Superbly uninteresting piglet Jaime King finally shitted out her kid. King apparently believed the entire country was obsessively counting down to this moment and her husband showed her a taped Times Square ball dropping from the millennium celebration and then called her pretending to be Barack Obama offering congratulations. She believed him because she’s a retarded egomaniac who thinks she’s the only person to ever become pregant. It seemed for a minute the incessant distended belly lingerie pics would halt on Instagram but King didn’t skip a beat and is moving right into the breastfeeding pics because their stringent community standards didn’t allow a live feed of the birth or any subsequent vagina pics. King has no job to speak of, with bullet point number one on her resume being she’s friends with Taylor Swift. Outside of that she’s capable of talking shit about bottled water and bleaching her anus with organic peroxide. King will no doubt document her feeding of the child to a chorus of online applause and god willing an instructional video. No word how the couple pays their rent. I don’t often use the term hero. Cunt much more often.
Remember when so-and-so died and then we all wished somebody had recorded his collective wisdom before he vanished? I’m not letting that happen with Kylie Jenner. Don’t believe the glossy tit bunny on parade public persona. This seventeen year old self-educated author and marketing savant is working her deep thoughts on the down low. You have to dive into her late night snapchats to get a true sense of Ayn Rand meets Emily Dickinson meets the escort who fucked Elliot Spitzer then turned in his bad check because whores think poorly. Get your shine on girl. The sperm bucket moniker isn’t a weight, it’s a catapult.
The senior editorial staff at Gawker and up to five ringer commenters quit over the weekend because The Man made them take down an article about how a Conde Nast executive was being extorted by a male hooker. Numerous Gawker advertisers had threatened to pull media spends because they felt the article was nothing more than outing some poor schlub for no newsworthy reason. Also, they realized that Gawker was going to ruin everybody’s Craigslist Casual Encounter assplay fun if they weren’t put in check.
The Gawker editors re-watched all three seasons of The Newsroom over daiquiris and decided to resign their positions because they believed the firewall between business and editorial had been breached. The firewall that only children and journalism majors believe exists. Naturally, they wrote lots of very important emails back and forth about all of this and published all of their emails on Gawker itself because that’s what Braveheart would have done in 2015 if he gathered his berserker Highlanders at Soul Cycle for strategy sessions.
There aren’t many businesses where the owners tell any employees they have complete freedom to fuck over the business anyway they want. There aren’t any. Reputations don’t keep the lights on. Start your own blog. They’re free on WordPress. Fuck, this one runs on Subway sandwich coupons. Then you can get random gay tricks to feed you naughty sex stories about anybody with half a name in Manhattan and pretend it’s news. TMZ just passed you on the integrity scale. Congratulations. Monsanto corporate spokesman is looming right behind you.
It is now a proven fact that watching more online porn makes you more interested in sex with your partner rather than less interested as feminists have long claimed. In short, the more you rev your engines the more tracks you need to burn. Jizz is not a fixed pie.
Read all about how online porn can help your relationship. (Egotastic)
Affair hook-up site Ashley Madison hacked. Cheaters are in trouble. (TMZ)
Rihanna has entered her wandering around in her PJs cracked out phase. (Drunken Stepfather)
Combining her two super powers of memorizing the street address of every single abortion clinic in Manhattan and making tranny Rican street walkers in the Bronx feel good about their looks, Lena Dunham is launching a website in September called Lenny. The site is named after her vibrator that Jesus gave legs to escape when he learned of the toy’s ungodly fate. In the vein of Gwyneth Paltrow’s cult of personality Goop site, Lenny will be a must visit for millennial women determined to be shitty girlfriends and wives and ultimately super alone:
The website will be about keeping abortion safe and legal, keeping birth control in your pocket, and getting the right people elected, all while wearing extremely fierce jumpsuits.
Goop lies to you and tells you you can be healthy and pretty. All Lenny can promise is that you’ll look and smell better than Lena after she barrels out of the Golden Corral drunk on ribs. My Planned Parenthood app already keeps my nearest abortion options pinging on my Google maps and I have no desire to dress like the working girl who slept through the evacuation alarms at Chernobyl. Lena Dunham isn’t going away. She’s just going to appeal stronger and stronger to an ever shrinking audience of the world’s most annoying people. She’s the Insane Clown Posse of the Upper West Side.
Demi Moore was shocked by the death of a 21-year old man in her pool over the weekend. This kind of thing only happens every now and then at Moore’s house so she’s still not quite used to it. Publicists for the family are quick to point out that while Demi and her three unemployed adult daughters routinely throw late night cinnamon challenges at the Beverly Hills home, they were all out of town this weekend pretending to do shit and the house was in the hands of the caretaker. Caretaker being the agreed upon W-2 title for the young female Moore family connect who often bunks out at the house.
The caretaker, who by definition failed, is claiming limited alcohol was served at the party. Or, more precisely, just enough to get a guy who had no idea how to swim to tip into a pool and drown without anybody else noticing. Everybody is wondering how Demi Moore will respond in regard to her house. Will she sell it? Can she ever look at that pool again? If she fires the caretaker, who brings over the Adderall with just a quick text reminder? The other dude is already dead. Life goes on. Has anybody called Juan the pool guy? We’re going to need more chlorine.
According to a bunch of gossip rags that dig through celebrity garbage bins, LeAnn Rimes and her rented cock husband are fast approaching broke. It’s related to LeAnn’s inability to commit fully to a music career since every time she leaves the house for more than five minutes, her unemployed husband sneaks a girl over and fucks her in their bed. On the bright side, they’re about to lose their home. This shit is much harder to pull in the back of a car. Legally, Rimes won’t be able to profit from the sale of her book about what led her to stab her deadbeat dick seventy-five times with kitchen shears but the read should still be good. Turn the wiper blades on and whoosh away the crazy. There’s still a nice ass in there somewhere.
Donald Trump appears to have lost the sane vote, the Latino vote, the self respecting vote, the moderate vote, the reader vote, and the voter vote. He now appears to have alienated the entire Republican party after making fun of John McCain because he spent six years in a POW camp. That should go over swimmingly at the Elk’s Lodge:
“He’s not a war hero. He was a war hero because he was captured. I like people who weren’t captured.”
Cue the gong. Trump of course has never fought in any wars not counting Twitter. Looking back on his campaign, this might be the moment when he decided to start videographing the rest of it for an impending special on E!. Insulting one of the most respected and longest serving members of your own party, particularly over the fact that his plane was shot down in Vietnam and not that his flag pendant is crooked, bridges the gap between irresponsible, psychotic, and just plain stupid. Trump has finally attained zero sum status. I’m sure there are a few hard right Republicans out there who lack respect for the military. He’s got their votes. Bust out the kerosine. Perhaps he’ll hold a fundraiser in their fuck cellar. Bunker my ass.