That nervous shuffling you just heard was the Travelocity Gnome and the Trivago DILF hauling ass to the nearest computer, pulling up Facebook, and scanning to see if any of their discount vacation lays now have a kid that looks like them.
William Shatner, Star Trek’s Captain Kirk and the greatest spoken-word lounge “singer” of all time, has found himself in the middle of a mess that includes a paternity test, a 59-year-old Florida DJ, and $170 million lawsuit. Page Six says that a DJ from Florida named Peter Sloan, who started going by Peter Shatner a few years ago, claims to be William Shatner’s long-lost son. Peter claims William Shatner had a brief affair with a Canadian actress named Kathy McNeil 59 years ago that resulted in a whoopsie baby (Peter). Kathy put Peter up for adoption when he was 5 days old, and now Peter wants his real daddy – which, according to Peter, is William Shatner – in his life.
And no, it has nothing to do with Papa John impregnating a woman with a half-human, half-pepperoni baby (I wish); I just wanted to use a picture of Maury Povich giving the kind of stank face I picture he gives Connie Chung after discovering she accidentally threw out his last box of Touch of Gray by Just for Men.
Foxy paternity-testing salt & pepper pop-pop (don’t judge me) Maury Povich did a Reddit AMA yesterday, and one of the questions he was asked was what he thought was the most memorable moment on his show. Based on my Raymond Babbitt-like knowledge of Maury episodes, I assumed Maury would answer either every time dude busted out a next-level not-the-father end zone dance or the time one of his staffers dressed up like a giant tampon to cure a bitch of her cotton ball fear, because those are some memories that will never die. But according to Maury, it was the WTF results of a paternity test for twins:
“It’s happened twice. A woman accused a guy of being the father of her twins. And when I opened the envelope —and I don’t know the answers before anybody else does —he was the father of one of the twins, but not the other. And they were fraternal twins. And science says that’s a million-to-one shot, that there could be two fathers of twins. And it’s happened twice. So the million-to-one shot has come in twice. And that’s the most surprised I ever was.”
I knew that shit could happen to cats. But people? And can those babies even technically be considered twins? That’s more like two half-siblings sharing a room at the same time. I dunno, science is confusing – especially for someone whose sole source of human fertilization information is Maury.
But I think the thing that’s most shocking about that story is learning that those paternity tests on Maury are real. I’m truly shocked!
Another day, another Jackson family situation that’s as puzzling as Jermaine Jackson’s fringed edges.
A bizarre press conference was held today to announce that DNA results show that there’s a 99.9% chance that 31-year-old pop singer type Brandon Howard was made from Michael Jackson’s sperm fish. There’s also a 99.9% chance that you blankly stared at that last sentence before letting out a single “oh.” You will hold a press conference tomorrow to announce this development.
Brandon Howard’s mom is gospel singer Miki Howard and she was friendly with Michael Jackson and was managed by Joe Jackson. Miki Howard used to go by the nickname “Billy” and Brandon Howard was born a year before “Billie Jean” came out, so some hos think the song is about her.
TMZ says that some dude named Alki David, who owns some site called FilmOn.com, held the press conference today and he’s the one who ordered the DNA test. Alki David got Michael Jackson’s DNA from one of MJ’s old retainers he bought at an auction. Sounds legit! To add another layer of sleazy, greasy shadiness to this giant pool of sleazy, greasy shadiness, sad fame whore Corey Feldman was at the press conference. Corey told the reporters that Brandon is the spitting image of MJ. Oh, Corey, once again proving the lies a total mess will tell for a few drink tickets and a carton of cigs.
But Brandon Howard apparently wants nothing to do with this scheme. Brandon released this statement:
To my fans, family, and friends, despite recent allegations, I did not authorize the testing of my DNA to be compared to that of the late Michael Jackson nor did I contact TMZ regarding the publication of the story.
This spring, I agreed to be a part of a documentary with FilmOn.TV and was asked to give a sample of my DNA. Even though I agreed to this I never expected it to be used in this manner.
To this day, I have never claimed to be Michael Jackson’s son nor do I have any intention of pursuing the family’s estate.
Let’s recap. Michael Jackson supposedly had bareback sex with a woman. Brandon Howard gave his DNA to an almost-stranger for whatever reason. DNA was scraped off of a nasty, disgusting, old, used retainer that may or may not have spent time in Michael Jackson’s mouth. If I add all that up and press equal, I get the answer: bullfuckingshit.
I won’t believe it until Maury announces it, Detective La Toya tells me it’s so and Brandon Howard proves that he’s really a Jackson by doing what the Jacksons do best: sue a bitch for ridiculous amounts of money.
Although, after watching Brandon Howard’s video, I do get slight shades of MJ….
That kid is probably Joe Jackson’s son and that’s probably the meanest thing I’ve ever said about anyone.
On the left is a young Frank Sinatra, in the middle is his almost face twin Ronan Farrow and on the right is a teenage Woody Allen with an Eddie Munster pompadour. Everyone thought the dude on the right made the dude in the middle with Mia Farrow, but during an interview about her life in Vanity Fair, Mia said that there’s a possibility that Frank’s ole blue-eyed sperm got into her ovary egg and made Ronan. Can somebody please get expert psychic and spirit whisperer Sylvia Browne to tell Frank Sinatra’s ghost that he IS the father? via VF:
Farrow discusses her relationship with Frank Sinatra, telling Orth that Sinatra was the great love of her life, and says, “We never really split up.” When asked point-blank if her biological son with Woody Allen, Ronan Farrow, may actually be the son of Frank Sinatra, Farrow answers, “Possibly.” No DNA tests have been done. When Orth asks Nancy Sinatra Jr. about Ronan’s being treated as if he were a member of her family, Sinatra answers in an e-mail, “He is a big part of us, and we are blessed to have him in our lives.”
Ronan Farrow is 25 years old, so if Frank Sinatra is the father then he still had it when he was in his early 70s.
Ronan responded on Twitter with this perfect tweet:
Listen, we’re all *possibly* Frank Sinatra’s son.
— Ronan Farrow (@RonanFarrow) October 2, 2013
If Mia and Ronan really want to find out, they don’t need to bother with Maury or DNA tests or whatever. Ava Gardner once said that Frank Sinatra “only weighs 120, but 100 pounds is cock.” So, there’s only one real way to find out. Whip it out and throw it on the scale, Ronan!
And I don’t know how Ronan really feels about this… Because now that Woody Allen knows that Ronan probably isn’t his biological son, he’s going to try to fuck him.
Asking “Which Kuntrashian can you stomach the most?” is just like asking “Would you rather eat hyena diarrhea, armpit cheese or Ke$ha?“, but most hos would probably say that they can take Khloe Kuntrashian (she’s armpit cheese, by the way) the most. So because of this, many believe that Khloe does not have Kardashian blood running through her veins. Pimp Mama Kris has denied this a million times over, but Robert Kardashian’s ex-wife and widow claim that he told them he was NOT the father. I don’t know if I should be happy or sad that Maury’s team is trying to get DNA swabs from Chewbacca, Ludo from Labyrinth, Chyna and Andre the Giant’s corpse for a very special Kardashian episode for sweeps.
Jan Ashley married Robert Kardashian right after his marriage to Pimp Mama Kris shriveled into nothingness, and she tells Star Magazine that he confessed to her that he knew he wasn’t Khloe’s biological father.
“Khloe is not his kid — he told me that after we got married. He just kind of looked at me and said [it] like it was a matter of fact. He said, ‘Well, you know that Khloe’s not really a Kardashian, don’t you?’ And I said…’OK,’ and that was it.”
Robert’s widow, Ellen Kardashian, backs up Jan’s ESCANDALOSO words. According to Ellen, Robert told her that he wasn’t even dipping into Pimp Mama Kris’ kunt maker at the time Khloe was conceived. Pimp Mama Kris even admitted in her book that she screwed around with a side piece named Ryan around the time Khloe was made. Jan lays it out like this:
“Khloe brought it up all the time. She looked nothing like the rest. She was tall, had a different shape, light hair, curly hair. Didn’t look anything like the other three children. Robert did question the fact that Khloe was his. Any normal man would if they knew their wife had cheated on him. [But] he never would have considered a DNA test. He loved her very much.”
DISCLAIMER: Ellen Kardashian filed for Chapter 7 in 2010 and lost her home to foreclosure this past October. So if you want to, you can file all of this under: Taking A Page From Pimp Mama Kris’ Handbook On Shamelessly Whoring For Some Quick Coin.
It really doesn’t matter at this point if Robert isn’t Khloe’s biological father or if she’s the product of Pimp Mama Kris’ wild night at a sex party in Narnia. The damage has already been done. The Karkrashian trifecta is complete and there’s no going back. Besides, Robert Kardashian isn’t Kim, Kourtney or Khloe’s father anymore. After they drained the blood from their bodies and replaced their veins with water from the river of wailing, they became Lucifer’s daughters! And by Lucifer I mean Ryan Seacrest.
And here’s some pictures from last week of Khloe and Kim confusing the animals at the Dallas World Aquarium, because those two should be the ones in a cage.
Farm fresh foolery thickened the air at NBC’s Winter Press Tour in L.A. last night when the hos from The Voice came out looking like eight degrees of MESS.
We’ve got Xtina whose titties could use a pep talk and a shot of Prozac, because they look like they’re slowly sliding down into a deep depression. Sad chichis are sad. Then we’ve got Cee-Lo whose goatee makes him look like the evil fat midget baby of a T-Rex and Genghis Khan. Then there’s Adam Levine and his piece who look like they should be playing a game of patty cake with their flap jackets. And finally, there’s Blake Shelton and
Slappy the Dummy Carson Daly making my gay gene shrivel down into the shape of a shrieking vulva by hugging on each other like that.
A MESS! Which button do I press to turn my chair the other way?