Kanye West headlined the Glastonbury Festival on Saturday night, and British comedian Simon Brodkin bum-rushed the show as his “Lee Nelson” character. Instead of realizing he’s had this coming for a long time and playing along, Kanye acted like a gaping asshole. Which is not a character. He had security yank Brodkin away. He also demanded that the guy backstage who pushes the play button press pause so he could start “Black Skinhead” over again. Cut to a Scientology-approved yert in which Beck is nodding approvingly. Then cut over to Karlie Kloss’ hotel room where Taylor Swift is French-braiding Karlie’s hair and beginning every sentence with “Imma let you finish but Lee Nelson had…” before tee-hee-heeing.
“Lee Nelson” mimed that he was rapping during his brief appearance and those mere seconds were better than any performance that Kanye has ever given. There was more life, more soul, more spirit in Mr. Brodkin’s actions than in anything Kanye has ever done. Kanye realized this. Seeking validation, he later informed the crowd that they were “watching the greatest living rock star on the planet!” The definition of humble:
Glastonbury was equally problematic for Kim Kardashian West. Some resourceful youngster in the crowd made a flag depicting Kim Kardashian sucking off Ray J.
Finally! That sex tape that ruined all of our lives is useful.
Check out Kuntye and wife boarding a helicopter for the festival:
I’d go. Will you be in Oakland on June 30? Do you have $40 (is she for real)? Interested in hearing a woman whose initial bid for superstardom was getting railed in a sex tape speak on the objectification of women? Me, too! Head on down to the Paramount Theatre to listen to noted feminist activist Kim Kardashian speak on “her new book Selfish, the Kardashian Jenner clan, the business of millennial culture, the objectification of women in media, and more” in “Kim Kardashian West Live!” That title makes it sound like there will be backup dancers. If only.
According to People, it will be a “seminar/lecture” in which Kim will also speak on “monetizing” every single aspect of your life, from your Instagram feed to “um, wait, what’s her name? That thing that the au pair carries around? The one with whom I occasionally pose for photos? You know, they hand her over to me, I lift her, smile and look maternal (HAH), and then I pass her off…? You know, the one Anna Wintour hissed at? NORTH WEST! That’s him. Her? Her. Yeah, her.”
Monetize your child! Monetize your ass! Monetize your narcissism! And do it in the clothes your husband has instructed you to wear!
Check out more absolutely inspiring pics of Kim leaving an Italian restaurant in Calabasas, CA in the gallery below.
A serene-looking Kim Kardashian kept her kulo klassy at the BET Honors last night. By “klassy,” I mean her husband didn’t have her serve that ass up like two greased n’ shiny hogs gone fetal per usual. Instead, Yeezus stuffed her into a dark-sided frock that made her look like Bore-ticia Addams.
It’s refreshing (I guess) to be able to see Kim’s sex ferret face not being eclipsed by her donk, but that’s a weird dress. Yes, I’m sure it’s considered to be the finest couture, but man, do these two try too hard. I know she’s never said no to anything (exploitation, watersports, her mother pinning her soul down with the Ajanti Dagger in a magic circle for Satan to come collect), but someone tell her she can! Eff his delusions of Kunty Karl! You can contain the ass in a palatable way, Kimmy. Coats or something, right? I don’t know, my shirt is from Target.
And how come every time I see these two out and about (and that’s a lot), their baby is nowhere to be found? Yes, this is a “red carpet” situation, but I’m talking in general. Don’t tell me it’s some sort of “keeping the kid away from the paps” situation, either. Just call it a day and change that kid’s name to “Who?” already.
Check out more pics of Kim and Kanye at the BET Honors at the Warner Theatre in Washington, DC below.
Photo credit: WENN and Splash
Because Phoebe Price was already booked for the opening of an Arby’s in the Santa Clarita Valley (I made that up), GLAAD hired Rumer Willis to be the resident seat filler at their Media Awards in Los Angeles last night. Wearing a fresh-out-of-the-plastic-bag polyester weave and serving up an eyebrow situation that’ll make all the other taters in the garden salivate through their eyes with jealousy, Rumer hit the carpet and let everyone know that you don’t need talent to get bitches to take your picture. You just need to come out of the right vagina.
When Tater Head sees these pictures of herself last night, she should chin who ever is responsible for painting her mug up like that. It looks like they just blew white flour in her face and called it a day. Bitch looks like uncooked potatoes au gratin. But you know, I can’t fully hate on Rumer, because she’s got a semi-hot piece at her side and last night I fell asleep between a body pillow and my farting chihuahua.
Here’s some other hos at last night’s GLAAD Media Awards: Tater with her piece Jayson Blair, Sara Gilbert, an understated Brad Goreski, Chaz Bono, the Evans brothers, Elle Fanning, Blue Ivy Carter’s weekday babysitter, Kiki Dunst, Steven Tyler with a perm, Naya Rivera, the Noxzema Girl with McSteamy, Wilson Cruz, Beth Ditto with her girlfriend, Trevor Donovan assuming the position, Matt Dallas and Unique from Glee.
The place to be on Saturday morning was in front of Bungalo Bar on Mississippi Avenue in Portland, because Beth Ditto of The Gossip was out on the street drunkenly declaring her love for Obama while kicking her shoes off. Somewhere Beyonce is pfft-ing at all of this, because not a day goes by when she isn’t drunkenly declaring her love for Obama while ripping her wig off.
Willamette Week (via Kelly Green Blog) says that around 1am on Saturday, Beth Ditto was turning it loose at Bungalo Bar and she wanted to fill her veins with more drops of the sweet nectar when the bartender said the five dreaded words every party time bitch hates to hear: “You is cut off, slut!” Beth didn’t let that slow her roll down. She walked out of the bar, kicked off her shoes and sashayed into the middle of the street while screaming, “Obama! Obama!” Beth’s friends were trying to get her into the car when the cops showed up and ruined the party.
The cops were already down the street arresting some dude for tagging a wall, so they saw Beth screaming in the middle of the street. They arrested her and charged her with second-degree disorderly conduct.
If anybody deserved to be arrested, it was those cops. How unpatriotic of them to arrest a drunken ho who is doing some belated campaigning for Obama. America is supposed to be the land of the free and the definition of “free” is screaming in the middle of the street while drunk off your ass. But even though Beth’s buzz was killed, she still kept it glamorous for the cameras. She looks like a chola who rolled out of bed, quickly dressed up her eyelids with a Sharpie and then walked on over to the corner bakery to buy some pan dulce for her vato. Early morning chola stunningess.
For reasons I will never understand even if you spelled it out for me using the ink from Mah Boo Anderson Cooper’s favorite peen (Freudian slipped on purpose), the secret love child of Mrs. Swan and Ursula walked the Gaultier show in Paris yesterday without two very important things: EYEBROWS!
Beth Ditto slathers her face with every single shit found in the shoe box marked “Slutoween make-up” you keep under your bed, yet she refuses to draw upside down smiles over her eyes with a Sharpie! What have eyebrows ever done to Beth? Why doesn’t she let her eyes once again experience the beautiful feeling of having twin rainbows of exquisiteness over them?
Are her eyelashes shoo-shoo-shooing them away out of jealousy? Are her eye sockets eating ’em? WHY? WHY? WHY? Bring Beth in for questioning! This crusade against brows must come to an end.
Here is Beth Ditto performing with The Gossip at the Wireless Festival in London….and I really don’t know how to handle her eyebrow situation, among other things. I mean, her pomelo pussy haircut…. Her “King Koopa going to a fetish party” dress…. The way she’s attacking that mic like it’s a delicious chocolate-covered churro trying to run away (I was going to write “hard peen” but Beth is the opposite of strictly dickly)…. And the brows….
THE BROWS! It looks like Beth drew on her brows while getting tickled in the no-no in the back of a pick-up driving down an extra bumpy road. What am I supposed to do with those brows? If you stare at them long enough it almost looks like her eye holes are giving birth to Bart Simpson.
I’m just going to leave these pictures for you right here while I go and sniff on a bunch of Sharpies. Maybe they will help me understand.
Beth Ditto on how she used to be the government cheese version of Winona Ryder:
“I have a hard time not buying or stealing. If I want something, I have to have it. But not anymore. The last time was three months ago – a dress from Marshalls. I used to steal more. I mostly stole from Goodwill. You know, ‘Can’t be bothered. The line’s too long. Put it in your purse’.”
via Paper Mag
Beth Ditto normally looks like something Leigh Bowery queefed up, but she looked extra dragalicious last night, because she was judging some drag show in London. I approve of this look only because her hair is probably what Carrot Top’s nut bush looks like.
This is some “Poor Unfortunate Souls” shit and that is the highest of compliments! I mean, Beth Ditto’s mesmerizing cholita eyebrows are a work of high art! This is the real reason why the Sharpie was invented! Seriously, they should teach this shit in all schools. Fuck 2 + 2, our nation’s children need to know how to achieve stunning brows like this.
Beth is a brave bitch traveling without a couple of Brinks guards, because I know a few hardcore cholas that would cut those things right off! Although, Beth could probably knock them the fuck out just by rolling her dice.
Here’s Beth and her holy eyebrows at the launch of her fashion line in London yesterday with some overgrown Oompa Loompa.