Kunty Karl can’t physically cry, but if he could, he wouldn’t shed one tear about Kim Kardashian reportedly getting robbed at gunpoint by jewel thieves. Karl basically told reporters after his Chanel show that when you drink Don Pérignon around Three Buck Chuck drinkers, you shouldn’t be surprised when one of them snatches your crystal champagne flute out of your hand. A spokesperson for the Paris police department also hit our eyeballs with a giant DUX (that’s French for “duh,” I checked) by saying that Kim was targeted by alleged thieves because she’s famous, rich and flashed her diamonds all over social media. Pimp Mama Kris, I mean, a family source, tells People that Kim isn’t blaming her pimp mom for choosing that one night to not have cameras on her. Kim is blaming herself.
Weird, right? As soon as I heard that Kim Kardashian was allegedly held at gunpoint by jewel thieves in Paree, I figured that Kunty Karl would immediately drop the virgin he was feeding upon and appear in a Chanel logo-shaped white cloud before her to comfort her. I mean, KK has photographed the lesser KK before, he scribbled out a note of support for her ass and he’s always the epitome of warmth. But if Karl did have a sympathetic bone in his regal vampire body, it wouldn’t feel a thing for Kim. In the Gospel According to Kunty Karl it states that if you’re going to flaunt that luxurious life in front of the peasants, you better protect that luxurious life with the damn A-Team.
In bed with #KanyeWest and @KimKardashian, our 2016 #BAZAARicons chosen by @CarineRoitfeld. The couple talks fame, fortune and how they’d like to be remembered in the September portfolio. Go to the link in our profile to see the full fashion shoot by @KarlLagerfeld, creative direction by #StephenGan and interview by @LauraBrown99 on BAZAAR.com. #WeAreFashion
Harper’s Bazaar’s September issue should’ve been called the “Necrophilia Issue,” because that picture has about as much sexiness and charisma as a picture of a crime scene photographer taking a picture of a dead body. No disrespect to crime scene photographers and dead bodies.
The publishers of Harper’s Bazaar are probably going to be hit with a class action lawsuit from subscribers who no longer have eyeballs because that shit rolled out of their faces and out the door while reading the magazine’s Q&A with Kanye West and Kim Kartrashian. It reads like one of those Facebook quizzes filled out by a fart bubble and a queef bubble.
Le Tax Man Is Coming For Kunty Karl For Allegedly Trying To Hide Over $21 Million From The Government
Fatties, ugly people, Adele and Pippa Middleton are all cackling into the night, because the grand lord of the Death Eaters Kunty Karl is being investigated by French tax authorities for using all kinds of schemes to hide more than 20 million euros. Kunty Karl’s white pot scrubber hair isn’t only filled with the screams of his victims. It may also be filled with tax-evading secrets.
The French newspaper L’Express (via The Daily Mail) says that French authorities believe that over the course of 6 years, Kunty Karl failed to declare a total of 20 million euros. They believe he’s been using places like the British Virgin Islands, Delaware and Ireland to circulate his millions. Authorities are focusing on 7L, a bookshop that Kunty Karl founded in 1999 in Paris. Inside of Kunty Karl’s bookshop is a photo studio owned by a British company, which takes in the revenue from his photography work. The bookshop doesn’t pay taxes because it doesn’t make any money. Apparently, the French authorities think the foreign transactions allowed the “concealing of the undeclared professional activity” of Karl as a photographer.
Kunty Karl has obviously never met the true inspiration for elegance Shauna Sand. But that’s another conversation for him and me to have while I’m filing his claws as one of his slaves in Hell.
Karl Lagerfeld was recently in NYC to present his Paris-Salzburg collection (Whatever that means!) and he let The Cut into his tomb at The Mercer Hotel to talk about it, but he didn’t really want to talk about that or himself or inspiration or books or TV or movies. The only thing Kunty Karl really wanted to talk about was the only living thing on this planet who is safe from him sucking the life out of them when the evil inside him needs refueling. Karl only wanted to talk about his precious pussy Choupette Lagerfeld. Karl calls Choupette the “most famous cat in the world,” but again, he obviously lives in an ass bubble of ignorance where he doesn’t know who Shauna Sand or Grumpy Cat is.
Kim Kartrashian’s yeast infection surprise hair color turned to a bright shade of jealousy green at the Balmain show today when the modern day Dorian Gray named Jared Leto sashayed in while showing that trash heap heffa how the peroxide look is really done.
Five seconds is approximately how long it took Jared Leto to fight the hot again after he stopped fighting the hot by chopping off his ombre Yanni circa 1999 hair. Jared took a Flowbee to his mane to play The Joker in the Suicide Squad movie and he kept the transformation going by bleaching his hair the same color that every teenage trailer park tweaker had in 2002. I’m guessing that Jared is going to keep his transformation into The Joker going by going bright red or bright green. But I, for one, hope he keeps it like this.
I hope this means that in the Suicide Squad movie, The Joker is a cunty, black-hearted German zombie fashion designer who destroys his targets by calling them fat over and over again and who brings Batman to tears by shaming that bitch for wearing black rubber when this season is all about light onyx panda leather. The Joker will also make Superman question everything by saying, “Honey, unless your name is Lupita Nyong’o, don’t try the cape look.” They can even replace Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn with Choupette Lagerfeld. Now THAT is the Suicide Squad movie I want to see.
And here’s more of Jared looking like the golden child of the Death Eaters at the Balmain show in Paris today. And on a different note, the HELL is he wearing? He’s dressed like a toddler whose mom let him pick out his outfit.