The cover of this week’s People magazine is all about wiping the stain from Duchess Meghan’s tabloid-given reputation of being difficult (I’m still waiting for Prince George’s rebuttal), but those not-knowing-messes buried the real story of the week. In the pages of this week’s People is the story we should all be talking about: the human ray of glamour-dipped sunshine that is Susan Lucci could’ve died last year!
The Observer made every serious world-renowned journalist ooze thick globs of jealousy from every one of their pores when they landed an interview with the goddess herself, Dame Joan Collins. The Observer sent Sophie Heawood to Joan Collins’ luxurious Beverly Hills palace in the sky to do a long profile on the BIGGEST STAR IN THE WORLD!!! You can read the entire thing here, but of course, the thing that caused me to throw my fly swatter in the trash was Dame Joan saying that she believes her dead sister Jackie Collins, the BIGGEST AND GREATEST LITERARY GENIUS IN THE WORLD FOREVER AND ALWAYS, has been reincarnated as a fly that follows her around the world. And yes, that is a real picture of the opulent fly who Joan believes is Jackie Collins.
The song “Jolene” by Dolly Parton is near and dear to my heart. My award winning (dive bar karaoke contest, Savannah GA, 2001) rendition of the 1973 hit brings down the house every time. So you’ll understand why I might feel a bit protective of it. According to Deadline, “Jolene” will be one of the songs featured in the upcoming Netflix anthology series Dolly Parton’s Heartstrings, a show that will dramatize 8 of Dolly’s “most beloved songs”. For the “Jolene” episode, Julianne Hough will play the titular home wrecking tramp and I’m left wondering, where are her flaming locks of auburn hair? Eyes of emerald green? I’m strongly against this casting choice but it seems Dolly’s on board, and she did write the song so I’m just going to have to let her have this one.
Go ahead and add Kathleen Turner’s name under Quincy Jones’ and Patti LuPone’s names on the list of people whose feet you want to curl up to and tilt your head as they drop golden nugget after golden nugget into your ear.
Kathleen Turner did an interview with Vulture’s David Marchese, and oh how I wish there was an audio version. Because Kathleen Turner’s sandpaper-wrapped-in-velvet voice would melt the wax in my ears from all the roasting she does. Kathleen starts the flaming right out the gate by torching Elizabeth Taylor, and from there she drags Nicolas Cage, Burt Reynolds, the Friends cast, Trump, and Hollywood-at-large. Kathleen Turner has always been a rose from the Garden of No Fucks To Give, but now she’s really blooming and I love every second of it. Let those tricks have it, Jessica Rabbit!
Alan Alda, shiny diamond of a human who is best known to most for that boring army show (don’t let my mom the M*A*S*H stan read that) but is best known to me for writing, directing, and starring in Betsy’s Wedding, announced on CBS This Morning today that he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease over three years ago. But Alan wants everyone to know that while many people with Parkinson’s suffer with seriously fucked-up symptoms that keep them from being active, he’s living his life without many issues, and has even taken up boxing. Pepaw Alda working up a sweat while beating up a punching bag is the unexpected tip-moistening image of the day for me.
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.