By Lex September 18, 2014 @ 10:59 AM
The amount of dicks you must suck and shitty contracts you must sign to catch a break in the music business is rather extraordinary. If you come from a famous family or happen to be a teen TV star you can get into the music thing with probably just a few gropes and inappropriate jokes. But for a girl like Amethyst Amelia Kelly, aka, Iggy Azalea, every rung of the ladder is crafted out of some conniving dude’s cock. Like Hefe Wine. He was Iggy’s manager and fuck buddy. He got her to sign a release form in 2009 that says he can produce and distribute all filmed content of her. It was designed for music videos and performances, but since he can now make a shitload more selling videos of him boinking her in the ass, he’s claiming if he sets the sex tape to music, he’s bulletproof on the legals.
I’m torn on Hefe’s claim. While he is clearly doing a screw job on Iggy, I’d like to see that screw job for myself. As with all moral conflicts, I consult my minister than err heavily on the side of what gives me the most immediate gratification.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI
By Matt September 15, 2014 @ 6:39 AM
Iggy Azalea’s lawyers are threatening to sue Vivid if they market her sex tape with the name Iggy on it, because Iggy is a trademark of Iggy Azalea and not the ten thousand part-time employed dudes who play some guitar named Iggy. These lawyers are really getting into specifics over a tape they kind of claim doesn’t exist. Regardless of what Vivid names the movie plenty of people will be watching it. Word tends to get out pretty quickly on these things and those who can’t bring themselves to violate porn copyright laws online will pony up their money to see Igggy Azzalea get her titanic injected glutes pounded. Iggy Azalea’s team seems freaked out about what might be on the tape so it must include something pretty good. I don’t know what could be embarrassing to a chick whose stage act involves bending over and slapping her pussy in front of school aged children, but I know I want to see it on my good monitor.
By Lex September 12, 2014 @ 8:52 AM
Iggy Azalea has a sex tape, or so says the purveyors of fine pseudo celebrity porn at Vivid who exclusively leak both real and unreal information through TMZ in a partnership of pure evil. Like the Legion of Doom, if Solomon Grundy had Harvey Levin’s cock in his mouth. Azalea’s legal team is scrambling with every pre-emptive legal 101 in the book, including the tried and true ’she was underage’ when her boyfriend slash business partner shot the two of them humping her pre-fat injected ass. Child porn threats are the nuclear option for young celebrities caught flashing their genitals on camera.
Nobody climbs the ladder of success in the music business without a few rungs made entirely of deviously bent poles that request servicing. The difference these days is everybody has a camera. I’ve never felt the desire to film my intimate moments with another woman. I guess if I were boning a rising star like Iggy Azalea I might be more inclined to figure out video mode on my cell phone, a feature previously reserved for proud parents and people filming ongoing disasters rather than providing assistance. I’ll show you what I can of the tape once it arises, unless she really is underage in which case we’ll assemble in my tree house and pass around the View-Master and swear not to tell a soul.
By Lex September 05, 2014 @ 2:55 PM
Throw up your hands if you love a big booty.
Oh, fuck yeah. I want to pound that ass until the lipo-injected fat cap explodes into a Burger King used grease trap of rainbow fucking delicious. At this point, the pop stars with the big fake asses are just singing songs about big fake asses. Sort of like Marvin Gaye sang about the black experience and Morrissey croons about being a self-indulgent pansy who cries every time a farmer pulls a carrot from the ground anywhere on earth. An artist speaks from their experience. Jennifer Lopez was one of the early winners in the chicks with nice asses who were transformed into tuned-up mega-music stars. Iggy Azalea is the latest. Without 1,000 cc’s of human butter churning in her dumper, Iggy would be dispensing change at a Melbourne area laundry mat. I think they call them kangaroo wallaby shacks or something quaint down in Australia. The two have come together for the dulcet Booty, which has been teased in photos, single covers, and now a trailer sizzle, before at some point the entire steaming musical pile is shat out of the Payola rectum and becomes a hit.
I don’t begrudge a woman making a career off her booty. Fuck, I’d take that paycheck in a second if my gender and ass could be Frankensteined accordingly. Maybe though lay a bit lower on the songs specifically about your humped up body parts. Karma is an imprecise bitch. No innocents should have to come back as sea conchs because you lack irony.
Photo Credit: Youtube
By Lex September 01, 2014 @ 12:11 PM
There’s nothing more American than Labor Day. It might be an international trade union event that morphed into communism and the world’s worst parades ever, but it’s still the day we close all the public pools sending the pedophiles back into the classrooms and Fed-Ex Kinko’s. Nothing says U.S.A. like some British chick and an Australian chick with a big fake ass at a Made in America concert in Los Angeles. They did a lot of pretending to make out and feel each other up, which I appreciate. You can’t auto-tune fake lesbian stage antics. Within this decade Labor Day will be swapped out for a holiday about turning off your air-conditioning so that marmosets won’t go extinct. Enjoy it now, comrades. America, Fuck Yeah.
Photo credit: INF Photos
By Lex August 08, 2014 @ 11:35 AM
It’s the job of old people to tell young people how they no longer work hard for shit they want. Back in my day if a girl wanted a bubble ass, she had to fly to Guadalajara and pay a veterinarian 10,000,000 pesos or eleven dollars to pour QUIKRETE® into open flaps on her ass while the Santeria priestess beat you about the face with a strangled capon. Now you can slip into a doctor’s office in Beverly Hills masked as a LensCrafters and have highly soluble strained animal fat injected below your gluteal muscles. In and out in thirty minutes. It’s like the auto-tuning of music, only more important, because this is lady ass. Everybody wants to be famous fast and without having to fellate the proper chain of command. This perversion of the natural ass order will eventually blow up, and when it does, it’s going to smell a lot like pork sausage.
Photo Credit: Pacific Coast News, INFphoto.com