By Lex July 28, 2014 @ 12:36 PM
Gaga loosened the leather straps on her stage underwear to allow for her thirty new pounds and played a Microsoft private corporate function over the weekend. The people developing the next completely unnecessary version of Windows pretended Lady Gaga was a cool get as the Bill Gates minders passed through the party, but most were secretly lamenting the the fact that BeBe and CeCe Winans had been unavailable. After the corporate gig, Gaga hit Denny’s for pancakes and then boarded a Greyhound for New York where she’s recording duets with Tony Bennett. Outside of being named a Kennedy Center honoree, I can’t think of a more striking set of death knells to Lady Gaga’s career. It was brief, but it sucked so incredibly bad, Lady Gaga can take comfort in knowing it won’t soon be forgotten.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
By Lex July 28, 2014 @ 11:55 AM
I get nervous when I know a woman can kick my ass. It upsets the natural balance of power. Men are supposed to be the physically dominant brutes easily manipulated by women until such time as prostate malignancy comes and frees them of their life of subjugation. Then their women trash their high school trophies and start banging their young tennis instructors. At least, that’s the bright portrait I’ve always envisioned. When women start getting ripped and physical and shooting Lyle Alzado cocktails into their quads, it’s like gnus snatching up crocodiles at the watering holes. You can’t just leave your socks on the floor or nail her best friend and think you’re going to get away with a talking to. You’re up in the air being spun around like a bitch made from balsa wood. Nature has been corrupted and you’re not making it to start and stop urinations. Beat down time is upon you.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
By Lex July 28, 2014 @ 11:13 AM
It’s so sad when something as beautiful as the pure unadulterated commercialization of Hollywood fare becomes corrupted by the ugliness of handsy nerds. But it’s happened. Scantily clad women in homemade superhero costumes are being touched, cat-called, and even photographed without their consent at Comic-Con. Somebody must rise to the aid of these bare assed exhibitionists. That somebody is Geeks for CONsent, a random group of convention going girls who want to put an end to the unexpectedly high rates of ungentlemanly behavior from the throngs of horny virgins. Well, not an entirely random group. The Geeks for CONsent girls actually happen to sell a comic book designed to help teach the wrongy wrongness of sexual harassment again women and gays and gay women and feral rabbits. Quite coincidentally, these ladies in the business of spotting harassment spotted tons of harassment at Comic-Con.
“It’s a separate, more specific issue within the convention space. It’s very much connected (to the larger problem) and it’s the same phenomena, but manifesting a little more sexually vulgar in the comic space.” — Rochelle Keyhan, vaunted leader of Geeks for CONsent
Keyhan noted that scantily clad women were used in presentation panels, including ten belly-baring women who were ‘slaves’ to Dwayne Johnson when he pimped out Hercules. I’m not making this horror up. These women were showing off their navels and pretending Hercules was their master. You’d have to go back to institutionalized rape in the Bosnian war in the 1990′s to compare this kind of wanton evil.
For her part, veteran cosplayer and former Peter Brady wide Adrianne Curry saw a guy sneaking his finger into her fellow costumed friend’s bikini bottom so she beat the crap out of him with her cosplay weapons. Which I guess is similar to the Geeks for CONsent game plan, only actually effective.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
By Lex July 28, 2014 @ 10:14 AM
My heartstrings could use a little advanced notice on Paris Hilton breakups. Apparently she doesn’t understand how many of us live through her romantic and viral transmission escapades. The last I heard Paris was dating that teen boy model with the name that reminded everybody how many times he got same-sex raped as a child. I guess that’s over. Now she’s making out with this new guy in front of her beach house. I thought he might be black, but then I remembered Paris hates black people. Then again, she loves publicity more than she hates dark skinned men, so it’s tough to say. Summer love is like that. Whimsical and largely unprotected. Welcome to the Eskimo brotherhood of the puss-filled urine, random stranger.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet
By Lex July 28, 2014 @ 9:30 AM
Lindsay Lohan was the guest of honor at The White Party in Austria where they still know Lindsay as the girl who miraculously played both twins in the same scene in The Parent Trap. Only now she has tits and hates bras. Which made her perfect to be the guest of honor at an event where everybody wears white to celebrate “local and international arts and music” while plotting the rise of the next Reich. It took Lindsay a while to figure out why everybody kept asking her if her rich deep bruises were the result of being attacked by gypsies, negroes, and Jews in America. Lindsay deftly dodged politics for one night to focus on drinking and changing her dress when she felt pee running down her leg. Lindsay collected her check at the end of the evening and was carted away in a World Cup field stretcher, waving bravely at the crowd. The evening was a grand success.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet
By Lex July 28, 2014 @ 9:08 AM
Reality TV works when you pair dullards in the audience with producers who lock down the leaks. Then somebody from the land of slightly sentient beings gets a thought, something like, if Tori Spelling is broke and evicted and can’t afford to fix her tit blobs, how is she living in a $30,000 a month beach house for the summer? Reality, right off the rails. Doubt creeps in and suddenly you’re wondering if her drunk unemployed husband is really banging babies into Canadian chicks or maybe he’s just drunk and unemployed and not even that interesting. Maybe Tori’s skull piercing open-gill shrieks about his infidelity and being broke and busted and out of options… could that be fake? I’d rather find out that the lunar landing was staged or that 9/11 was the result of a struggling Sbarro franchise owner calling his cousins to take out his restaurant and make it look inconspicuous. If reality shows are phony, what is left to believe in? This is exactly how Scientology creeps in.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet, Splash
By Matt July 28, 2014 @ 7:39 AM
Cara Delevingne thought it would be a good idea to wear a fur coat to Leonardo DiCaprio’s environmental fundraiser aimed at protecting animals and the environment. Actually she probably didn’t think about anything, because she can do whatever the fuck she wants. She could drape herself in a Palestinian flag and walk into a kosher deli and get a free sandwich. Nobody’s going to tell her when she’s behaving inappropriately, because chicks don’t often blow guys who make them realize they are idiots. DiCaprio probably does actually care about the environment, but would definitely club a baby seal to death for a chance at getting in her bisexual box.
It looks like the jacket was made of rabbits, which are not endangered and can multiply quickly enough to take over the world, if they weren’t dumb fucking rabbits. Still you wouldn’t wear a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt to an NAACP fundraiser, its just not a good look. The move confirms my suspicion that most people involved in charity don’t really give a shit about the cause as much as their own self image. Delevingne is probably off to cry about the elephants and then purchase some Congolese ivory to fashion dildos for her lesbian model droids.
Photo Credit: Instagram
By Matt July 28, 2014 @ 7:17 AM
There is a Lifetime movie about Whitney Houston’s life in the works, but her mom doesn’t want it to move forward. Cissy Houston is apparently concerned the movie will distort the facts of Whitney’s life, like that she was a crackhead or was married to Bobby Brown or occasionally sang. She finds it irritating none of the people involved in the film’s production were personal friends of Whitney:
No one connected with this movie knew Whitney or anything about her relationship with Bobby… I find it difficult to believe people who knew and supposedly loved her would participate in a movie about her done by folks who didn’t know her.
Who does this woman expect should be directing the movie, Cousin Tanya from down the street? This is a Lifetime movie. It’ll be seen by seventeen women who are mostly trying not to think about cheesecake or their desiccated vaginas or whether cheesecake can solve that dryness problem if applied directly. Naturally the movie will portray Whitney as a screaming, vamping, screeching, nagging, and snorting mess. And we’ll all pretend to feel bad for Cissy and talk about what a hatchet job Lifetime did with Whitney’s life. Then we’ll all secretly agree it was pretty accurate.
Photo Credit: Getty Images