Every now and again, John Travolta needs to remind Beyonce that she may be miles ahead of him in the lace front game, but he’s quickly speeding up behind her so she better strap-in her wig and hold on tight. The game is far from over.
Somewhere in the middle of a forest in New England, a family of naked silver foxes are shivering their asses off since their fur was shaved off to make John Travolta’s newest wig, but they’re suffering for a good cause, because their fur has elevated his beauty and glamour. While a hot piece (Stunt double? Bodyguard? Personal massage therapist/confidante? Dianetics study partner? B-hole waxer? All of the above?) came up hard from behind him, John Travolta sashayed around the set of his new movie The Forger in Boston, MA. Papa Johnny’s new wig looks like a luscious river of onyx and diamonds, and the Massachusetts wind should feel lucky that it gets to sweep across it. John Travolta’s gorgeous Beethoven-after-a-trim wig really goes well with the ball tickler on his chin.
And there’s no doubt that John got a matching merkin, because the carpet has to sparkle as much as the drapes, but do you think he takes it off and puts it on the chair next to him when he gets a massage?
It’s slower than a Farrah Abraham today, so here’s some pictures of Scientology’s sweetheart John Travolta welcoming the press to his private beach locker room on the Promenade des Planches in Deauville, France today. John is in France to promote his movie Joe at the Deauville American Film Festival and the town welcomed him by giving him and other ELITE STARS!!!! their own beach locker rooms.
John Travolta has starred in a million movies, has been nominated for Oscars, owns the second largest collection of lace fronts after Beyonce and has Xenu on speed dial, but he can now say that he’s finally made it. Getting his own French beach closet a skip away from Debbie Reynolds’ beach closet beats everything.
If Roger Moore sees John Travolta and a massage therapist go into his beach closet, and then hears what sounds like a walrus moaning, groaning and choking on a carrot, there’s no need to call a lifeguard for help. Everything’s fine.
And a really good way to start your weekend is by gazing at the luscious lace front on John’s head.
John Travolta was happier than a Corgi in a kiddie pool two weeks ago when he shot a Ypióca commercial in Rio with a trio of hot, shirtless Brazilian pieces and here’s the finished product. This really is John Travolta’s heaven. A few seconds into his heavenly dream, he comes across a jogging lady and thinks to himself, “Glitch! Glitch! For why is this woman in my idea of heaven?” Then after he strolls onto the sand, he comes across a hard ball which leads him to a bunch of shirtless dudes. Heaven fully reached! John Travolta’s face lights up the same way the face of a parched, thirsty bitch would light up after crawling through the dry desert and seeing a giant Brazilian dick shooting out water in the distance. John Travolta ends his dream by busting out some sweet, sweet moves. I don’t know if he’s doing the Samba, a jacked up version of The Running Man or if he’s just offering the three dudes a handy (at the 0:21 mark). SPOILER ALERT: It’s the last one.
If that picture was a postcard, it’d be addressed to Tommy Girl and it’d say, “You wish you were here, bitch!”
Like Paula Deen at a slavery-themed wedding, John Travolta was filled with pure potent happiness yesterday when he spread his legs and got down next to some topless dudes while shooting a commercial in Rio for a Brazilian brand of booze called Ypióca. Everybody on that beach in Rio now knows what fried Thetans smell like. Because all the Thetans on John Travolta’s itchy itchy anus burned up and exploded when he got hot while being the cheese in that hot piece
panini peenini. Yes, that crap on John Travolta’s chin looks like a beaver’s taint (that the closest he’ll ever get to having a beaver on his chin), but he’s living the wet dream. XENU IS GOOD!
“Rollin’ to the music and shakin’ real fast. Bend over backwards, make me shout. And work that pussy, in and out!”
Once the bald Shih Tzu whose hair was used to make a wig for John Travolta stops shivering, it should be grateful that it has the ability to grow hair and can help Scientology’s sexiest pin-up (sorry, Kirstie Alley) take his glamour and beauty to the next level. With ten jars of Bonne Bell foundation smeared across his face and half of the Westminster Dog Show on top of his head, John Travolta graced the opening of Breitling’s flagship store in London with his presence. David Beckham was also there, but as Nancy Pelosi would say, “Who cares?” John Travolta’s wig > Becks
I’ve always made fun of John Travolta’s busted down, tragic wigs and hairpieces, but I can’t make fun of this one. Not since the Red Sea has there been such a glorious part and those fake dandruff balls (or maybe those are dried cum flakes) add an authentic touch. We also have to give him a standing ovation for that under-chin goatee. If you turn your head upside down and look at his chin, it kind of looks like a fat Shar Pei wearing an oversized yarmulke made of hair. That under-chin fur patch isn’t only a beauty statement, it’s also highly functional. Do you know how many taints and nutsacks were exfoliated with that thing? There’s a lot of smooth taints out there and they owe it all to John Travolta’s loofah patch.
You know it’s a special occasion when John Travolta pulls out his favorite wig. Since John Travolta is always hijacking the iPod in the Scientology’s bath house to play Rodgers & Hammerstein’s greatest hits, the producers of the Oscars asked him to introduce the tribute to movie musicals last night. Everybody’s talking about how John Travolta can’t pronounce Les Miserables (Note: Please, he mispronounced that shit on purpose to make himself look straighter), but everybody should be talking about the glorious beast on his head. Yes, every Papillon is throwing a shank eye at Travolta since he stole their signature hairstyle, but they have to admit that his center part is immaculate. I’m sure Moses himself parted Travolta’s wig. I’m not talking about Moses from the bible, I’m talking about Moses the resident wig master at the Scientology beauty salon.
Travolta didn’t only work a stunning lace front, but he also worked a hot velcro patch on his chin. When you tea bag Travolta, you can exfoliate your taint on his hot velcro patch at the same time.
Here’s a few more pictures of Travolta with Kelly Preston last night and since we’re on the subject of lush beards, let’s pay tribute to some of the best ones last night. In order: Travolta with Kelly Preston, George Clooney with Stacy Keibler, Hugh Jackmeoff with Deborra-Lee Furness, Justin Theroux with Jennifer Aniston, Jean Dujardin and Ben Affleck with Jennifer Garner.
“Lindsay Lohan is psychotic” replaced “water is wet” as the #1 DUH statement of our time and Samantha Ronson’s British socialite of a mother Ann Dexter-Jones wanted to remind us all of this.
The sloppy mash-up of Sarah Jessica Parker and Janice the Muppet tells The Daily Mail all about the night that she finally realized that LiLo and SamRo were about as good for each other as masturbating with a circumcised tree branch is for your coochie. Ann says that the year was 2008 and they were all at the opening of The Atlantis in Dubai when she shook her head as LiLo banged her fists on a thick carpet and no that isn’t a euphemism for pussy bumpin’. Ann watched LiLo throw a toddler-style tantrum on the floor and the next day she let her daughter and that crazy crackie bitch know that she wasn’t going to bless their lezzie version of Sid & Nancy anymore and her house was now a Lohan-free zone.
“Suddenly, without any warning, Lindsay flung herself on to the thick carpet and started to roll around screaming like a child. It seemed she was upset that people, including Samantha, were not paying her enough attention. To my mind, it was classic psychotic behavior. I took Lindsay aside and told her not to make a spectacle of herself. She was clearly out of control and spoiling for a fight.
I know stuff, but I don’t want to go into it. I just knew that it was not a good place for my child to be, but sometimes a parent’s objection only makes it more exciting. When I saw for myself just how volatile Lohan was, I realised that the relationship was not healthy. The morning after her tantrum – and believe me, that was not the worst of it – I told them both that I could no longer support them as a couple, that I no longer approved of them being together and that Lindsay was no longer welcome in my home.”
This finally explains that picture. Ann Dexter-Jones isn’t screaming, because she’s so excited that someone is actually taking her picture. Ann Dexter-Jones is screaming, because just standing next to LiLo is painful and she wants to butt fuck her with that pack of Reds. Ann banishing a Lohan from her life was a good move for her family, just like bringing up her daughter’s old relationship to sell her stupid jewelry collection is a good move for her family.
This is the perfect time to remember the good old days when LiLo was giving us the low-budget version of Sharon Stone in Casino:
I see that thick folder with John Travolta’s name on it. It probably has more pictures of hard dick than the folder on my desktop labeled, “more pictures of hard dick, part 3.“
The Hollywood Reporter has been posting excerpts from Lawrence Wright’s book about Scientology called Going Clear and yesterday they shared details about John Travolta’s fucked up relationship with the Cult of L. Ron Hubbard. John joined Scientology after actress Joan Prather told him about it while on the set of some crap movie called The Devil’s Rain in Mexico. John started taking classes at Scientology’s Celebrity Centre and was hooked after he believed that they helped him get his breakout role on Welcome Back, Kotter:
Travolta began taking the Hubbard Qualified Scientologist Course at the Celebrity Centre with about 150 other students. He confided to the teacher, Sandy Kent, that he was about to audition for a television show, Welcome Back, Kotter. Kent instructed everyone to point in the direction of ABC Studios and telepathically communicate the instruction: “We want John Travolta for the part.” At the next meeting, Travolta revealed he had gotten the role of Vinnie Barbarino — the part that would soon make him famous. “My career immediately took off,” Travolta boasted in a Church publication. “Scientology put me in the big time.
Scientology gave John a Sea Org handler and it was the handler’s job to keep him in check, manage his relationship with his fans and she even had to get Paramount to buy a large block of Scientology audits for his birthday. John’s handler goes on to say that she became very close to him, but Scientology tore them apart and later manipulated her into luring him back to the cult after they felt like he was straying away. She eventually left Scientology and became a “Suppressive Person” after they kept her baby from her and punished her by throwing her in a disciplinary program. The entire excerpt is as long as Chris Brown’s pencil dick, but it’s a must-read. It reads like a scary novella as written by Stephen King.
Anyway, the best part of the excerpt is that the name of John Travola’s former Scientology handler is: SPANKY TAYLOR! SPANKY TAYLOR! Her real name is Sylvia Taylor, but everyone calls her Spanky.
John Travolta would have a handler named Spanky Taylor. Spanky Taylor sounds like a sex act involving whips and anus clamps. It’s just a perfect name. John Travolta’s world would totally be a different place if he had stayed friends with Spanky Taylor. SPANKY TAYLOR!
“You might like it” isn’t only the line that John Travolta says after he raises his ass up in the air and rubs his Scientolohole against a massage therapist’s crotch. It’s also the name of his new Christmas song with Olivia Newton-John. The cover of John and ONJ’s holiday album is what you would see if you put a magnifying glass up to a unicorn’s fart bubble after it ate all of the Christmas candy, and the video for their first (and last) single is just as special.
In the video that costs less than the shoe polish John Travolta smears all over his head every morning, JT and ONJ two-step, hug and drive together in Ocala, FL. Everything about this gift from Baby Xenu is beautiful from the hairy skid mark on JT’s chin to ONJ’s face looking like an inside/out rubber cat mask to the chain wallet to the random hugging of policemen to ONJ driving on the sidewalk and waving at nobody.
Yes, this is what has become of Danny and Sandy and I might LOVE it!
Usually, John Travolta’s the one who needs a healer to massage the pain away (example: “I’ve got an ailment in my anus. Can you knead it out?” – John Travolta), but he recently used his Scientology powers to magically heal a car crash victim’s broken ankle.
John tells the Scientology publication Celebrity Magazine (via Celebuzz) that when he was in Shanghai for some work stuff, he met a man who was suffering from ankle pain and he rebuked the OWWWs from the dude’s body using a technique called an “assist.” The name of a Scientology healing technique would have the word “ASS” in it. John said this craziness:
“I was in Shanghai recently at a work event and the Master of Ceremonies’ best friend had recently gotten into a car wreck. He had broken his ankle and was in constant pain. I asked him permission to do some Scientology assists and he said, ‘Okay sure’. People were standing around watching as I did them. You could actually see him confronting the pain and after a while he looked up at me and said ‘I feel better’ so I said ‘Okay end of assist.’ He had gotten noticeably better and I was chomping at the bit for more.”
Celebuzz says that according to the Scientology handbook, an assist is “a process whereby a Scientologist helps an individual to heal himself — or to be healed by another agency — by removing his or her reasons for precipitating and prolonging his condition and lessening their predisposition to further injure themselves or remain in an intolerable condition.“
What a fancy and technical explanation! Let me put it into words we can all understand. Basically, during this particular Scientology assist, John Travolta pressed his fingers and the tip of his tongue on specific pressure points on the man’s dick. In between pressing his tongue against pressure points on the man’s peen, John told him to channel that pain from his ankle up into his nutsack. As John continued to rub those pressure points, he told the man to release that pain out of his dick hole. John rubbed harder and faster while shouting, “Shoot that pain paint, good man! Let it out!” Then after the man released the pain, John said, “End of assist.”
And no, I didn’t just write Scientology gay porn starring John Travolta. I wrote about a medical procedure. Get your brain out of the gutter. But seriously, that man only said he felt better, because he wanted John Travolta to get away from him.
And every time you give a hand job, you need to stand back up and say, “End of assist.” That’s a good line!