By Lex November 17, 2014 @ 12:26 PM
Just when you think, oh, shit, a woman is claiming Cosby slipped her a mickey and raped her in his bungalow all the way back to the 80′s, along comes an AARP member with stories of Cosby and his I feel funny cocktails back in the 60′s. Cosby’s like a raping Highlander. He’s been journeying through time knocking out girls and pleasuring himself since the days of the ancient Celtics. If there’s one thing these Cosby stories have taught us, by the time Cos offers you a redeye cocktail, you’ve already been raped. Or worse according to Joan Tarshis at age nineteen heading back to his bungalow on the Universal lot to ‘talk about material’:
The next thing I remember was coming to on his couch while being undressed. Through the haze I thought I was being clever when I told him I had an infection and he would catch it and his wife would know he had sex with someone. But he just found another orifice to use.
That’s so Cosby. Resourceful bastard. Knee-jerk defenders will point out all of the comedian’s accusers have been young women looking for a leg up in the business and perhaps overly open to some imprudent visits back to the redeye bungalow. But of course they are. Rapists who leap out of alleys wielding knives end up spending their lives in prison. Savvy predators end up living full lives and winning awards and having libraries named after them because they have the cunning to subdue easy targets who will shrink after their attack.
The number of women coming out by name with eerily similar accusations means a case that will never be brought in court is already pretty much settled in public perception. It’s sad really. 7th Heaven dad flashing grade school girls. Cosby unnecessarily drugging young women to feed some weird sexual deviancy. Kindly priests and inspiring coaches. It’s impossible to say who is the raping type anymore. You’re only chance to make it to twenty without orifice violation is to be a pudgy unattractive boy. Thank you, Jesus. You said my blessings would be hidden.
By Jack November 17, 2014 @ 12:00 PM
A couple weeks ago Jose Canseco claims he accidentally shot off his finger while cleaning a gun, as happens to millions of Americans daily. He had the digit re-attached by some discount doctor and the finger fell off during a poker game in Vegas. It’ll all be in his next hilarious autobiography, Funny Shit That Happened on the Way to My Rape Trial.
How will he hold the ‘roids syringe with only four fingers? (The Superficial)
The Dropkick Murphys ran a guy the fuck over with their tour bus. (TMZ)
Is it just me or is Angelina Jolie looking more and more like Skeletor? (Huffington Post)
Melanie Ribbe is all kinds of naked in these “arty” shots. (Drunken Stepfather)
This is Alexandra Erickson and this is her ass. (Hollywood Tuna)
Yara Khmidan in a bikini is faaaaaptastic. (Popoholic)
Amy Jackson’s tits are big and plump like a tit melon. (Celebslam)
By Lex November 17, 2014 @ 10:58 AM
I don’t wish death on anybody. That’s some necromancer karma you don’t want bouncing back. But I do gamble on it. Tara Reid has been eating up space in my 2014 celebrity death pool since January 1. The Sharknado resurrection seemed a setback, but seeing Tara exit the plane in Australia I’ve started easing into my winnings. Tara’s traveled to Australia presumably to trek out into the Outback until kangaroos feast on her desiccated carcass. It’s a Circle of Life ending her agent convinced her was her best career option. After a few weeks of tribute songs, Jedward will Segway along her path of Wasabi peas and retrieve her sun bleached remains. Something to display at the Turnpike Rest Area to be named in her honor.
Photo Credit: INF
By Lex November 17, 2014 @ 10:24 AM
Every cast member who wasn’t killed during the production of the original Crow reassembled at a crappy theater at midnight in L.A. to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the film’s original release. The Crow is s mostly known for Bruce Lee’s son taking a bullet fragment from a gun supposedly filled with blanks and dying during production. Conspiracies about ancient Chinese Kung-Fu mobsters taking him out with the dark arts was far more entertaining than the goth comic movie itself. Bai Ling was in the original. I think she was like fifty then. Which makes seeing her tits at this 20th anniversary screening somewhat impressive. You could do worse than imitating her health regimen. Or her appreciation for the adult Halloween haunted house miming arts.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
By Lex November 17, 2014 @ 10:07 AM
Every five to ten years, Bono and Gay Beethoven and Bob Geldof and whoever’s hot in the British pop music scene spend another few hours re-recording the exact same fucking song to cure the latest African hardship. It started thirty years ago with Band Aid’s Do They Know It’s Christmas?, an ensemble recording designed to heal Ethiopia of being one super crappy place to live. Fifty million radio plays later, Ethiopia is still a shit hole. For Band Aid 30, it’s Ebola. The boys from One Direction are determined to snuff it out. They changed ‘feed the world’ to ‘heal the world’ which is short for can somebody please fucking buy the Congo some indoor plumbing already. If Ebola was feeling perhaps a bit over-confident what with Obama offering it red carpet welcomes in the U.S, and the fact that half of Sierra Leone still sees diarrhea as a potable liquid, this new Band-Aid recording ought to send shivers down its viral spine. You’re done, Ebola. This song cured famine in sub-Saharan Sudan, turned Haiti into a thriving economic juggernaut, and it’s going to flush Ebola right down Santa’s crapper.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
By Lex November 17, 2014 @ 9:12 AM
Solange Knowles finally married the much older music video director she’s been dating for several years. The couple threw an intricately planned New Orleans wedding that involved everything from a pantomimed re-creation of the levees breaking during Katrina to 50,000 local school children being bused to the Super Dome to serenade Solange with some of her more famous songs that nobody’s ever heard. It’s nice to see Solange finally getting out of the shadow of her more popular and talented and better looking sister. Solange and her tits seemed particularly pleased to be the center of attention for something other than her hair falling out in two fisted clumps or beating up Jay Z in an elevator. Every girl deserves to be a princess on their wedding day. There’s plenty of time for punches and shrill recriminations after the guests have gone home.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet
By Lex November 17, 2014 @ 8:59 AM
Kendall Jenner is further proof that high school is a big waste of time for pretty girls. I don’t mean that one sort of good looking girl in AP Chem, I mean the vast majority of girls who God made tall and slender and good looking then decided that was enough with the gifts. What was Kendall going to do with the California high school experience of Algebra and seventeen annual events honoring obscure Mexican folk heroes? Maybe she rises to cash register level permission at the Forever 21. Without high school, she’s authored a dystopian landscape sci-fi book series for girls and now is the face of Estee Lauder:
“She is the ultimate instagirl, and we are excited to leverage her image, voice, energy and extraordinary social media power to introduce Estée Lauder to millions of young women around the world.” — Estée Lauder Global Brand President Jane Hertzmark Hudis
I don’t even know what instagirl means other than some chick with a big title and three names saying it means Kendall just got paid. For all her various faults and epic levels of Satanic evil, Kris Jenner knows her children well. She isn’t raising Stephen Hawkings. If her girls end up in a wheelchair, it’s time to roll them to the glue factory and close out the books. If Kendall Jenner serves no greater purpose than to convince the best looking girls to forgo a basic education she will have done more good than most.
Photo Credit: Estee Lauder
By Lex November 17, 2014 @ 6:01 AM
Australian Today Show host Karl Stefanovic wore the same Burberry styled blue suit for an entire year just to prove that nobody gives a shit what anchor men wear on morning television while the same viewers regularly critique the women. Karl could’ve spent a year helping the Sydney homeless or pumping birdshot into those cane toads ruining the Outback, but wearing the same suit for a full year just felt like the perfect women’s studies thesis statement.
No one has noticed; no one gives a shit. Women are judged much more harshly and keenly for what they do, what they say and what they wear.
Excellent work, Karl. You’ve spent a year proving something we already knew. What Karl failed to highlight was that the entirety of superficial criticisms of his female co-host came from female viewers. Which proves two things. Women shit sexism for breakfast and Karl looks pretty fucking spectacular in that blue suit. Enough to flick your bean to while emailing nasty comments about that stupid whore in her new stupid fucking outfit Perhaps it’s time to prove the theory of gravity by dropping something dangerously heavy on your head.