Charlie Sheen still believes that he’s one of the most important people in the world, so if he walks into a restaurant and sees another celebrity that his fiancée, Brett Rossi, wants to meet, that celebrity better fucking comply, or else he will let them feel his wrath. Rihanna was the latest example last week, because even though Charlie claimed he had no clue who Rihanna was at the time, he “sent a request” to her table for a meeting, because that’s what his latest future ex-wife wanted for her birthday. Rihanna declined and the rest is one ridiculous twitter rant for the ages.
Last week, rapper Drake and his on again/off again girlfriend Rihanna reportedly ended things again because he “loves her too much,” which is the sort of thing that is said about a guy before he’s sent away to prison for sawing a woman’s head off and filling her skull with his own hair. And because he loves Rihanna too much, Drake is already back together with his other on again/off again girlfriend, Brandy Price, which makes her look like she just took the door off the hinges and told the mopiest rapper in the game to stop by any time that he wants to post her photo on Instagram. In a week or so, Drake will realize that he kisses Brandy too gently and needs to move on to another of his former girlfriends, and hopefully he’ll eventually meet the right woman who lives just on the other side of a really busy highway.
I had to stop paying attention to Donald Sterling after hearing about V. Stiviano and his crinkled peen. It’s like walking in on your parents having sex, if your dad is 80 and your mom is a young Mexican hooker wearing a dental hygienists visor. But Rihanna isn’t aborting her civil rights vigilance. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget the role celebrities play in advancing important social causes through both re-Tweets and attending George Clooney birthday parties. Rihanna is a proud black woman and if Donald Sterling doesn’t want black people at his games, I mean, he didn’t say that, but let’s assume he did, then how about Rihanna without a bra showing off her tits courtside. Eat that crow on a Magic Johnson The AIDS contaminated plate, Donald. Rihanna’s tits are the Rosa Parks of tits. That doesn’t make sense. Neither does racism.
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If there’s one thing Mark Zuckerberg can’t abide it’s nipples. Big old ripe areola on the ends of female breasts. It drives him into an Aspy billionaire panic. He so much as a sees a nipple, and he starts batch emailing the private records of hundreds of millions of his users to the NSA with a short note, ‘Internment camps? I won’t tell’. You can get away with a lot of vicious scummy self-destructive behavior on Facebook and Instagram, but you show a nipple and you are gone. Instagram warned Rihanna to cut back on the titty flashing pics, she posted more, and they put her account on hold. Then, they remembered she was Rihanna and restored it and pretended like nothing happened:
Yesterday, we briefly disabled the account by mistake and restored it quickly. I can confirm that we have not deleted the account subsequently,” Alison Schumer of Instagram’s public relations team.
Well, Alison, we all have to pay the rent so I can’t fault you for being the shill they made lie. Remember, when you meet Zuckerberg at the annual employee’s picnic, soft handshakes bad. Also, wear a padded bra.
Photo Credit: Rihanna/Instagram
People who focus on Rihanna’s shitty music and taste in boyfriends ought to consider focusing on her ass a bit more. I find it’s a great technique for discovering the positive in people. Rihanna changed out of her semi low cut dress at the Met Gala to one that flashed half her bare crack for the after-party so she could be the most popular girl at the really fucking expensive prom. Shit like that is so obvious, yet always works. I bet tons of people told her how amazing she looked. I would’ve dropped a couple coins down her slot, climbed on board, and waited for her to start bouncing. That’s why I never get invited to these kinds of parties.
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iHeart Radio inaugurated its first ever music awards and they went straight for the young teen girl popularity jugular. They didn’t even pretend like the Grammy’s still do or the American Music Awards or even the MTV whatever the fuck they do in between pregnant teen girls beating each other reality shows. Rihanna was awarded the best artist of the totes magotes. Then they actually gave an award to her official online fan group, the Rihanna Navy. It’s like the Mexican Navy, but with trendy tops and print skirts instead of just gonorrhea. Ariana Grande was given an award for being a young influencer. What she influences was not really spelled out, but I’m going to assume they meant underaged girls getting half naked in selfies. The pedophiles seemed pleased and applauded with one hand. Miley Cyrus won an award for best lyrics for Wrecking Ball, despite nobody pointing out that she didn’t write the song. Teen hearthrob Austin Mahone won the Instagram Award, which is the fake award you give to the dumb hot chick you’re trying to bone in your office. The award show made a big deal out of EDM since that is the genre young girls searching for even crappier music than Miley and Rihanna have turned to while waiting for boys to start having sex with them and making them listen to rock. According to all the public relations newsflashes I received, the evening was a great success. Though it would’ve been much better if Chris Brown had escaped his jail cell six blocks down and come over looking for his woman. Angry Chris Brown versus Rihanna Navy would’ve been epic.
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