It’s hard to imagine thinking Justin Bieber is more of a douche nugget than before, but watching this compilation of his Judd Nelson in Breakfast Club canned disaffection during a civil deposition elevates this Lollipop Guild thuglifer to an entirely new level of imp status. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that he’s high or that he’s trying to imitate how he thinks a tough guy acts when being questioned, but we need to arrange for some of those kindergarten tykes in Krav Maga to hammer strike him to the nads until he’s back across the border in Canada.
If you’re like me, you’re thinking, boy, I wish there was a way I could combine my admiration of all things Paris Hilton with my passion for the luxury lifestyle represented by the island nation of the Philippines. Well, hello Paris Beach Club, attached to a new upscale residential living complex in one of the fine burghs of the Philippines:
“We wanted to provide our Azure residents the ultimate beach resort experience. Paris, with her exposure to the world’s best beach destinations, had shared very valuable inputs to achieve this objective. She helped us choose the material and color palettes for the project, and had compiled her style inspirations into a book for us. Now, we have a truly world-class beach club for the residents of our Azure development.” — some real estate developer bullshitter.
It’s true. Nobody knows the beach resorts around the world that people with money flock to be as far away from the Philippines as possible quite like Paris Hilton. I can only imagine how rich and robust that style book was. I like blue, and I like green, and it should be shiny… this check is in American dollars, right? Some of Paris personal touches can be found in the beach lounge chairs that give you HSV2 if you’re not wearing proper undergarments and the Typhoon Paris attraction where every evening at 11:11 the wave pool cranks up the horsepower and creates a series of tsunamis that devastate the property and sweep sleeping children away into the sea. Looking back on the tragedy at the Paris Beach Club, nobody will say they didn’t see it coming.
The E! Channel has arranged for Khloe Kardashian to guest host their canned laugh track gay squeezer Chelsea Lately while Chelsea Handler is on her BBC adventure staycation. Khloe makes perfect sense as she’s both been fired from her remedial X-Factor teleprompter reading gig and helped co-host her mother’s talk show which crashed and burned miserably in its first run. Still, networks love synergy between their shows, which is shorthand for Khloe costs nothing since she’s already paid to be the troubled fat one on KUWTK. To celebrate the great news that she’d not really earned another job on television, Khloe posted her first ever Vine video. The quick clip shows her body being rubbed down with self-tanner so her tits will glow on television. There’s really no light brighter than the twinkle in the eye of a mildly-retarded girl when she’s told to take off her top for the cameras. I just hope OJ gets to see this before he passes.
Photo Credit: Khloe Kardashian/Vine
In the first full trailer for Queen Oprah’s ultimate spin machine ‘docu-series’, Lindsay, the former talk show host and current network head learns what everyone already knew about Lindsay Lohan – that she’s a spoiled, misguided, arrogant has-been. But Oprah thinks that the actress deserves yet another chance, because there’s a huge chunk of the public that loves watching a former child star continuously trip over her own stupid errors and blow every last opportunity that she receives. In addition to watching Dina Lohan pretend that she’s mom of the year while Michael Lohan takes the direct blame, Lindsay’s sober coach tells the camera that she’s still not sober, so Oprah has to board her chariot and take matters into her own hands to tell Lindsay to knock her spoiled baby bullshit off. Honestly, it looks pretty decent.
Decades from now when you’re walking through a dystopian landscape not unlike those visualized in seventeen blockbuster movies a year, don’t forget to tell the young street urchins surviving on old people’s feet jerky where this tide of tragedy all began. An epic communicable disease spread like wildfire from one Bangerz tour stop to the next, through contrived lesbian kisses between Miley Cyrus and some completely random girl in the Las Vegas audience that security knew to let rush the stage. That single cell organism transferred from the gaping maw of Hannah Montana fifty dicks later is right now reproducing at apocalyptic rates inside the breach of this niece of somebody who knew somebody in Miley’s camp. The crowd of Fudgsicle brained adolescents oohing over the girl on girl kiss won’t be so charmed when office towers start spontaneously combusting from the sheer ferocity of flesh eater rampages. The survivors will envy the dead and Wayne Newton will sue Miley for ripping his tired Vegas shtick. Teach that to the young remnants of human kind. Remember your history.
Photo Credit: Splash, FameFlynet
Let’s concede the fact that Congressmen as a group are a swollen zit of incompetence, alcohol abuse, and petty ambition. Even the well-meaning Mr. Smiths quickly get assimilated into the polished turd of big dollar democracy. Largely a group of self-serving assholes. But even assholes don’t deserve a lecture from Seth Rogen on the importance of sitting through his presentation. Seth was in the capital city on behalf of an Alzheimer’s charity to give a pointed speech about how his mother-in-law thinks her shoes belong on her nose, thanks to early onset of the disease. It was perhaps the most entertaining several televised minutes in Washington since Mayor Berry got caught scoring the rock on camera. But, you don’t invite a Hollywood comedic actor to a Senate Committee for the deep science explanations. This isn’t a Roland Emmerich disaster pic.
After the fact, Seth got all pissy that most of the Senators came to snap their photo with him then either dozed off or didn’t stick around to hear the speech:
Two of them were falling asleep during the first part of the testimony, literally. I saw it happening, I think it is indicative of the mentality that we find so frustrating is that it seems to be low priority. It seems like these people don’t care. That’s the direct message they are giving by leaving during the testimony, is that they don’t care.
Okay, first, grow up. The percentage of people in this country who think that Congress cares about them is down to 12%. That’s the same percentage who believe Elvis is living in a basement prison deep beneath the Las Vegas strip. Don’t play the rube for sympathy points. Second, these same comb-overs voted to spend $350 billion this past year on non-Medicare related health spending. If money is how people in Washington show they care, and it is, they do care. Or they’re pretending to care so they don’t have to find real jobs. Same difference. Maybe cancer and The AIDS and finding a cure for the Hilton sisters blisters is given more money than Alzheimer’s. I don’t know. And maybe more money should be spent on Alzheimer’s, it’s pretty fucking horrid. But these geezers dozing and walking out on the hearing aren’t going to decrease the level of funding for Alzheimer’s research, in fact, this big media storm might just cause research funding to increase. But, then, you knew that, didn’t you, Seth Rogen?
Two men were arrested in Herkimer, NY for covering themselves in Jell-O and videotaping themselves fucking cows. Apparently, Reid Fontaine and Michael Jones had been calling on the slutty cows on the Herkimer dairy farm for a while. The farmer was concerned that his cows had stopped producing milk and he decided to set up a camera to find out why. Little did he know that two guys were making love to his cows for some cattle diddling fetish website. The assaulted heifer ran off into the street and was struck by a car. I guess it just couldn’t live with the trauma. The farmer called the cops and the local news station arrived and caught the guy in the act. The two men were arrested and are charged with criminal misconduct, animal abuse, and acting like a couple of NBA players. The reporter said,
“Now when we arrived, one of the men was actively having sex with the cow. His friend who was videotaping the act took off as soon as he seen us arrive. Now we can’t show you that video because the man was naked and covered in Jell-O, however we can show you the video of the aftermath.”
I like to think of myself as a modern man when it comes to sex. Meaning, I’ll do pretty much anything a hot girl asks me to do. But, so far, watching bestiality while getting it on hasn’t come up yet. Is there some secret underground market there for Jell-O coated cow fucking fetish videos? If so, shouldn’t that progressive Duke Freshman be seeking to unionize Guernseys in the adult sex business? Do you see how confusing nasty sex can be? I’m sure this news story will get much tighter when Dick Wolf pretends it’s not the basis for his next episode of Law & Order: SVU.
Robin Thicke is trying everything he can think of to get Paula Patton to take him back. He’s apparently sending thousands of dollars worth of flowers to her house because he saw that work in a movie once. I think it was Pretty Woman and she was a whore. He’s also now moping on stage during his concerts, hoping the obese suburban moms that comprise his audience will form a tubby coven and conjure his woman back to him. We told you about how the rift between the sexiest couple to come out of Canada since Terence and Philip began when Miley Cyrus dry humped Robin on stage at the VMAs. What his desperation tells me is that he did more than shtick with Miley to get kicked out of the house. Maybe a better approach is to play it cool instead of looking like a desperate d-bag. Women can smell weakness and desperation, especially a woman like Paula Patton who has plenty of options. Next batch of flowers, include a note, ‘Hey, Candy, I just checked my dick, your ass is officially 98.6 degrees. Then let Paula take in the Grand Canyon of a loss she’s just suffered. I’ve got lots of great ideas like that.
There’s nothing worse than a literate porn star. These girls who are smart enough to get into elite private colleges but still taking dongs up their ass for cash just like to talk way too much. Daddy didn’t hurt them and they don’t have meth addictions, they’re just super fucking weird and troubled girls hiding behind their Wonder Woman shields of feminism. This freshman chick whose name everybody on the Duke campus knows by now, but who we’ll call by her porn name, Belle Knox, says she finds being the cum dumpster in even rough sex porn to be empowering to her as a woman:
I can say definitively that I have never felt more empowered or happy doing anything else. In a world where women are so often robbed of their choice, I am completely in control of my sexuality. As a bisexual woman with many sexual quirks, I feel completely accepted. It is freeing, it is empowering, it is wonderful, it is how the world should be.
Yeah, most wonderfully liberated and empowered people hide behind an alias and freak the fuck out when they’re discovered.
For me, shooting pornography brings me unimaginable joy. When I finish a scene, I know that I have done so and completed an honest day’s work. It is my artistic outlet: my love, my happiness, my home.
I will give you that. It is honest work. It’s not like my college lifeguarding job where I mostly napped and smoked weed and prayed nobody would ever yell ‘lifeguard! because I wasn’t all that strong of a swimmer. Naturally, Belle wants to be a human rights lawyer and fight on behalf of sex workers everywhere. And therein lies the difference between a state school girl and a private college girl. The former would just say she needed the money and tell everybody to shut the fuck up. The latter has to frame herself as the Norma Rae of ass-to-mouth.
When I think of all the recently outed brave lesbians like Ellen Page and Jason Collins, I shudder to think how diminished they must feel to see pop music stars using lesbian sexuality for pure spectacle value. Phil Robertson believes the bible tells him that sodomy is sinful. He’s guileless in his beliefs. He’s not using the ‘gay thing’ to rake in cash. He kills ducks. Miley Cyrus planted a big kiss on Katy Perry in the audience of her geek show at Staples Center in the latest episode of really cynical gay exploitation. Though you do have to admire Miley Cyrus’ ability to keep singing even when she lowered the microphone and kissed Katy Perry. That’s a neat trick. It’s become a common sight to see pop music stars wiggling their tongues between their V-fingers, grabbing each other’s tits in public, and making all sorts of Sapphic suggestiveness. But these girls aren’t gay. They weren’t born that way. They’re not going to face non-existent discrimination in Hollywood. Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry and their ilk are cynically using the serious issue of females born to bump clams to shock the public and sell more tickets. That’s just vile. Unless both the girls are super hot. Then it’s fucking amazing. But that’s the exception.
Pamela Anderson will do anything to make life better for our animal friends. Now that she’s chopped off her hair and reduced the size of her tits, removing two of her two most popular features, she can focus more thoroughly on her profound causes. Like saving critters from the horrors of their assigned place in the ecosystem. To help promote her cause, Pam made a Valentine’s video that strongly suggests she’s having sex with her dog. I could be reading into it, but I’m pretty sure Monsieur Brando is about to get his doggy dick into a little Canadian trim. I don’t know if Pam’s new husband, the unemployed poker player who banged Paris Hilton in her sex tape, is going to approve. He seems pretty traditional. But it’s all for a righteous cause. Save the lab rats. By fucking dogs. I get it. Good on you, Pam Anderson.
Because his daughter thinks that she’s the biggest, boldest pop star in the world all because she’s ripping off other edgy female performers left and right, Billy Ray Cyrus decided that it’s time for him to be a music star again. If you recall, Miley’s dad was a one hit wonder like no other in the 1990s, thanks to the horrific pop country ear diarrhea “Achy Breaky Heart.” Billy recently claimed that he planned to update his only song that ever reached mainstream success with a rap rendition, and we all hoped that he was full of shit, because nobody wants to hear that. Sure enough, he teamed up with some rapper named Buck 22 and not only recorded and produced a video for “Achy Breaky 2,” but it’s far and away the worst song and video that you’ll torture yourself with this year.
KTLA reporter Sam Rubin can’t tell Samuel L. Jackson and Lawrence Fishburne apart. You know, because they are both older black dude actors. It all began when Rubin conducted a remote interview with Jackson about his latest crappy paycheck movie, Robocop. Rubin asked Jackson about public reaction to his Super Bowl commercial. Of course, Jackson didn’t have a super bowl commercial. Rubin was referring to the KIA ad in which Lawrence Fishburne reprized his role as Morpheus from the Matrix movies. Jackson then went on an epic rant that, which surprisingly, didn’t contain the word motherfucker. Jackson said,
I’m not Laurence Fishburne. We don’t all look alike. We may be all black and famous, but we all don’t look alike. You’re busted…There’s more than one black guy doing a commercial. I’m the ‘What’s in your wallet?’ black guy. Morgan Freeman is the other credit card black guy. You only hear his voice though so you probably won’t confuse him with Laurence Fishburne. You’re the entertainment reporter for this station? And you don’t know the difference between me and Laurence Fishburne? There must be a very short line for your job.
I often mix up actors. Bill Paxton and Bill Pullman are the same fucking person as far as I’m concerned. Everybody named Dermott or Dylan in Hollywood is the same fucking person. But that’s because they have similar names and make really fucking shitty movies. Not because they’re all pasty white dudes who couldn’t play sports. A simple Google search would have told this morning news show teleprompter reader that Lawrence Fishburne was Morpheus. Rubin apologized but the damage was done. Among the two black people who have ever watched him on television, expect one to drop out.
Video clip: NBC, all rights reserved
Those tricky Russians didn’t lose the Cold War 55-0 without having a serious bit of strategery on their side. After a long con about how they don’t like the gays and they don’t want the gays talking to kids and how Moscow does not believe in queer tears, those cagey bastards open up their Winter Olympics with just about the gayest thing ever — a bunch of police officers singing Daft Punk. Militant Muslims laid down their toothpaste bombs and several hardened street dogs gave themselves up for euthanizing when they heard Get Lucky emanating from the Olympic arena constructed entirely out of toothpicks and peas. What a fucking Olympic moment. Greeks of yore ceased their sodomy in heaven to hear the discotheque tones and witness grumpy Russian mustaches trying to force smiles. Just to double down on the Russian-ness of the entire scene, the Olympic organizers illegally downloaded the song from a torrent site then informed everybody in the audience that their Paypal accounts had to be reactivated by following a link on the browsers located in their seatbacks.
Vin Diesel just fired a shot of crazy across Tyrese’s bow in their competition as to who is more emotionally wrecked by the death of Paul Walker. Tyrese has circled the globe filming himself choking up as he looks at different shit that reminds him of Paul. Tyrese even used the sacred Grammy stage over the past weekend to give a heartfelt salute to Paul Walker supporters. That’s some mourning game right there. Both men have been working Twitter and personal appearances to rapid-fire their emotionally wrecked eulogies. It’s been neck and neck. But Vin just went nuclear, with the fucked up seven minute long Katy Perry and Beyonce webcam sing and dance along he posted to his inexplicably popular Facebook account. It’s not that you don’t often see a 46-year old man grabbing his junk and lip-synching to Beyonce half-dressed in his room, it’s just that when you do, it’s typically an exhibit in a criminal case against an online predator. I’m not legally allowed to say Vin is high as fuck, so I won’t. He does look like a dancing cotton ball who is surprised to see his lips moving when he’s speaking. Maybe Vin really did love Paul Walker more than Tyrese? Unless you got something more fucked up than this, Tyrese, maybe cut off a limb with a jigsaw or do some Turk 182 shit on the side of the Porsche factory in Stuttgart, time to step down.
Neither of these two dudes could really match the raw fucked up mourning power of Tila Tequila when she lost the lesbian heiress she thought was going to gay marry her during Christmas ’09.
Video credit: above (Vin Diesel Facebok), below (Satan).
When you see French dudes in Buck Rogers villain masks, you’re typically about to be sodomized to the scent of stale cigarettes and licorice. So consider last night’s Grammy’s to be less painful than expected. Sobering up from this morning’s vitriol, I’m thinking now about Metallica playing with that Asian Van Cliburn dude, getting to see Madonna one more time before she dies, the look in Taylor Swift’s eyes revealing that she’ll never be truly happy. There were good moments. Add to that the shit that didn’t happen because certain noteworthy attention whores declined to even show up at all. Miley Cyrus. Her visionary musical abortion Bangerz was released past the artificial deadline the Grammys use to ensure the latest hot music is never heard at the event. Miley stayed home and played Guitar hero and tried to score enough points to earn a real woman’s body. Kanye West didn’t show up since his Yeezus album didn’t get nominated for being the best thing ever invented. Lady Gaga didn’t get nominated at all, so she didn’t bother her make-up artists with the sixteen hours it takes to make her look less like a fruit bat. Rihanna actually won an award of some kind, but she decided to spend the evening blowing smoke rings onboard a boat owned by somebody rich who once fingered her while she kept her tears on the inside. This is like one of those children’s books learning about how relatively speaking, shit could’ve been much worse, so be thankful. I am. Thank you, Grammy Jesus.
I guess Malin Akerman has a sister because she’s drinking beers and showing off her crotch a lot in this very foreign looking video from Galore, which is a magazine that sounds a lot like a strip club. I can’t tell if the music is off intentionally, or if that’s done to make it seem more foreign and important as cheap audio often is. I don’t care. I just like looking at the crotch of a girl whose sister I think is pretty hot. Does that make me a monster? Probably.
Photo Credit: Galore
Kim Kardashian made a splash on Jimmy Kimmel last night, mostly to show the advancements in girdle technology that allow her to look less like a chattering crocus bulb. Being a talk show, Kim had to rehearse some spoken words beyond just ‘Kanye, go kill him!’ and ‘I get five dollars to make you holler, Mister”. So she played sympathetic sister, speaking of how badly broken Khloe Kardashian was by discovering that the man she knew for nearly four hours before marriage was secretly a crack smoking whoremonger with mental health issues. Kim insisted that despite what you saw on the show, Khloe never really wanted to make a baby with Lamar because she knew he was troubled. So, all those sympathetic condolences from her family on her lack of pregnancy, and those trips to the fertility clinics, Khloe actually skipped those. Well don’t I feel pretty fucking stupid for sobbing along with Khloe’s barren womb all these years. I don’t know what to believe anymore.
When people hate you in America, you go to England. Madonna went. So did Gwyneth Paltrow. I think Nixon went there, though I could be thinking of China. Shia LaBeouf went to London, got drunk, and picked a fight with a dude who made fun of Shia’s girlfriend’s mother. That seems pretty damn obscure if you think about all the nasty things you’d want to say to Shia LaBeouf if you were drunk in a bar.
What are you saying about my girl’s mom? Are you f**king kidding me bro?
TMZ is calling it a brawl, which is an interesting choice of hyperboles given that nobody actually even threw a punch. It’s mostly just Shia acting like a tough guy he once saw in a movie. I think at one point Shia called Bumblebee for help, but even Bumblebee thinks he’s an asswipe and was low on petrol to boot. It’s just Shia against the world. This badass wouldn’t have it any other way.
Michael Bay fell to pieces on stage at a Samsung press conference in Vegas yesterday. The director of cinematic classic like Armageddon and Transformers was brought on to talk about Samsung’s new ultra high definition TVs. Because, you know, he doesn’t have enough fucking money that he needs to shill consumer electronics to sweaty fat Americans. The hissy fit happened when his teleprompter began to malfunction during his truly from the heart remarks. He paced around in a circle muttering that he was just going to wing it and eventually just walked off stage and left the presenter in the lurch. The audience broke into applause when they realized that’s all it took to rid themselves of Michael Bay.
Imagine you’re in Vegas with the kids and you all hit the balcony section at the Britney Spears show. There you are, breaking it down to Britney’s epic dance hits, weeping to her tender ballads, when you spot Miley Cyrus and her scoliosis shoulders craning in to make out with Britney’s dancer chicks. How do you explain that shit to the little ones? They’ve never seen Ellen in a vest suit or had cause to ask why Hilary Clinton and Anthony Weiner’s wife travel the globe together while inexplicably forgiving their husband’s philandering. There’s spastic Hannah Montana making out with a girl who gets paid to twirl and emergency sew Britney’s bursted seams back together onstage. What the hell is happening to this country? Boys need to be introduced to lesbianism watching fake tit-on-tit sex on late night cable. That’s how they learn to appreciate lesbian love and beg their future girlfriends to get it on with their housemates. The boy who spotted this shit is going to go back and tell his little buddies that he saw two chicks making out and it was gross. He’s probably going to get labeled a pussy and get himself a solid beatdown. I hope he sues Miley Cyrus from his little kid hospital bed.
I don’t get it. Britney Spears descends from the rafters looking like Prince Fielder trying to fit into last year’s jersey, lip-synchs some of her hit songs, and walks Mario Lopez around on a leash, then collects $20 million? Jesus, Britney, what do you get when you gobble down sweets? She couldn’t hit the elliptical for a couple weeks before opening night? It didn’t matter to the screaming planted fans like drunk Miley Cyrus who went batshit crazy in the front row. I guess the sight of ass-fat and constrictive girdles triggers spasms in Miley’s frontal lobe where God intended her learning to be.
It’s hard to imagine this goes on for two more years. At some point, they’re going to have to lower the stage because even fifteen feet above sea level might be the oxygen balance breaker for Britney. Maybe you get a free spin at roulette if you’re there the night Britney has her first cardiac incident. Somebody’s getting buried in the desert over this. If it’s Britney, they better bring the Caterpillar.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet
While a lot of girls who are famous because they shook their asses in rap videos probably had quaint Christmas dinners with their proud families, Vida Guerra was still too busy thinking of her fans to stop working on the holiday. To show her appreciation for all the people who still pay attention to a 39-year old woman with a large ass, Vida wore her sexiest Santa’s helper outfit and twerked around her Christmas tree. Moments later, Santa would come down the Christmas tree and shout, “Ho! Ho! Ho!” before adding that he was simply passing through.
Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart famously said about porn, ‘I know it when I see it’. And he only had some dirty black and white hair pulling magazines for his foundation. I’m guessing that in 2013 I see more porn on a daily basis than ole Potter saw in his lifetime. I know it when I see it. This new Miley Cyrus teaser bits for her new music video ‘Adore You’ is porn. There’s just a bit of nipple and Miley sticking her hand in her underpants, but with the music and the shots and the cut back to her twink boy face, this is precisely the kind of amateur shit they keep finding on school principal’s computers. The video will premiere in its entirety on December 26th, just in time to make the newborn baby Jesus cry.
(video via Instagram)