By Lex July 24, 2014 @ 2:35 PM
Feminists are outraged that Terry Richardson has yet to be Arizona slow executed for the crime of being a super fucking creepy photographer who prays on young women. You know, unlike his fashion model shooting peers who just want to help young Czech teens with perfect bone structure and teen tits find fulfillment. Since nobody is bringing legal charges against Uncle Terry and his slap happy cock, feminists have turned to criticizing his work. Not for his obviously amateurish technical skills, but for its dagger in the heart of female self-worth and sexual objectification
‘[These images] depict women in sexually vulnerable, pornographic positions where a lot of the model’s facial expressions look like they’ve been drugged or they’re drunk. These images are predatory.’
Two fun loving unbiased female essayists thought it would be eye opening to take blatantly sexually objectifying commercial ads shot by Terry Richardson and morph in men’s faces and body parts instead of women’s. The resulting photographs would be so disturbing, they’d force you to see how a billion times infinity more disturbing the originals were. I can’t possibly fathom this connection. I just know the outcome is idiotic whether you’re a man, a woman, or a woman who secretly wishes she had a dick and therefore despises all who possess one.
Outside of some half-assed Photoshopping skills, what has your Women’s Studies summer project taught us? That men like porn? All of these advertisements shot by Uncle Terry are for women’s magazines or catalogs for women. Most of the editors of these magazines are women. The products themselves designed by women or gay men. In fact, all of Terry Richardson’s vocal supporters are women. I don’t doubt that a chick ball-gagged and bent over a couch in her panties is sexist. But for whom? The straight dudes in prison who can only get their hands on Vogue or Cosmo for spank material? Uncle Terry is your creation, ladies. If he ever does get busted, you’re the ones who need to go post his bail and take him home to sleep on your couch. He’s your secret shame.
(Maybe the shots he just took of porn girl Jessie Andrew below are for the guys. Or just his own closet of shameful deeds. I’m still not bailing him out when the time comes.)
Photo Credit: TakePart (above)/Terry Richardson (below)
By Lex July 24, 2014 @ 1:28 PM
Nicki Minaj new contribution to the musical lexicon of humanity is called Anaconda. It’s a snake. It’s also a cock. I’m pretty good at interpreting sexually suggestive metaphors. For instance, I’m looking at Nicki Minaj squatting on an imaginary anaconda in her thong and I interpret that to mean her music sucks. I also interpret that nobody gives a shit because look at that ass. Yes, it’s grotesque even post Photoshop, but there’s something genuinely appealing as well. It’s like chorizo. I know it’s pig entrails and lips, but it’s gotten hold of some part of me that wants to bend it over the sofa and let loose the dogs of war. Nicki Minaj’s ass I mean. I guess the chorizo too. I do love that horrific crap.
Photo Credit: Nicki Minaj/Instagram
By Lex July 24, 2014 @ 12:51 PM
According to the final inquest into the death of Peaches Geldof, the ridiculously polite British investigators determined that Peaches Geldof died of heroin overdose. Part of this finding was related to the heroin needle found in her lifeless hand, the heroin in the tin next to her bed, the heroin found stashed in every room of the house, the needles and burn spoons motif of the country home, her history of heroin addiction, and the giant sign over her front door which read, You’ll Take Away My Heroin When You Pry It From My Cold Dead Hands. Police also noted that Peaches kept heroin in a candy box on the nightstand, a practice highly recommended by pediatricians for the heroin addict with young children in the home.
You may recall that at the time of her death nobody in the proper press was willing to suggest that Peaches Geldof deceased herself with the needle. All that don’t rush to judgement nonsense that people who don’t like to think unpleasant thoughts like to chant. Perhaps she died of a fallen chandelier or fell bravely during an Afghani mission in the night and found her way home to Britain by morn. Nope. It turns out most heroin addicts die from heroin. I prefer to rush to judgement. Then I get there first.
By Matt July 24, 2014 @ 12:12 PM
Philip Seymour Hoffman’s character in his final leading role is a troubled alcoholic. Anton Corbijn directed Hoffman in A Most Wanted Man and said Hoffman was perfect for the part:
“He channeled part of the state he was in at the time into that character. They were more closely linked than, say, the character he played in ‘The Master’… It will always be harder to differentiate in this role between how people perceived him to be as a person and what he gave us on the film.”
This is what makes Hoffman one of the greatest actors of our generation. If you have a debilitating drug addiction, choose a film that allows you to stumble into work with pit stains and be heaped with critical praise for you performance. If you have picked up a two pack a day habit make sure your character smokes constantly. If he does not, have your agent get it written in. Hoffman never needed to get creepy skinny like Jonah Hill so he could play lame dudes with giant heads. Hoffman picked characters with the verge of death pallor. His honesty in self-reflection is what I will miss most.
Photo Credit: Getty Images
By Lex July 24, 2014 @ 11:40 AM
That body says hot European soccer wife. That smile says socialized medicine dentistry. It’s the teeth we’d all have if Sting and Danny Glover ruled the world in side by side Iron Thrones. That could happen. I’m buying a gun.
Photo Credit: Pacific Coast News
By Jack July 24, 2014 @ 11:31 AM
The trailer for Fifty Shades of Grey came out today. Suburban housewives everywhere are marking their calendars with their chubby moist fingers for Valentine’s Day 2015 when they will all assemble en masse to witness this softcore porn. I’d start investing in Good & Plenty stock now.
Get all hot and bothered by some douche in a suit. (AV Club)
Britney Spears has her own line of lingerie. Pretend it’s 2001 and you give a shit. (Drunken Stepfather)
Robin Thicke finally admits that his sham marriage is over. (Dlisted)
Conan O’Brien’s scene from Sharktopus vs. Pteracuda is pretty epic. (Gawker)
Ted Nugent calls his critics “Unclean Vermin”. Oh, Ted! (Fox News)
Bar Rafaeli hawking bras and panties? Yes, please! (COED)
Snoop Dogg said he smoked weed at the White House. Thanks a lot, Obama. (Huffington Post)
(Photo Via The Huffington Post)
By Lex July 24, 2014 @ 11:01 AM
Cameron Diaz has to suffer through lots of shit she wouldn’t have to if she was a man. People give her grief about not wanting kids. They criticize her body for being paunchy yet masculine. They question her choice of dating the less talented Madden brother who looks like the Sunday morning bouncer at a no-cover strip club. On the other hand, she has amassed a net worth of $90 million just by being a pretty model chick with a nice smile. Money doesn’t make things right, just better.
Photo Credit: Pacific Coast News
By Lex July 24, 2014 @ 10:21 AM
The difference between the loons and the drunks is always revealed at court dates. The loons still look fucking crazy heading into court. The lushes clean up nice for the judge. Shia LaBeouf looked pretty damn dapper as he faced the court to explain why he was harassing the homeless and disrupting an off-Broadway run of Cabaret last month. I’m sure he said something like, I was super fucking drunk, now I’m getting help, it’ll never happen again. The judge knows there’s a 98% likelihood that the help won’t hold, but we don’t white people with legal teams to prison, so expect 100 hours of Shia teaching school children how drinking doesn’t make you less of an asshole.
Photo Credit: Pacific Coast News