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.
After terrorizing Times Square by ruining Cabaret for everyone and trying to snatch away a homeless guy’s hat, Shia LaBeouf decided that going the Amanda Bynes way wasn’t the way, so he stopped with all the fuckery and checked into an outpatient rehab facility in L.A. where apparently he cleansed his veins of the sweet nectar and the bad shit. Shia is sober now, and this time, he hopes to stay strapped into the wagon and isn’t even looking out the window. TMZ says that Shia is taking his sobriety seriously and one of the main reasons why he wants to keep his lips off of the bottle is because in a few months he’ll start a great, big promo tour for his movie Fury and he doesn’t want to embarrass his co-star Brad Pitt by acting like a drunken fool.
Some source tells TMZ (“Maddox, what did I tell you about feeding fake shit to TMZ?” – Maddox’s nanny) that the thought of shaming Brad Pitt during their promo tour is keeping Shia sober.
I’ve never had a problem with booze (‘Bitch, the first step is admitting you’re a drunk slut.” – you), but I’m sure that staying sober isn’t easy, so anything that helps a ho to stay booze-free is a good thing. With that being said, Shia should know that it’s impossible for him to embarrass Brad Pitt at a premiere. Brad Pitt is going to be so stoned that he’s not going to know what’s going on around him. Shia could drunkenly stumble onto the red carpet and spit at all of his co-stars and hump a reporter before losing a boxing match to a potted plant, and Brad Pitt wouldn’t notice any of it, because he’d be too busy having a deep, intellectual conversation about architecture with the wall.
But seriously, St. Angie Jolie just pulled off her halo and put it over Brad Pitt’s greasy, flea-ridden head. Today, Brad Pitt is the saint of the family. I mean, Brad Pitt helps drunks stay sober just by being Brad Pitt.
Here’s Shia working his signature “dirty, hitchhiking hipster” look while leaving a house in L.A. yesterday.
Not only did St. Angie Jolie meet fellow home wrecking legend Duchess Camilla in London today (Side note: What in Little House on the Prairie cosplay HELL is Camilla wearing?), but she also got honored by THE QUEEN! St. Angie’s in London to co-host the week-long Global Summit to End Sexual Violence in Conflict and since she was there, THE QUEEN figured that she might as well throw an honor her way since God, Jesus, all the apostles, the Academy, and pretty much everybody else on Earth has already honored her. I don’t know if there was a ceremony or anything, but I doubt, because THE QUEEN would rather spend her time doing other things like watching screeners of the upcoming season of TOWIE while eating melted ice cream in her underwear.
After St. Angie was named an honorary Dame by THE QUEEN for services to UK foreign policy and campaigning to end sexual violence in war zones, she released this statement:
“To receive an honour related to foreign policy means a great deal to me, as it is what I wish to dedicate my working life to. Working on PVSI and with survivors of rape is an honour in itself. I know that succeeding in our goals will take a lifetime, and I am dedicated to it for all of mine.”
St. Angie’s not a British citizen, so she can’t be called a Dame, but like she gives a shit. She’s already got the title of SAINT!
Daniel Day-Lewis is now Sir Daniel Day-Lewis, because he was knighted. Maggie Smith and Damian Lewis were also honored.
St. Angie is already Queen of the Saints and the Moon and the Stars, so it was only a matter of time before she became a Dame (in spirit at least). But what I want to know is, where are the priorities of the people who chooses the next Dames and Sirs? I mean, how is it possible that Maggie Smith, Daniel Day-Lewis, St. Angie Jolie and dozens of others are honored by THE QUEEN and England’s greatest treasure and finest rose Jodie Marsh isn’t? Jodie Marsh should be a three-time Dame for her contribution to British elegance and grace. People should be rioting in the streets over that shit.
Here’s more pictures of St. Angie meeting Camilla and also some pictures of St. Angie and
Robert Evans Brad Pitt at an End Sexual Violence in Conflict event.
St. Angie Jolie is in London for the Global Summit to End Sexual Violence in Conflict and during an interview with BBC Radio’s Women’s Hour (via HuffPo), the interviewer brought up that scene (SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! And just because I want to type it on more time, SPOILER ALERT!) in Maleficent where she gets roofied by the one human she trusts and wakes up to find that he cut her wings off. If that scene made you want to pull out your rape whistle and call 911, it was supposed to.
St. Angie says Maleficent’s screenwriter Linda Woolverton needed a good reason for why Maleficent, a good fairy who was always dressed like she was on her way to the red faire, would want to get revenge against the humans and curse a baby. Hey, here’s an idea, maybe Maleficent is just evil for the hell of it and she cursed that baby, because cursing babies is fun! But since it’s Disney and they had to give Maleficent a heart made of daisy petals and kitten tears or else parents wouldn’t buy her action figure for their kids at The Disney Store, they gave her a tragic backstory. St. Angie put it like this:
“The question was asked: ‘What could make a woman become so dark and lose all sense of her maternity, her womanhood, and her softness?’ Something would have to be so violent and aggressive and so of course for us, we were very conscious, the writer and I, that it was a metaphor for rape. And that this would be the thing that would make her lose sight of that. And then at a certain point, the question of the story is ‘what could bring her back?’ And again it is an extreme Disney, fun version of it, but at the core it is abuse, and how the abused then have a choice of abusing others or overcoming and remaining loving, open people.”
Okay, but when is St. Angie going to explain her and Sharlto Copley’s tragic accents?
Linda Woolverton might’ve gotten the rape metaphor idea from the original Sleeping Beauty. In the original Sleeping Beauty fairytale, Sleeping Beauty gets raped by the prince while she’s in a curse coma, gets knocked up with twins and the feeling of twins coming out of her wakes her up. It’s the perfect bedtime story to read to your kids!
Since Maleficent put a mountain of money in Disney’s pockets, they’re also doing another Cruella de Vil movie and Cinderella comes out next year. So I’m guessing that in Cinderella, the evil stepmother becomes an evil bitch of a mess who hates Cinderella after she gets raped by a group of maids. And in the Cruella de Vil movie, Cruella de Vil becomes a puppy-hating demon after she gets raped by a bunch of Dalmatian puppies. Etc.. etc…
And here’s St. Angie and pimp-looking ass Brad Pitt at an exhibit at the End Sexual Violence in Conflict conference today.
At the Hollywood premiere of Disney’s kinder and gentler Maleficent, the Ukrainian “prankster” (read: asshole) who is a stubborn crab on Hollywood’s crotch jumped the barricade and got on Brad Pitt’s Burt-Reynolds-in-Boogie-Nights looking ass. Everyone said that Vitalii Sediuk punched Brad in the face and broke his 70s porn producer glasses. Jennifer Aniston raised a tequila shot and toasted to the Ukraine when she heard that. But in a statement of words to People, Brad says that Vitalii tried to do to him what he did to Bradley Cooper and Leonardo DiCatchAHo. Vitalli tried to get a face full of Pitt crotch. Brad punched that trick in the head, because the only thing that gets close to his dick is St. Angie Jolie’s hypnotic puss and maybe George Clooney’s greased up hand when he’s stoned.
“I was at the end of the line signing autographs, when out the corner of my eye I saw someone stage-diving over the barrier at me. I took a step back; this guy had latched onto my lapels. I looked down and the nutter was trying to bury his face in my crotch, so I cracked him twice in the back of the head – not too hard – but enough to get his attention, because he did let go. I think he was then just grabbing for a hand hold because the guys were on him, and he reached up and caught my glasses.
I don’t mind an exhibitionist, but if this guy keeps it up he’s going to spoil it for the fans who have waited up all night for an autograph or a selfie, because it will make people more wary to approach a crowd. And he should know, if he tries to look up a woman’s dress again, he’s going to get stomped.”
A judge sentenced Vitalli to 20 days of community service, 36 months probation and he has to stay away from the Staples Center, where the Grammys go down, and the Dolby Theater, where the Oscars go down.
What’s really surprising is that when Vitalli put his face on Brad Pitt’s crotch, he didn’t immediately choke and pass out after inhaling a thick, moist cloud of peen cheese. And may the entire child army slap Brad Pitt’s ass for using the word “selfie.”