie Jenner isn’t, like, materialistic. She’s, like, totally spiritual. (Huffington Post)
Amy Hood shows off her naked body and lovely bush. (Drunken Stepfather)
Anna Sophia Berglund shills pricey water in a white bikini. (Hollywood Tuna)
Jessica Lowndes knows how to sell her sexiness on Instagram. (Popoholic)
By Lex March 05, 2015 @ 11:49 AM
It’s probably time to get rid of the death penalty. I don’t care if you’re a sensitive soul against or the Son of Hammurabi who would tear down Death Row shotgunning inmates in their bunks, mixing the death penalty and the convoluted justice system and retired school teachers on juries just makes a fucking mess. The killers on life sentences usually end up getting brutally offed long before the death sentenced end up going peacefully to sleep. In the old days, they just shot people between the eyes. That was elegant. Arizona has toiled for seven years on this Jodi Arias chick who shot, stabbed, and nearly decapitated her FWB because the blue wire in her head shorted. The death sentence jury got repeatedly hung up on whether or not she was mentally ill. Fuck yeah, she’s mentally ill. Stable women don’t mince up their boyfriend in the shower for leaving the toilet seat up. They make snide comments and punish him silently for the next forty years. If this is where we’re at, it’s time to end this.
One of Jodi Arias victim’s sister said after the mistrial end of yet another sentencing jury, “the real justice will be in the afterlife, when Jodi burns in hell.” Let’s go with that. Arizona needs to save the cash for building stadiums in the middle of nowhere.
By Lex March 05, 2015 @ 11:14 AM
Here’s a plan for women who complain about being fat when getting older and having babies and aggressively overeating. Be like Jessica Simpson. Have Weight Watchers threaten to pull their multi-million dollar marketing deal. Rent a gym wall to wall, cover the windows with cardboard, and bring in two Brazilian trainers and an organic kefir fermenter to live on the premises. Take the next six months to two years off from work. Get fit. Work out a sweet new signature clothing line deal. Model. Airbrush. Be rich and happy. If you weren’t good looking before this process, I’m sure you can find an alternate plan.
Photo Credit: Jessica Simpson
By Lex March 05, 2015 @ 9:49 AM
If I was driving a fast moving train and the track was blocked and I had to choose to either veer left and run over my own mother or veer right and take out this Swedish chick, I’d take out this Swedish chick. You don’t run over your own mother. I’m not a mindless beast. Though I would still try to bang the Swedish chick afterward assuming she wasn’t in too many pieces. Fuck, I hope she’s not Curt Schilling’ niece. I’m probably already dead.
Photo Credit: Victoria’s Secret
By Lex March 05, 2015 @ 9:26 AM
Curt Schilling and his Death Wish against the losers who Tweeted nasty shit about his daughter continues unabated. Schilling already outed these nutwads and got them fired and expelled. Now he’s making mention of ruining them in court, knowing Special Forces combat soldiers who might send them a message, and considering fucking their house pets and setting the houses of every single member of their family out to third cousins on fire. It’s some real Keyser Soze shit. All because a few retarded Yankees fans and Schilling haters don’t understand where the funny ends and 140 character social media verbal assault begins.
Popular sentiment is behind Curt Schilling for the first time ever because he seems to be doing the right thing. He was, maybe, now he’s just an asshole who needs to sit down and admit his own role in this shit parade. Twitter is the rank strip club near the airport. There’s the owner who makes the money, the dancing Hilton and Kardashian whores who skim cash, and a mass of anonymous hard luck cases who find themselves drawn routinely to rank whore houses. Strip club protocol is pretty clear. You get loaded, waste every cent you have with the false promise of stripper sex, scream some obscenities on the way out, and then lie to your loved ones and yourself about your disgraceful behavior. If you want to clink the glass in that cess pool and congratulate your teen daughter, expect that some turd is going to stand up and ask how much to finger bang her in the Champagne Room. Especially if most everybody in the club already dislikes you.
You don’t have to congratulate your daughter on Twitter. Michael Jackson advised us all to start with the man in the mirror. Especially when that man happens to be rubbing a young McCauley Caulkin’s nipples and cooing in falsetto. If Schilling wants to activate his passions, maybe he should tell parents to get the fuck off Twitter and take their daughters out to Baskin-Robbins for a double scoop like parents did before they sought post-limelight ego validation on social media. Punch those twats in the nose and move the fuck on.