Of Mice And Men starring STUNT QUEEN and douche of all trades James Franco opened on Broadway last night and this morning, in the same Instagram breath, he posted a link to the thumbs up review from Variety and then slapped at theater critic Ben Brantley of The New York Times for panning the show. The scattered hairs on James’ b-hole nearly burned off when he channeled the asshole spirits of Kanye West and Alec Baldwin to punch out this little love note to Ben Brantley (which he later deleted). via @rilaws (via Vulture)
How rude and mean! If I was Ben Brantley, I would be highly offended. I mean, a “little bitch“? Who wants to be a “little bitch.” Everyone should strive to be a mega bitch at least. Ben Brantley needs to step up his bitchiness so no asshole ever calls him a “little bitch” again.
Ben’s review of James’ performance wasn’t even that bad. It’s not like he said that James is as bad at theater acting as he is at trying to pick up barely legal ass on Instagram. Early in the review, Ben said James has a “brooding beautiful” face and you’d think that’d make his ego cum, but he was stuck on this instead:
Though he sports a Yosemite Sam accent, Mr. Franco is often understated to the point of near invisibility. It’s a tight, internal performance begging for a camera’s close-up. And only in the play’s second scene — in a bunkhouse, where Lennie retells George about the dream farm they’ll someday own together — did I sense a warming current of affection between the characters.
“It’s a tight, internal performance begging for a camera’s close-up….” When James Franco does gay porn, which he will in the name of HIGH ART, a porn reviewer will say the exact same thing about his asshole.
The best part of Ben’s review is this:
Though Mr. Franco musters a single, perfect tear for the play’s tragic climax, I only came close to shedding one. That was in the first act, when a dog (a real one) is led offstage to be shot because it stinks. That dog seemed to have true fear and bewilderment in its eyes. It felt, well, human, in a way none of the people did, and my heart sank when I knew it wouldn’t be coming back.
AHAHAHAHAHAAAAA! The dog got a better review than James Franco. I almost want to fly to NYC just to see this, because I’m sure I would get high off of the smoke coming out of James’ ears when during curtain call, the crowd stands up and throws bouquets of milk bones at the dog.
Here’s James Franco, Chris O’Dowd and Blair Waldorf at the Of Mice And Men after-party and they really kept themselves together as the photographers screamed, “But where’s THE DOG?!”
I made the mistake of watching some of the live-feed of Lady CaCa’s performance at SXSW last night and I closed my laptop after about 15 minutes and watched House Hunters International instead, because if I wanted to see a dirty crackhead flail around while incoherently spewing shit about art and the death of pop music, I’d take the subway in NYC at 4am. Actually, at any time of the day. Yes, CaCa is stealing from subway crackies now.
During “Swine,” CaCa played the drums while professional barfist Millie Brown, who’s been called the barfing Jackson Pollock, drank soy milk dyed bright green from a plastic bottle. This is Millie’s thing. She’s known for spewing colored vomit on canvases. So while looking like Brooke Candy as one of the Matrix Twins, CaCa leaned back and let Millie puke out Slimer’s piss all over her. CaCa has said before that she was bulimic as a teenager, so getting barfed on for the sake of shocking hos was a really good idea. (“Choke on your own rotting shit, you diseased old cow, she’s obviously using art to work through the issues and demons that have haunted her!” – every Little Monster to me)
Because CaCa and Millie weren’t done grossing everyone out, they took their raver exorcism act to a mechanical bull and kept the puke antics coming. ART!
Well, it could’ve been worse. CaCa could’ve sang “Do What U Want” while her best friend Uncle Terry jacked off on her face and her former collaborator R. Kelly pissed on her stomach. But I guess that would’ve been reductive.
And Doritos, who sponsored CaCa’s set, should really ask for their money back. That barf should’ve been burnt orange instead of bright green. Totally off brand.
Meth might’ve eaten Aaron Carter’s face and any dignity he had in his being, but it didn’t eat the undying love he feels for Hilary Duff. Hilary and Aaron “dated” when they were just 13 years old and that was over 14 years ago, but every night he blasts “Come Clean,” crawls into his Lizzie McGuire sleeping bag and as he stares at the photo collage of her he pasted onto his ceiling, he faps while crying. My thoughts and prayers go out to Aaron Carter’s neighbors who every night have to block out the sound of him fap-crying while screaming out the lyrics to “Come Clean.”
Aaron has let it be known on Twitter before that he wants Hilary Duff back. And yesterday, the Romeo of Florida once again figuratively threw tiny rocks at Hilary Duff’s bedroom window when he re-tweeted a picture of her and then spilled out this declaration of love, which will later be used in court when Hilary Duff tries to get a restraining order against his ass.
Don’t be that stupid douche that loses the love of your life forever..
I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to better myself to get back to her.
I don’t care what ANY of you think.
That tweet just gave me an anxiety attack
..people who have no idea who I am and/or what I’ve been through.
If you’re that interested watch my interviews or google me.
At least I’m real and don’t hide behind the persona of being a celebrity and an entertainer, &try to portray positive feelings all the time
On a lighter note it’s almost Easter and I want tons of candy to eat!!
Lindsay Lohan probably DMed Aaron with, “Aw, I never stopped loving you either, got any coke?” But Aaron told one of his followers that he was talking about his childhood girlfriend Hilary Duff.
If you think it’s creepy that Aaron is still slobbering over a girl he dated when he was 13, then you’re obviously the kind of monster who shits on true love and stabs cherubs for fun. Because true love will always prevail! 50 years from now, Aaron will be laughing at all the haters who thought he was a creepy motherfucker while cuddling on the couch with his wife of 49 years Hilary Duff as they watch their grandchildren play on the rug. You know, I think I just described the scene that Aaron is going to daydream about in his jail cell after the cops catch him licking Hilary Duff’s dirty panties in her bedroom.
And welcome to your future, Justin and Selena.
Riccardo Tisci, Givenchy’s creative director and the genius fashion troll responsible for doing Kim Kartrashian up like a Laura Ashley sausage casing, spilled out a caca river of ridiculousness that is so delusional that if any of us said it our family members would drop a giant net over our bodies and drag us off to a padded room somewhere. A few months ago, Kanye Kardashian (née West) went Defcon level 1 when he declared his plastic Just My Size dress-up doll as the Marilyn Monroe of our time. Well, there’s an echo in Fame Whore Valley, because the trick who shares a Best Friends Forever necklace with Kanye said the same thing to The Sunday Times (via E! Online). While his tongue was pressed firmly up against Kanye’s freshly waxed asshole, Riccardo Tisci managed to say this:
“I met her as the girlfriend of a good friend. I just wanted a moment with her to understand—and I fell in love. She’s the Monroe of our age. People think she’s like a doll, but actually she’s tough and clever.
It’s not so much the beauty of people, but the talent, the roots and the intelligence that concern me. I love people who are not scared to fight for their own rights and have their own point of view. The world is big: the music world is big, the art world is big and the fashion world is big, but I think you can recognize a tribe in the similarity of people.”
If Riccardo Tisci’s friends and family truly cared about him, they’ll tell him that is not something you say out loud in public. If you have to say it, it’s only something you say into Kanye’s ear while spooning on a gold-beaded mink bedspread below a mirrored ceiling. Riccardo must be suffering from stage 10 dickmatization and the only cure is to immediately stop and callate la boca.
And a Botox-filled melting wax mannequin that wears whatever fugness her fiancé tells her to wear is definitely a ho I’d describe as not being afraid to “fight for her own rights.”
Here’s Kim looking like a curdled cream puff while walking from Kanye’s apartment to the car in NYC yesterday.
Pro tip: If you haven’t completely numbed your mind yet by injecting pure caffeine into your eyeballs, then skip Alec Baldwin’s “BYE BITCH” essay in New York Magazine and just watch a GIF of him wah-wah-wah-ing on a loop, because that pretty much sums it up. It’s hard out there for an Alec Baldwin.
In a 5 million word essay for a media publication, Alec Baldwin squats and shits on the media (including Anderson Cooper, Harvey Levin and Rachel Maddow) and says that he’s done with the paparazzi-ridden NYC and is moving to the quiet, un-fame-whore-y, private and paparazzi-free land known as Los Angeles. Alec Baldwin moving to L.A. to get away from the paparazzi is like Alec Baldwin saying he’s done with public life by putting a close-up of his face on the cover of a public ass magazine.
Alec starts off by writing that after Harvey Levin of TMZ put the slur “faggot” in his mouth and some labeled him as a goat-footed wheezy old homophobe, he went to Hawaii to do a movie and while he was there he met with two LGBT organizations. They talked about hate speech against gay people and I guess Alec learned a lot, because he called one of them a tranny.
One young man, an F-to-M tranny, said, “Are you here to get dry-cleaned, like Brett Ratner?” Meaning I could do some mea culpa, write them a six-figure check, go to a dinner, sob at the table, give a heartfelt speech, beg for forgiveness. I thought to myself: Beg for forgiveness for something I didn’t do?
I said, “No. I don’t want to get dry-cleaned. I don’t want to be decontaminated by you, Karen Silkwood–wise, scrubbed down. I want to learn about what is hurtful speech in your community. I want to participate in some programs about that. Or underwrite one. And then, like you, I just want to be left alone.”
Alec then goes on to fart about how he’s campaigned for marriage equality and is a strong supporter for the gay community and that he’s far from being a homophobe. Alec says that he never spit out the word “faggot,” but he did call that pap a “cocksucking motherfucker” for following his wife and causing her to fall. After The Silver Fox (whom he calls “ the self-appointed Jack Valenti of gay media culture“) and Andrew Sullivan came after him, MSNBC canceled his show.
In the recent video, you see me completely riled up and going after this guy and you hear me saying “cocksucker” and then some bisyllabic word that sounds like “faggot”—but wasn’t. Still, it doesn’t matter. glaad comes after me and Anderson Cooper comes after me and Andrew Sullivan comes after me, all maintaining that I’m a hateful homophobe. All based on what Harvey Levin told them.
Immediately prior to this, I’d go see Phil (the head of MSNBC) and I’d say, “What are the ratings?” If I had 15 meetings with Phil Griffin, 5 of them were after the show, with me saying, “What do you make of these ratings?” He’d say, “Don’t worry. It takes time.” (We beat Cooper two of three Fridays at ten.) Although he appeared to have some buyer’s remorse, he told me to hang in there. After the TMZ event, he said, “Don’t worry. I have to suspend you. But this will blow over.” I have all the emails to prove it. And then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, MSNBC said, “You’re fired.”
Now, Alec hates the media, is over Manhattan, and is done with public life.
I probably have to move out of New York. I just can’t live in New York anymore. Everything I hated about L.A. I’m beginning to crave. L.A. is a place where you live behind a gate, you get in a car, your interaction with the public is minimal. I used to hate that. But New York has changed. Manhattan is like Beverly Hills. And the soul of New York has moved to Brooklyn, where everything new and exciting seems to be. I have to accept that. I want my newest child to have as normal and decent a life as I can provide. New York doesn’t seem the place for that anymore.
It’s good-bye to public life in the way that you try to communicate with an audience playfully like we’re friends, beyond the work you are actually paid for. Letterman. Saturday Night Live. That kind of thing. I want to go make a movie and be very present for that and give it everything I have, and after we’re done, then the rest of the time is mine. I started out as an actor, where you seek to understand yourself using the words of great writers and collaborating with other creative people. Then I slid into show business, where you seek only an audience’s approval, whether you deserve it or not. I think I want to go back to being an actor now.
There’s a way I could have done things differently. I know that. If I offended anyone along the way, I do apologize. But the solution for me now is: I’ve lived this for 30 years, I’m done with it.
I was going to say that bitch should move to Brooklyn then, but I love Brooklyn too much to wish that upon it. So damn dramatic. Alec really needs to learn from Steven Slater and Inetta the Moodsetta. Keep your goodbye simple and to the point. Let out an “I QUIT THIS BITCH” or slide down the inflatable yellow exit slide while waving. Or Alec could’ve pulled a Shia LaDouche and put a paper bag over his head.
Whatever, let’s all wave goodbye to Alec as he leaves public life. And I hope he’s taking his insufferable, downward dogging fame whore wife with him.
Oh, L.A. locals news, where the lady anchors are always done up like they’re on their way to Happy Hour at Charley Brown’s Steakhouse (LOCAL REFERENCE ALERT!) and where the “entertainment reporters” think all black dude movie stars look alike.
Sam Rubin has been on KTLA in L.A. since the pile of weed-infused oatmeal in my head can remember and maybe it’s because I only get my entertainment news from George PEENnacchio (LOCAL REFERENCE ALERT, part II!), but I don’t remember him being this embarrassing. But this morning, Sam gave every viewer a severe case of second-hand embarrassment when he mistook the national treasure in a Kangol hat that is Samuel L. Jackson for Montana Fishburne’s daddy. Samuel L. Jackson was on KTLA via satellite to whore out Robocop and during the interview Sam Rubin asked him about his Super Bowl commercial. Samuel L. Jackson didn’t do a Super Bowl commercial, but Laurence Fishburne did one for Kia. The switch in Samuel L. Jackson’s brain flipped to NOT THE ONE and he verbally slapped Sam Rubin down. When Sam Rubin tried to get back up and dust himself off, Samuel L. Jackson kept verbally slapping that bitch down. Call him Laurence Fishburne one more time, Sam!
As Sam’s co-anchors laughed at his ass, Samuel grabbed his hair and dragged that ho:
“You’re as crazy as the people on Twitter. I am not Laurence Fishburne! We don’t all look alike! We may all be black and famous, but we don’t all look alike. You’re the entertainment reporter for this station and you don’t know the difference between me and Laurence Fishburne? There must be a very short line for your job. Oh, HELL NO. Really? Really? I’m the other guy. The other one. What’s in your wallet?”
Samuel L. Jackson didn’t even have to reach through the screen and slap Sam Rubin because Sam Rubin slapped Sam Rubin for him.
After Sam finished dipping his body in a tub full of First Degree burn cream, he went back on air and apologized to Samuel L. Jackson and also spit out a corroded dingle from a bull’s butt when he said that he wasn’t referring to Laurence Fishburne’s commercial for Kia, he was referring to the trailer for Captain America 2 that played during the Super Bowl.
Oh, it’s okay, my mom always confuses Sam Rubin for Piers Morgan and I don’t know which one of them should be more offended.
Paula Deen, Guy Fieri and Brit Brit will all swear to you that you haven’t truly lived life to the fullest of fullest until you’ve pulled all your panties down in front of a Crown Fried Chicken and rubbed yourself while inhaling the delicious scent of fried chicken skins and spicy fries. This dude knows what they’re talking about. On Monday morning in Philadelphia, a bunch of people said to themselves, “Oh, I guess , George Zimmerman is at it again,” when a bald crazy drunk bitch crashed his silver Camry into a Crown Fried Chicken, got out of the car, got naked and put jerk chicken on the menu when he started doing himself in the middle of the street.
Philadelphia Magazine says that at 10:30am on Monday, cops were called to a street corner after three-time DUI-er Vincent Wade from New Jersey crashed his car into a Crown Fried Chicken and then gave everyone a fap show when he started choking his own chicken. After the cops finished pinching their nips at the sight of a delicious drop of deep fried sex shaking his underdone biscuits while jacking off next to a puddle of black sludge, they put on a full-body rubber condom and arrested him for DUI. They released this statement after:
On January 27, 2014, at approximately 10:30 am, police responded to 500 West Lehigh Avenue for an auto accident. Upon their arrival officers observed a vehicle on the curbside of the southwest corner of 5th & Lehigh Avenue. The male operator was seated in the driver’s seat of a 2007 Silver Camry with no shirt on. The male was asked to step out of the vehicle and when he, did the male was unable to stand on his own. His clothes were torn off and he was unable to respond to police questions. Witnesses to the accident stated that the male was operating his vehicle west on Lehigh Avenue and then veered across the intersection at 5th Street and drove on to the curb hitting a fixed object. After the accident,the male operator exited the vehicle and began removing his clothing and yelling. He then attempted to drive off; however, someone was able to remove the keys and hold them until police arrived. The operator was identified as 34 year old ######### from Pennsauken, New Jersey. He was charged with Driving Under the Influence; no injuries reported.
Vince the Chicken Choker wasn’t charged with property damage, because the damage to the Crown Fried Chicken was minimal. He wasn’t charged with indecent exposure, because if the smell of fried chicken and spicy fries doesn’t make you want to rub your genitals, you’re not human. It’s a natural reaction. Of course, there’s video (Philadelphia Mag has the uncensored video if that’s what you need) of this mess and yes, I watched it while listening to Strokin’. Stroke it to the East, stroke it to the West, stroke it to the chicken that he loves best.
Note to self: The next time I’m at a Crown Fried Chicken, tell them to leave the homemade white gravy off of my mashed potatoes, thankyouverymuch.
(Thanks to Mahesha and everybody else who sent this in)
TMZ got a hold of a video of everyone’s least favorite ingrown ass hair Shia LaDouche filling a bar in London with the vomit-inducing scent of boiled douche water by screaming into the face of some dude. Shia, his brow-less girlfriend Mia Goth and Mia’s mother were all at a pub called Hobgoblin in South London tonight when apparently the “some dude” starting talking trash. The dude talked shit about Mia’s mom, so Shia defended her honor by going full Kanye on a trick. (Or does Kanye go full Shia? Developing…) Shia gets in the baldie’s face and screams “What did you just say?” at least 5,834 times while his girlfriend tries to get him to leave. TMZ says that Shia “headbutts” the dude, but if that’s a headbutt then most of us have “headbutted” on a first date. Because if you slow that down while listening to a Foreigner song, it’ll look like he’s going forehead-to-forehead before tongue kissing that dude. That headbutt is as threatening as a kitten pawing the air.
As we all know, Shia pulled another STUNT QUEEN trick recently by dramatically announcing his retirement from public life. After watching this mess of a video, here’s some other things Shia should retire from:
1. Getting drunk in public – Because when he does it he ends up ruining innocent people’s buzzes and he usually gets his ass kicked.
2. Headbutting tricks – Because he’s obviously terrible at doing that.
3. Going out in public – I know this cancels out #1, but he should just stay inside and not go out in public anymore. Bitch just doesn’t know how to act right.
A strange, bizarre and extremely unnatural thing might’ve happened in Beverly Hills today. Kanye Kardashian might’ve punched a trick who deserved it. The end of days are coming.
TMZ says that Kim Kardashian was going into a chiropractor’s office in Beverly Hills today when some 18-year-old kid held the door for her while saying, “Fuck these faggot ass niggers.” No, the 18-year-old piece of trash was not reciting a lyric from Kanye West’s song “Don’t Stop.” He was talking about the paparazzi who were taking pictures of Kim. Kim, being the lady she is, told him it was not okay for him to say “nigger” (but it’s totally okay for him to say “faggot“). The kid shot back at Kim with, “Fuck you bitch. Just trying to help you. Shut up nigger lover, stupid slut.”
The little racist kept shit talking and when Kim called Kanye on the phone for help, he shouted, “Fuck you, nigger!” Kanye was on his way when Kim called and a few minutes later he showed up at the chiropractor’s office, found the little racist and punched him. I know, it’s a shocking turn of events when Kim isn’t the one getting pounded by a black guy. The massage therapist in the office separated Kanye and the little racist while Kim screamed, “We have it all on tape!”
The 18-year-old wants to press charges and the cops want to interview Kanye about it. Kanye could face charges.
Are we sure this isn’t really a Chapelle’s Show skit? Damn.
This whole story is an odd mess. So that 18-year-old just sat in the office waiting to get his ass whooped by Kanye? Why was Kim at the chiropractor anyway? She doesn’t have any bones, joints or human organs. Her insides are filled with nothing but silicone, the blood of Lucifer and that clear soil jelly you buy at the swap meet. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing was staged for their shitty reality show and Pimp Mama Kris was later seen handing the kid a stack of hundreds while saying, “Adding ‘faggot’ was a nice touch. Here’s another $200, kid!”
And here’s Kim and Kanye at Mr. Chow last night.
I thought the picture of the viking vampire demi-god dropping iced butt cubes into a toilet in the South Pole would be the most entertaining picture I posted today, but then this mess came along. This messy picture has everything you want in a messy picture: Michelle Rodriguez slobbering over that vaporizer like it’s a hard black dick and she’s a Kardashian, Cara Delevingne getting stoned courtside (you know there’s a lot of the good shit in there), pro boxer Miguel Cotto throwing a look that says, “I know, son, I know, but stay still and don’t disrupt the Michelle Rodriguez when you see one in the wild,” and that gold medal-winning side-eye from a child. I also love how that red photographer looks like he’s wondering what he should take a picture of when there’s a drunk, stoned, messy lesbian show happening behind him.
Screw the Knicks game! The real entertainment happened courtside in Madison Square Garden last night. The Dominican Puerto Rican train wreck got Doogie Howser drunk and probably got stoned on that good shit before giving the children a show! MRod busted out several plastered faces, licked on the smoke rings that Cara blew out, made out with Cara and in between all of that took a little nap. If this was a game of charades, I’d scream out, “Lindsay Lohan and White Oprah doing a little mother/daughter bonding!”
It was the true definition of mess. I’m surprised the players didn’t stop playing and stand in front of MRod with their hands on their hips while they waited for her to finish. How could they ever compete with the shit show that MRod and Cara served up?
And after they left MSG, MRod kept the foolery going by karate kicking at the paps. Oh, MRod, keeping it sloppy, messy and rage-y as always. I bet you need PTSD counseling after she eats your puss out.
Pics: Getty, AP, Instagram