I wouldn’t be surprised if Sinead O’Connor looked at this picture of Arsenio Hall shaking hands with Prince from The Arsenio Hall Show back in 2014 and thought: “Hmmm…I’m pretty sure I can make out a little plastic baggie of drugs.”
Shortly after Prince left this world and slinked sexily into the next, investigators started looking at whether or not Prince might have died of an overdose. That was Sinead O’Connor’s cue to jump on Facebook and accuse Prince’s “bitch” Arsenio Hall of being the reason why he may have an overdose. Sinead accused Arsenio of being Prince’s hook-up and claimed she had reported Arsenio to the authorities. She also accused him of spiking her drink at Eddie Murphy’s house a long time ago. Arsenio denied all of Sinead’s accusations, but now he’s taking it one step further by suing her for defamation.
That “Really, bitch?” side-eye and smirk is the only response I need.
The last time I wrote about the whole “Prince not having a will” situation, I said that it didn’t seem like it would get that messy. Well, to quote anybody who has ever taken advice from me, “Michael, you were wrong, bitch!” Prince didn’t have a will, so Minnesota law states that his entire fortune has to be split up between his 6 surviving siblings. They’ve been in probate hearings the past few days with the special administrator of Prince’s estate, Bremer Trust bank, and Harvey Levin must have the ability to shape-shift into a fly on the wall (or one of the siblings called his ass), because TMZ says that his sister Tyka Nelson stormed out of a meeting on Friday.
A source says that Tyka Nelson believes she should get more than 1/6th of Prince’s estate since she’s his only full sibling. Tyka’s cut may get even smaller. TMZ says that a woman named Darcell Johnston filed documents in Prince’s probate case that claim she’s got sexy purple nymph blood running through her veins. According to Darcell, she’s the long-lost secret half-sister of Prince and they have the same mother, but different a different dad. Apparently, Prince’s family didn’t know about Darcell until a few days ago.
Well, it’s nice to see that the contacts John Travolta wore to play Robert Shapiro found another gig on Kanye West’s eyeballs.
Kanye really does live inside of a fart bubble of delusion where he believe he’s a major trendsetter, because what in the hell is new about some beauty supply contacts and a bedazzled Levi’s jean jacket? (Although, THE QUEEN probably loves his goatee since it’s shaped like one of her pocketbooks.)
Nearly ever other girl in the early-90s had to go to the doctor for some pink eye shit they got from sleeping in discount colored contacts. Zillions of chicks wore some Siberian Husky contacts and also had a jean jacket that she glamour’d up with rhinestones and puffy paint from the craft store. And they all wore that shit better than Kanye did at the Met Gala tonight.
Anna Wintour probably has an assistant whose sole job is to provide an arm for her to dig her claws into when she fills with rage over a bitch fucking with her nerves. Well, that assistant probably almost lost their arm when Kanye showed up to the Met Gala in ripped jeans. And speaking of things ripping apart…
I will never be able to eat stovetop popcorn again without smelling burnt plastic, lead paint and piss, because Twitter ruined it for me by comparing Kim Kartrashian’s ass in that dress to Jiffy Pop that was left on the stove too long.
Barnaby Joyce Finally Gives His Review Of Johnny Depp’s Tour De Force Performance In That Apology Video
Strangely enough, that animal friend (the one on the left) is doing a spot-on impersonation of Johnny Depp in that apology video.
Barnaby Joyce was Australia’s agriculture minister when Johnny Depp and Amber Heard became the country’s most wanted criminals by smuggling in their Yorkies. Barnaby Joyce threatened to snuff Boo and Pistol out if Johnny didn’t take their illegal asses back to California. Barnaby called Johnny a “two-time Sexiest Man Alive” when talking to the media. Barnaby is now Australia’s deputy prime minister and even though he switched positions, he’s still the country’s reigning secretary of messiness. I’m guessing he’s like Australia’s answer to Rob Ford sans all that crack-smoking stuff. Although, judging by that picture, it looks like he injects the bad shit directly into his eyeball veins.
But anyway, when Australia released that masterpiece video of the Bonnie and Clyde of the Yorkie smuggling game fake apologizing to the country as their pus-filled egos throbbed with pain, I waited and waited for Barnaby Joyce to open the library and read them. He finally did.
Oh, Anna Wintour, that frozen-hearted demonic genius!
Taylor Swift is one of the co-chairs of this year’s MET(h) Gala along with Anna Wintour, so I figured that Vogue’s lips were currently attached to her heart-shaped asshole. But I figured wrong, because this morning Anna Wintour released the newest cover of Vogue with Tay Tay on the cover and this mess screams: I. Hate. This. Trick. If Anna Wintour liked Taylor, she wouldn’t have her on the cover looking like the old straw broom my abuelita used to sweep the carpet with. I know that Anna Wintour is completely dead inside and doesn’t have the ability to process human emotions, but I still love her for this.
On Jimmy Kimmel Live! last night, The Alien Lizard King debuted the trailer for the newest movie that will probably bring in seven trillion dollar signs and allow a Marvel executive to say, “Sure, go ahead and get the solid gold bidet that shoots out diamond water,” to their contractor.
Doctor Strange barely finished filming, but the teaser trailer is already out, because I guess Marvel wanted to keep the nerd boners hard after Disney put out the trailer for the latest Star Whores movie. Although, I don’t know if this crap is going to keep you nerds hard, because it’s just, uh…no. If Inception ate up giant servings of The Matrix, washed it down with a glass of Thor 2 and then barfed up all over a Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon diorama, the end result would look like this trailer. It’s got Benedict Cumberbatch doing an American accent, some Inception shit, some Matrix shit and Tilda Swinton as The Ancient One. The Ancient One is a Tibetan sorcerer, but if I didn’t know that, I’d guess that Tilda was playing Powder’s real biological mother doing lazy cosplay as the boy from The Last Airbender.
While watching this trailer, you may be wondering why there’s no Asians in it. Um, there’s Asians as the EXTRAS, thankyouverymuch!
Since they insisted on casting Tilda as the Ancient One, they should’ve went all the way. They should’ve Tilda-washed the whole thing by casting her in every single role.
And here’s Tilda graciously bestowing her regal presence upon her loyal subjects while walking through NYC with her young lovah last month.
Well, it’s the weekend and I’m in Florida (HELP) so of course there’s a new story about Charlie Sheen and his ex-fiance, Brett Rossi, real name Scottine. I woke up with the overwhelming desire to cry because I lost my phone last night but seeing this story has given me some clarity. When you think you’re a mess, have acted a mess, just messed mess, think of Charlie Sheen and Brett Rossi. Or Charlie Sheen and anyone. Even Charlie Sheen and inanimate objects. There is no way he doesn’t yell at and allegedly threaten inanimate objects the same way he does living things.
As reported by world renowned journalist, me, last weekend, Brett Rossi filed for a restraining order against Charlie after hearing recordings of him talking about how he’d like to hire someone to kick her head in, amongst other very classy and normal things. The LA Times is reporting that Brett got her restraining order, a temporary one, yesterday. The Times also says that this is hot on the heels of the LAPD saying, on Wednesday, that Charlie is under investigation for alleged threats he made against Brett.
I honestly did not expect to see two famous balls of crazy get into a dramatic fight outside of a hotel in Las Vegas today, but here we are. Last night around 5pm, Nicolas Cage, the human equivalent of a dental surgery morphine trip, and Vince Neil, lead singer of Mötley Crüe man who I’m 90% sure is the gopher from Caddyshack’s long-lost daddy, got into a brawl outside of the Aria Hotel in Las Vegas.
According to TMZ, the fight started inside the Aria after a woman came up to Nicolas and Vince and asked Nicolas for an autograph. Sources claim that Vince, apropos of nothing, came up behind the woman, allegedly yanked her hair and pulled her to the ground. Nicolas Cage clearly has a little H.I. McDunnough nerve still in him, because he responded by beating on Vince. Nic eventually took their fight outside in an attempt to get Vince into a car. The latter half of their fight was caught on video.
TMZ says that Vince was sited for battery, but didn’t take a trip to the police station. He’s currently the subject of a criminal investigation. Vince Neil probably already knows the drill, since this isn’t his first time getting in trouble for acting like a violent mess in Las Vegas.
But back to that video. For those of you wondering what kind of drugs Nicolas Cage is on that would cause him to go from full-blown screaming-in-a-parking-lot fight mode to holding his enemy close and whispering sweet nonsense in his ear, the answer is: I don’t think he’s on drugs. I’m pretty sure that’s just Nicolas Cage’s normal level of insanity.
It feels like as soon as 2016 was born on January 1st at 12:01am, it dropped massive amounts of acid and has kept dropping massive amounts of acid, because bitch has taken us for a wild trip and the year isn’t even halfway over yet. Recently, 2016 gave us a bizarre Twitter fight about Hillary Clinton between grown person Debra Messing and fellow grown person Susan Sarandon (and Debra MESSing is still at it). Well, 2016 has once again gone over to the box marked “Random As Fuck Feuds” and randomly pulled out two names: Azealia Banks and Sarah Palin. The way that this year has been going, I fully expect to hear about a back alley knife fight between Emmanuel Lewis and Carrot Top before 2017 begins.
Just kidding, it’s still a mess. Happy Late April Fool’s Day! On Friday we learned that Madonna, in a desperate attempt to win back her runaway teenage son, was trying to arrange a lawyer-free custody meeting with Rocco Ritchie and Guy Ritchie. Well, if what the Daily Mail says is true (“Errr…” thought everyone who has ever read the Daily Mail), then Madonna probably shouldn’t set out a teacup and a plate of scones for Rocco.
According to the Daily Mail, Rocco not-so-subtly slapped at his mama recently on Instagram. Shortly after Rocco high-tailed it to London to live with his daddy, he threw a PRIVATE sign on his Instagram account. Even though most of his online activity is a secret, he was still able to pull a “Tell us how you REALLY feel” by allegedly updating his profile to include the following description of himself.
“Son of a bitch” – oooh, sick burn. Forever bad teen boy Justin Bieber is totally saving that one for the next time his mom unplugs his Xbox and yells at him to take the trash out.
The Daily Mail can’t confirm with 100% certainty that the Instagram account shown above belongs to the Rocco Ritchie that fell out of Madonna’s steel trap snatch. But they did a little sleuthing and they’re pretty sure it’s his. At the very least, we know it’s not a decoy account set up by Madonna to frame Rocco, because it wasn’t written son of a bish.
Madonna has yet to comment on this. She is due to fly to London tomorrow to see Rocco. And if she really wanted to turn Rocco’s hate into haterade, the first words out of her mouth will be: “Rocco, that’s sweet of you to give your father an Instagram shout-out, but it’s spelled C-U-N-T.”