Sir Ian McKellen is 78 years old. The average life expectancy of a man in the UK is 79.4. So it’s only natural for him to regularly think about the day when a million “Sir Ian McKellen Has Left Us. What Is The Point Of Going On?” headlines pop up after he waltzes with the Grim Reaper up to the heavens. The Independent says that in a new documentary about his life called McKellen: Playing The Part, Sir Ian says that every single day, he thinks about the moment when death takes his ass. Me too, Gandalf, me too. It’s nice to know that when Sir Ian and I both lay awake at night, we think about how one day we’ll be lying in a coffin. Only I think about how the doctors will forget to check that I’m dead dead, and the mortician will forget to embalm me, and I’ll wake up in my coffin and curse my family for not cremating me like I asked! Don’t know if Sir Ian has the same vision or not.
The names Tom Hanks and Mr. Rogers trended on Twitter today, so naturally people hyperventiliated their lungs off while asking themselves the following questions:
- Did Tom Hanks die?
- Did Mr. Rogers die?
- Did The New York Times publish an exposé about how in the 1980s, Tom Hanks and Mr. Rogers ran an underground child porn ring together?
The good news is, Tom Hanks is still alive. The bad news is, Mr. Rogers is still dead. And the better news is that neither of them have been accused of being sick predators. Not yet, anyway. They trended because Tom is playing Mr. Rogers in a biopic called You Are My Friend.
Celine Dion has many skills. She can make a human see the face of every God just by opening up the fountain of ethereal musical notes she calls a mouth. She can make phone calls on a shoe. She can come up with rescue plans on the spot. And she can make gays throw up a river of taffeta by giving a couture show on Instagram. But who knew that Celine Dion is also a masterful drunk whisperer who can expertly tame a fan whose motor functions are being powered by vodka.
When Celine Dion knocked hos over with her angelic voice while dressed like Alexis Carrington going to her rival’s wedding, the other Billboard Music Awards performers not named Cher should’ve started packing up their shit. And when Cher took the stage, they should’ve picked up their shit and headed toward the nearest exit, because their services were no longer needed. Being a Billboard Music Awards performer who wasn’t Cher or Celine was like being the raw vegetable platter at a Super Bowl party. Everybody only touched the vegetables because they were waiting until the real stars of the night, the pizza dip and pigs in a blanket, were brought out.
The sparkly cloud-topped Pixy Stix that is Richard Simmons hardly ever speaks directly to his loyal disciples ever since he retired from the spotlight, but today, he left a message for his fans on his Facebook page. Richard very briefly responded to the podcast Richard Simmons Is Missing and mostly thanked everyone for praying to their Santo Simmons candle while he’s laid up in the hospital.
When I read the e-mail subject “Richard Simmons Hospitalized” first thing this morning, I was half-asleep and one drop of caffeine hadn’t entered my body yet, but my eyes still made like that dog’s eyes. But the rainbow dusted dandelion is going to be okay. That’s what his rep, Michael Catalano, tells ABC News anyway.
Michael Catalano says that Richard’s stomach and caca-making parts were in such a bad way yesterday that he needed to get checked out at the hospital. TMZ says it wasn’t a “What’s the number to 911?” situation so an ambulance was not called. Richard was driven to the hospital by one of his people. Michael gave this statement:
“Richard Simmons was hospitalized on Monday at an undisclosed location in California. After a few days of battling severe indigestion and discomfort while eating, we agreed it was best for him to seek treatment. He’s already feeling better and is expected to make a full recovery.”
The human glitter stick also spent three days in Cedars-Sinai hospital last summer. Richard’s people blamed “dehydration” at the time.
Richard recently signed a deal with a company to handle merchandising, licensing and future endorsements. So based on that bit of news, I’m going to choose to believe that in the basement of Cedars-Sinai is a giant rehearsal studio. Richard hasn’t been going to the hospital to treat his ills. For the past year, Richard is preparing to make his much-awaited return to the spotlight and he’s been secretly rehearsing for a sequin-filled, pucker-inducing Las Vegas extravaganza!!! Look, 2016 was a flaming plastic bag of donkey diarrhea and 2017 isn’t turning out any better. So let’s just go with this. We need something to believe in!