Yes, Anna Wintour is continuing to slowly hammer away at the very long final nail in American Vogue’s coffin by putting another Kartrashain on the cover, but I do have to give a slow clap to that demonic demon for paying tribute to Kim Kardashian’s early fame whore days by making it look like Ray J is pissing all over her. Well played, Anna!
Beyond the golden showers cover, Vogue’s Jonathan Van Meter talks to Kim at her house, which sounds as vapid and empty as her, a Mexican restaurant, and the Koven’s headquarters (a bunch of Calabasas condos that have been converted to their offices). Most of the interview is about her re-branding from soulless, superficial mannequin with a hot air balloon ass to a soulless, superficial mannequin with a hot air balloon ass who really, really cares about prison reform.
Here is excellent news for all of you nasty true crime freaks that have run out of episodes of Forensic Files and Cold Justice to lull you to sleep night after night. The OG king of the crime shows, Unsolved Mysteries, is getting the reboot treatment. Netflix has announced that it has picked up twelve episodes of the show that made us kids of the 80s and 90s fear windowless vans and invitations to pet strangers’ kittens with the promise of candy. But will it really be Unsolved Mysteries if they can’t bring Robert Stack and his creepy as shit deadpan delivery back from the dead?
It’s a good thing I follow several Kardashians on Instagram, otherwise that screen grab of an artificially-lipped creature in such close proximity to an over-inflated rubber ball might have really scared me.
The first official teaser trailer for the Warner Bros. remake of Stephen King’s It was released today. It comes out on September 8th. That gives people enough time for their chewed-down nails to grow back before they chew them down again. The 1990 TV movie version of It, starring Tim Curry, launched a generation of clown phobias. And I got a major case of the creeps when I saw that picture of Bill Skarsgard as Pennywise. But based on the trailer for New It, I don’t think I’ll need to sleep with too many lights on after I watch it. 2 or 3, max.
We should’ve known in January 2016 that the year was going to be a real disaster when it was announced that month that Joseph Fiennes was playing Michael Jackson in a British TV production. That bit of fuckery was foreshadowing and we should’ve saged the rest of the calendar when we had the chance.
My brain protected my soul by forgetting that news, but I was reminded today when UK’s Sky Arts shat up the terrifying first trailer for Urban Myths. Urban Myths features stories from the past that may not be true and it includes the magical one about how Elizabeth Taylor, Michael Jackson and Marlon Brando drove from NYC to Ohio in a rental car after the 9/11 attacks. In Urban Myths, Stockard Channing plays Liz and Brian Cox plays Brando. This train wreck also features a story about Hitler (played by Iwan Rheon) and his friend (played by Rupert Grint). Grab a jumbo-sized vat of holy water and press play:
Those prosthetics look like expired homemade playdough and the guy who plays the cop deserves a million awards for this. Because he was able to say the line, “Michael?“, instead of running for the nearest church after taking in the sight of what looks like a deranged Team America puppet of Criss Angel that was sculpted from an old vanilla candle. This is obviously satire, because there’s no way that cop would look at that nose and say, “Michael?” That nose is way too big. Shameful.
You know who’s really the devil? Yes, I am for calling that dried crotch cherry “Canada’s Jesus.” But the devil also lives in the stylist who put that look together. Justin Bieber looks like a Quints-fied Jeffrey Dahmer mixed with some Stanley Tucci in Lovely Bones and a drop of Terry Richardson. He looks like a child-touching child. That picture should come with a whistle and some holy water.
Instagram used to be one of the many churches where crazed Beliebers could worship their idol, but on August 16, 2016, a light in their life went out when he left IG. Since the Biebs is a toddler gremlin who feeds off of social media likes, I thought that he’d bring his page back from the dead eventually, but he hasn’t yet. And during a show in London last night, he dribbled out a Kanye-like sermon about the evils of Instagram.
If Charmed, Charlie’s Angeles and Wilson Phillips taught us anything, it’s that the power of 3 is unstoppable! So all of us peasants better spend our last few moments of freedom wearing color and smiling, because we’ll be banned from doing both of those things when the Trinity of Olsen Unholiness takes over the world. Half of us will be thrown into a factory where we’ll be forced to make our new overlords handmade cigarettes using French rolling papers, tobacco and the ashes of those who dared defy them! The other half of us will be thrown into a factory where we’ll be forced to hand-stitch panther hide caftans for our new leaders and their fellow evil-hearted rich friends. (I hope that whichever factory I’m thrown into, I’m assigned a spot next to Kimmy Gibbler so she can give me all the details of the Trollsens’ rise from cutesy toddlers to dictator gnomes.) When that happens, remember these pictures that served as a warning for the impending Olsen takeover!
At last night’s CFDA Awards in NYC, Elizabeth Olsen got sandwiched between Doom and Gloom as they all posed for pictures on the red carpet. Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen did themselves up like 1970s Santa Monica fortune tellers whose clients can always be seen going into their storefront but are never seen coming out. They did their sister/dark priestess-in-training up as an overgrown Ariana Grande Latte at a seance full of witches who buy all their clothes at White House|Black Market. What I’m trying to say is that the three of them together are more terrifying than the Macbeth witches!
But maybe there’s hope. In most of the pictures, Elizabeth Olsen is smiling and there’s a sparkle in her eye that I don’t think is from thinking about how she’s going to cackle into the night sky as she hears the pained cries of the mortals. I know, I’m trying to fool myself. She’s totally one of them now. I better learn how to sew.