Malala Yousafzai became the youngest Nobel Peace Prize winner in history today (“Malala, you’re welcome for the recommendation, by the way” – Justin Bieber) and the day should belong to her and it did belong to her until St. Angie Jolie came along and stole her glory!
Back in June, the British royals announced that they were adding the title of “Dame” to St. Angie Jolie’s mountain of other titles (e.g. Saint, The Second Coming, Great Royal Home Wrecker, Our Lady Of Condom Shoes, etc…). Today at Buckingham Palace in London, THE QUEEN made it official by dame’ing St. Angie Jolie while throwing a look that said, “Reminder to self: Fish out that jam-covered crumpet I keep in my pocketbook and give it to this malnourished child.” THE QUEEN’s Corgis were seen around Buckingham Palace with clothespins on their noses and that could only mean one thing: stinky ass Brad Pitt was in the building. Brad Pitt and the entire child army were there when THE QUEEN presented St. Angie with the insignia of an Honorary Dame Grand Cross of the Most Distinguished Order of St Michael and St George for helping to save the world, specifically for her campaign work fighting sexual violence and for services to UK foreign policy.
The Telegraph says that since St. Angie Jolie isn’t a Brit, she can’t use the title of Dame, but she can throw the initials DCMG after her name. (“Oh, does DCMG stand for Depraved Conniving Man Grabber?” – Jennifer Aniston circa 2005)
St. Angie Jolie and Brad Pitt were reportedly invited to George Clooney’s intimate, low-key wedding in Venice, but they didn’t go, because they were too busy shooting their version of Eyes Wide Shut called By The Sea in Malta. They’re still shooting that movie, so I guess St. Angie only makes time for real queens, not STUNT QUEENS.
Here’s more of St. Angie looking like Lady Tremaine in an Easter suit while getting honored by THE QUEEN.
When both People and Hello! published EXCLUSIVO pictures of the most important royal wedding since the Duchess of Alba married that young trick, I figured that both People and Hello! would shut down, because they cleared out their accounts, sold off a few of their employees and even sucked dick for $2 a piece under a bridge to pay Brangelina. Radar says that the pictures did sell for a lot of coins, but People and Hello! didn’t have to liquidate everything to buy them. Brangie donated the money to their charity like they always do.
Some source tells Radar that People paid $2.5 million for the US rights and Hello! paid $2.5 million for the international rights. St. Angie Jolie and Brad Pitt used a Getty photographer they always use. The money went directly to The Maddox Jolie Pitt Foundation which supports different humanitarian projects around the world. Yeah, uh huh, I’m sure all the money donated to The Maddox Jolie Pitt Foundation isn’t used to fund the growing child army that will one day battle the Duggars to become the most powerful overlords on the planet. I’m sure. Radar’s source said this:
“Brad and Angelina knew their would be tremendous interest in their wedding pictures, and decided to donate the money to their charitable foundation. The couple has done this numerous times in the past.”
According to Wikipedia, the first pictures of the Chosen Ones, Knox and Vivienne Jolie-Pitt, still hold the record for the most expensive celebrity pictures. People and Hello! paid $15 million total for those pictures in 2008.
Meanwhile, Ashlee Simpson can’t even get 15 pesos and a dirty condom for the pictures of her wedding with Diana Ross’ pretty-faced son. Dumbass Ashlee. If she let Papa Joe be in her wedding party and let him wear his outfit of a choice (a rhinestone-encrusted mesh tuxedo with a grey camouflage thong and white cowboy boots), her wedding pictures would’ve broken ALL the records.
Okay, so I can stop sending hate mail to “St. Angie, c/o God, Heaven, 051322″ (Yes, Heaven’s zip code is Bea Arthur’s born day and that’s no coincidence) for not inviting her brother and the human equivalent of STAINS, James Haven, to her wedding, because it turns out he was at her wedding and sat in the front row. Earth, that’s your cue to start spinning again.
When E! News squirted out details of St. Angie Jolie and Brad Pitt’s wedding in France, they said that mutated white dog turd Jon Voight wasn’t there, because he wasn’t invited, but they didn’t say anything about James Haven. But this morning, Lainey posted scans from Brangie’s wedding spread in Hello! and there was the bulgey-eyed distinguished salamander standing in the front row and looking off into the distance, because he knew that if he laid his Slinky Dink eyes on St. Angie, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to suck the bride’s face and he wanted to save that move for when they danced to the “Flowers In The Attic” theme song during the reception.
E! claims that Shiloh and the boys of the Child Army wore cream linen suits and I knew that had to be wrong, because the child army would never dress like a Southern grandpa going to Easter service. Instead, they dressed up like a cross between Justin Timberlake during his copy + paste Robin Thicke phase and Amish businessmen.
And here’s a pic of Maddox and Shiloh getting the giggles during the ceremony.
They’re either laughing because they know their parents are about to bring the grossness by doing kissing stuff or they got contact stoned from standing so close to Brad Pitt. Or Maddox is laughing because he just looked at his mom’s mess of a dress and spotted the doodle he drew of a single tear falling into a bowl of cake batter (a wink to his former arch rival Aniston).
And here’s Brad giving you Weekend At Bernie’s chic while leaving a hotel in NYC on Sunday.
Behold, St. Angie Jolie’s Wedding Dress Which Is Now The Most Important Religious Artifact Of All-Time
Before pictures of St. Angie Jolie and Brad Pitt’s holy wedding grace the first pages of the Holy Bible, they were gracious enough to lease the pictures to People and Hello! for their final issues. I say “final issues,” because People and Hello! are going out of business since they spent all their money on this shit.
Because St. Angie Jolie and Brad Pitt are HIGHLY protective of their personal lives and are the epitome of private, they sold their wedding pictures to People and Hello! and spit out details about the dress that has surpassed Jan Crouch’s soft-serve cotton candy dump hair as history’s greatest religious artifact. St. Angie Jolie tells People that her wedding dress was designed by family friend Luigi Massi, the head tailor at Atelier Versace. If St. Angie wanted a dress that looked like it was marked “irregular” and came from the “take it, just take it for free” bin at a David’s Bridal, then it’s absolutely perfect. To make the dress even more personal, Luigi sewed drawings made by the child army into the dress and veil.
“Luigi is like family to me and I couldn’t imagine anyone else making this dress,” says Jolie. “He knows and cares for the children and it was great fun putting it together.”
She looks like she’s wearing a tablecloth from Romano’s Macaroni Grill after a bunch of kids doodled all over it with crayons. I just want to pull up a chair next to her dress and order some house wine and fettuccine alfredo. With that being said, I’m sure workers are currently removing Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, because they’re going to replace it with St. Angie’s dress.
And here’s Brad and St. Angie sucking face on Hello!
All I see is HAAAAAAAAAAAND.
Every religion issued a joint statement today saying that August 23rd is now the holiest holiday of the year (Sorry, Christmas! Sorry, Yom Kippur! Sorry, Eid al-Fitr! Sorry, Bea Arthur’s birthday!), because the holiest couple in history became husband and wife in the holiest union of the century and everybody who witnessed that blessed event has been declared a saint (“Um, but I was declared a saint as soon as I was pulled out of my mom’s bony snatch.” – Shiloh). But one trick who wasn’t declared a saint was Jon Voight, because Jon Voight wasn’t there and he found out about it when we all did. Jon Voight was being interviewed by Inside Edition this morning and the reporter talking to him told him the news that his daughter married her third husband and the only thing he had to say was, “That’s nice.” You know your daughter hates you more than she hates wearing a color that’s not black or beige when you find out about her wedding from an Inside Edition reporter. Not even Entertainment Tonight! Inside Edition!
If you were praying to God on Saturday for whatever reason and wondering why it felt like nobody was on the other line, it’s because God was doing better things. God was busy giving away his successor at her wedding. AP spit this out on Twitter this morning:
Okay, God and all the saints didn’t walk St. Angie down the aisle, but Maddox and Pax did, which is the next best thing. Here’s the only details we know so far. I’m sure new details will be printed into the newest edition of the Bible and the pictures will appear in stained glass form on the windows of Notre-Dame Cathedral:
Jolie and Pitt wed Saturday in a small chapel in a private ceremony attended by family and friends. In advance of the nondenominational civil ceremony, Pitt and Jolie also obtained a marriage license from a local California judge. The judge also conducted the ceremony in France.
The couple’s children took part in the wedding. Jolie walked the aisle with her eldest sons Maddox and Pax. Zahara and Vivienne threw petals. Shiloh and Knox served as ring bearers, the spokesman says.
Brad Pitt said a million years ago that he and St. Angie wouldn’t get married until everyone could get married. This means that gay marriage must be legal EVERYWHERE. Thank you, Brangelina! Thank you!
While Brad Pitt was shooting Fury in England and polluting the skies above Britain with musky clouds of foreskin butter and butt jelly fumes , St. Angie Jolie was all the way in Australia directing the Louis Zamperini biopic Unbroken. You’d think that if Brad Pitt wanted to communicate with St. Angie’s ass, he’d just go to the nearest church, put his hands together and ask her assistant God to patch her through. But St. Angie tells Australia’s TV Week Magazine (via E!) that her and Brad’s love is an old-fashioned, timeless kind of love and they didn’t talk through sext messages or Skype or emails. They’d write love letters to each other and they’d role play while doing so. Angie would dip her bony finger in an inkwell and scribble out a letter to Brad as though she was an old-timey actress in the Pacific theater and he was an old-timey actor in the European theater and they weren’t modern-day famous millionaires who could make a private jet appear just by saying “I want a private jet to appear.” St. Angie is telling us this, because she wants to remind us all that they’re Romeo and Juliet if Romeo was a greasy billy goat whose potent weed farts could get a hippo stoned and if Juliet was a vampire saint who stored the youth of babies in her forehead vein. Angie spit this out by her and Brad’s ~romantic~ letter writing:
“He was supportive from a distance and it was quite romantic in a way. We decided to be of that time when we could imagine he was in the European theatre and I was in the Pacific theater and we wrote hand-written letters to each other that were very connecting for us, thinking of the people that were separated for months if not years at a time back then.”
What’s surprising is that Brad’s letters from England got to St. Angie in Australia. Brad’s 100% THC sweat probably dripped all over that letter and it’s weird that a postal worker didn’t think that something in the envelope was the good shit when their dog’s nose exploded while sniffing it. Brad can easily send a weed-soaked letter in the mail and yet I get in trouble when I try to FedEx a bag of the good shit from California to whatever hotel I’m staying at in a different state (No, I have never done that, yet).
If for whatever reason, Brangie loses their zillions, they can always get it back and then some by selling those letters. Every Brangeloonie would do and sell anything to get their hands and other parts around those letters. A rolled-up letter handwritten by St. Angie would replace that W Magazine cover as the only paper dildo they need in their life.
St. Angie Jolie Threatens To Sue The Daily Mail Over A 15-Year-Old Video Of Her “Strung Out On Heroin”
St. Angie Jolie is joining George Clooney behind the handball court on the playground where they’ll both wait for The Daily Mail to walk on by so they can jump that bitch’s ass for talking shit about them. This week, The National Enquirer published stills from a 15-year-old video of a BS (before sainthood) Angelina Jolie looking like a malnourished, drowned, beat down subway rat while talking on the phone in her NYC apartment. The National Enquirer claimed that Angie Jo was “strung out” on heroin and coke and was pacing around her “drug den.” The Daily Mail posted the story and the video, and now St. Angie is reportedly coming after them for doing so. St. Angie is probably going after The Daily Mail instead of the Enquirer, because it’s easier to sue for crap like that in the UK and now that she’s a Dame she can ask THE QUEEN to destroy The Daily Mail and feed them to her Corgis.
Former NYC drug dealer Franklin Meyer sold the video to the Enquirer and he claims he shot it during one of his many visits to her apartment. Franklin says he delivered heroin and coke to her apartment three times a week and sometimes he’d watch her snort it up. During one drop off, Franklin filmed her having a riveting conversation about thrilling topics like mortgages with her dad Jon Voight. Everyone knows that before St. Angie put together her child army and became the God that God looks to for inspiration, she loved the bad shit and regularly chased the tail of a dragon. So even if the video showed her injecting heroin into her ass lips, it would still be as shocking as a newly surfaced video of Kim Kardashian lazily sucking a black dick. But the boring video is nothing but a jacked up St. Angie pacing back and forth while having a boring conversation with her dad.
Even though the video is nothing and not really worth suing over, St. Angie is thinking about getting her lawyers to throw a lawsuit at The Daily Mail. That’s what the Times of London claims anyway. via HuffPo UK:
Angelina Jolie has reportedly begun legal action against the Daily Mail for publishing a video it claims showed her while she was addicted to heroin in the 1990s.
The newspaper suggested the footage, taken from the National Enquirer, featured a conversation between Jolie and her father Jon Voight about her brother James and late mother Marcheline Bertrand.
The Times writes Jolie is believed to regard the publication of the video as a gross violation of her privacy.
In case you missed it and care, here’s the video of a Sun-In-haired Angie in her sleazy drug den, which looks a million times nicer than most of the NYC apartments I lived in.
At first I thought that maybe St. Angie Jolie has a case, because The Daily Mail said she was strung out on heroin in the video and yes she’s got heroin hair, eyes and arms, but there’s no concrete proof. But then I got to the 1:34 mark in the video and found their concrete proof. St. Angie was obviously strung out on heroin and others kind of bad shit when this video was filmed, because nobody in their right mind would ignore a movie starring Winnie Cooper and Jonathan Brandis!
And I forgot how big cordless phones were back then. I’m surprised I never used a cordless phone antenna as a starter dildo.
St. Angie and the child army have landed in Tokyo for the Japanese premiere of Maleficent, but I get the feeling they’ll end up cancelling the whole thing, since no 90-minute movie can compete with watching the twin messiahs walk through the airport. How do you say “This is the happiest day of my life” in Japanese? I bet they heard that 89,000 times from the arrival gate to baggage claim.
I hope Pope Francis doesn’t have any long-term plans for Castle Jesus like building a moat or remodelling the kitchen, because it looks like his time in Vatican City is limited now that Knox Jolie-Pitt is old enough to walk, smile, wave, and beam rays of pure blessed light. Fortunately, Pope Francis only has to worry about losing his job to one of the messiahs; Vivienne Jolie-Pitt has no time for waving and smiling or blessing people. Besides, she’s more interested in taking over the family business by becoming a Saint, like her mother.
And for those of you questioning whether or not the chosen ones are getting a bit old to be carrying around baby blankies, those aren’t actually blankies. They’re detachable angel wings (it just makes things easier when you’re going through security).
Here’s more of the holy family gracing the lucky people of Tokyo with their flawless perfection this morning. If you live in Japan and you see everyone dumping maneki-nekos into the trash, it’s because they’re being replaced with ceramic figures of Knox waving.
Before St. Angie puts the child army to bed after a long day of jet-setting across the globe and shopping at toy stores, she summons them all 6 of her precious angels into her bedroom, wrapping each one in a warm blanket of pure light, and gathering together on the bed for a story. And according to Us Weekly, the child army has no time for basic shit like Babar or Hop on Pop; they beg to hear the tale of how St. Angie turned her luminous skin into a magnificent inked tapestry:
“They are obsessed with her tattoos and always ask what they mean,” the insider tells Us, adding that Jolie is “happy to explain her tats to the kids.” (Among the 13 designs is an etching of the birth coordinates for each of her children, who were born all over the world, in Cambodia, Vietnam, Ethiopia, Namibia, and France.)
The source notes that Shiloh is especially fascinated by her mom’s ink. And Pax is already eager to get his own. “Angie tells him he has plenty of time,” the insider says.
The source then went on to explain that the child army aren’t as obsessed with the random assortment of messy tattoos that live on their father (the following quote may or may not have been made up by myself while staring at this picture of Brad Pitt):
Whenever the child army showers St. Angie with attention by marvelling at her tattoos, Brad will put down his bong, suck the Funyuns residue off his fingers, and pull off the sweat-stained henley he’s been wearing for 4 days to remind the kids that “Mama ain’t the only one with some sick tats, right kids?”
Typically Zahara will be the first to shout at him to put his shirt back on, followed by Shiloh demanding he take a shower (“With soap this time!”), and Pax asking his mother: “Is that really a tattoo of a mummy??? Oh my god, you truly are a saint for sticking with this guy.”