Last month, Ron Teblo, an author and investigator who’s been trying to expose The Long Island Medium’s con artist ways for a while, gave Radar testimonies from former employees and customers of Theresa Caputo who claim that she’s got the psychic skills of a taxidermy cat in a turban and uses tricks to fool people. Theresa’s former employees claimed that before a reading, she gets her people to do research on the dead loved one and uses her stunningly exquisite Wite-Out nails to pull shit out of her ass. In a video Ron made for his site SciFake (via Radar), he claims that Cassandra Cales, the sister of Stacy Peterson, who’s been missing since 2007, wrote him on Facebook and told him about her reading with The Long Island Medium. If your psychic abilities are telling you that the reading was a mess, congratulations! You’re more gifted than The Long Island Medium!
Stacy Peterson went missing in 2007 and her bloated piss bag of a husband Drew Peterson probably had everything to do with it. Drew is serving a 38 year sentence in prison after he was found guilty of murdering his third wife Kathleen Savio. Cassandra told Ron that for months and months, The Long Island Medium’s people kept bothering her to come on her reality shit show for a reading. Cassandra finally gave in and flew to NYC. The session was taped for The Long Island Medium, but it never aired, because it was a wreck from start to finish. Cassandra says that Theresa Caputo gave her no proof that she made a connection with her sister. Not only did Theresa waste Cassandra’s time, but the Jennifer Aniston look-alike with Kate Gosselin-on-roids hair also punched her in the soul by saying that Stacy wants her to stop looking.
“She gave me nothing. She really sucked and wasn’t hitting on nothing. [Caputo] said Stacy didn’t want me searching for her, to put it to rest. It was a hard day for me. I think she was a fake, phony. And lied to me.”
So wait, if this is true, then The Long Island Medium shamelessly took advantage of a vulnerable loved one of a high-profile case to get ratings for her TV show and more attention for herself. Hmmm… I hear a raspy hollering in my ear. It’s either from my neighbor’s fat, old ass cat coughing up another hairball or it’s Sylvia Browne cackling with glee from the beyond. Her legacy lives on!
It’s been a little over a month since Casey Kasem’s soul floated out of his body and he finally got away from the craziness between his crazy daughter and crazy wife, and in that time you’d think that his family would press pause on the crazy to lay him to rest. But anybody who thought that doesn’t know the kind of crazy shit that Jean Kasem is capable of. The gold digging Amazonian dark goddess re-charges her black orb of a heart by sucking in the pain of Casey Kasem’s family. TMZ says that Casey’s body is missing and everyone thinks that the manifestation of evil (seen above at the Emmys looking like a Mordor Betsy Johnson) has it.
Jean is currently being investigated by the Santa Monica PD for elder abuse. Jean pulled Casey out of a Santa Monica convalescent home when he was down and out and dragged him all around the West. A judge ordered that an autopsy be done on Casey’s body, because the Santa Monica PD needs the results for their investigation. But the day before a judge ordered the autopsy, Jean removed Casey’s body from the funeral home. Sources tell TMZ that only Jean knows where Casey’s body is and nobody can track her down. Casey’s daughter Kerri Kasem thinks that Jean left the country. Jean listed “Jerusalem” as her current address on Casey’s death certificate. Yeah, so she could be in Jerusalem, because the Middle East isn’t going through enough right now.
What in Weekend at Bernie’s HELL?
So if you’re in Jerusalem and see an 8 foot tall giant of insanity dragging a man in a wrinkled suit and sunglasses behind her while telling everyone that he had a little too much Manischewitz wine to drink, don’t make eye contact with it and immediately scream for Scooby Doo or the Ghostbusters or a demon exorcising rabbi.
The moral of this story is: If you marry crazy, crazy will terrorize you when you’re alive and terrorize you after you’re dead by tying your limbs together with piano wire before dragging you all around the world. “That’s sounds rather romantic, actually.” - Spalding from AHS: Coven
Awww, look at sad, wittle, sweet and misunderstood Tewwy Richardson making a “Won’t you fo’give me for cumming on faces without asking first?” face. Don’t you just want to give him a great, big hug while wearing a suit covered with flaming spikes? That cover looks like a senior yearbook photo from Lucifer High. But you probably can’t see that picture or these words since vomit from your stomach is covering your monitor.
New York Magazine gave human white windowless van Terry Richardson a platform to speak out against all the allegations from models who claim that they went to his studio thinking they were just doing a photo shoot and they walked out with a glob of his coagulated jizz in their eye. Uncle Terry never denies that he regularly slaps his dick on a model’s face without asking first, but he does say that agents should never send their models out on shoots that will make them feel uncomfortable. I just can’t….
As for Richardson, “when I was taking those pictures,” he says, “I was very, like, ‘Cool, sounds great, let’s do it, great, okay, sure, great, cool, if not, no problem, never do anything you don’t want to do, of course, I totally respect that.’ ” He makes the point that agents and bookers shouldn’t encourage their clients to take on assignments that will make them uncomfortable.
A photographer agent threw a side-eye to that, because they say that Uncle Terry isn’t telling Mariah Carey or Charlize Theron or Obama or Oprah to grab his dick and lick the tip. Terry is going after girls whose agents tell them that he’s really important in the fashion world and they feel like they have to do it or else they’ll get dropped by their agency.
Every model who claimed that Terry terrorized them with his dick milk says that only he, them and his partner in fuckery/assistant Leslie were in the room when he shot them. But Uncle Terry says that his sets are always really professional and you’d think you were getting your picture taken at an Olan Mills. His sets are that wholesome! Actually, they’re probably more wholesome than Olan Mills, because you know the Olan Mills photographers snort lines off of those forest backdrops.
“It was never just me and a girl ever,” Richardson told me at his studio. “It was always assistants, or other people around, or girls brought friends over to hang out. It was very daytime, no drugs, no alcohol. It was a happening, there was energy, it was fun, it was exciting, making these strong images, and that’s what it was. People collaborating and exploring sexuality and taking pictures.”
Terry doesn’t admit to doing anything wrong and if the models he cums on feel bad about him cumming on them, then that’s on them (unfortunate pun not intended).
In our conversations, Richardson was less introspective and more defensive. “I don’t have any regrets about the work at all,” he tells me, “but obviously I don’t ever want someone to feel like that. It was never my intention. But also, people do things, and then they have regrets, and that’s also nothing to do with me. Then don’t do pictures like that again … I’m okay with myself about everything, and that to me is the most important thing.”
The TL;DR version of Terry’s profile is that he’s a creepy pervert predator and he’s going to keep being a creepy pervert predator. Glad we could clear that all up. And who ever said, “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” should go ahead and add, “…unless the cover looks like Terry Richardson,” to the end of that saying.
The last time I farted something up about Johnny Weir and his on-and-off-and-on-and-off-again husband Victor Voronov, they were on again and then off again. Since then, they’ve continued to be on and off and continued to make the winter wonderland swans squirt out dull rhinestone tears of disappointment by being absolute messy, violent, trashy wrecks. Well, the winter wonderland swans are still crying, because over the weekend Johnny Weir allegedly attacked Victor again.
TMZ says that on Saturday night at their home in New Jersey, The Crystal Enchantress of the Ice got one scratch closer to becoming The Crystal Enchantress of the Cell Block when he allegedly scratched and slapped Victor after reading some shit he didn’t like on Victor’s cellphone. Victor went to the police the next day to report that mess and showed them pictures of the scratches. Victor only wanted to report the attack and wasn’t interested in keeping Johnny away with an emergency restraining order. A source (Hi, Victor!) tells TMZ that Johnny went through Victor’s phone and found some test messages where Victor talked shit about him. Victor claims he wrote the texts months ago and wrote them while they were going through a messy break-up.
Victor ran his ass over to Inside Edition and after he collected a cashiers check from them, he spilled his side of Saturday night’s scratch down.
“I was terrified. He was red. I said, if you don’t leave me alone, I will call the police. He would not leave me alone. So I had my phone; I was trying to call the police. So he attacked me to get the phone out of my hand.”
Here’s one of the scratches that Johnny allegedly gave Victor (Side question: Is that shaped like a broken heart or like a dead moth?):
These two messes have a history of Ike Turner-ing each other. Johnny Weir had to go to court in March for biting Victor during a fight and Johnny claimed in an interview with Access Hollywood that Victor has punched him several times.
We all know how this is going to go. They’re going to make up, renew their vows, get into another fight about some dumb shit, scratch at each other, file another police report, cry about it on Inside Edition and so and so and so on. They should both permanently have a seat in separate corners, because you know shit is past the point of no return when you make the Knowles-Carters look functional by comparison.
And in happy gay news, we can all get married in Oregon now! Let’s grow beards and toast to that with an artisanal beer!
Last night, executives at Katy Perry’s label tore up her contract while screaming, “Well, what do we have then?!”, after she told Jimmy Kimmel that she’s sick of doing sexy videos where her tits are hanging out. Katy told late-night STUNT QUEEN Jimmy Kimmel that his “biggest twerk fail ever” stunt inspired her to prank real children’s birthday parties for the video for her new single “Birthday.” Katy went undercover as 5 of the worst birthday entertainers and one of them was a trashy, drunk, thug clown (no, not Justin Bieber) who ruined a kid’s birthday party. That sounds like a fitting and a totally sensical video concept for a song that’s basically about how Katy Perry’s going to let her birthday boyfriend titty fuck her before he eats cake frosting off of her twat. Here’s a piece of the lyrics:
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big balloons
So let me get you in your birthday suit
It’s time to bring out the big, big, big, big, big, big balloons
Boy, when you’re with me
I’ll give you a taste
Make it like your birthday everyday
I know you like it sweet
So you can have your cake
Give you something good to celebrate
Anyway, Katy played Kimmel a clip where she traumatizes the children by failing to hit the pinata before stumbling into the street where she “causes” a car accident. Katy’s whole act was staged, but TMZ says that none of the children or parents were in on it. TMZ posted a longer clip and they say that scars grew on those children’s innocence as they cried and asked to go home.
Since my heart is a pile of dried-up vulture shit, I smile whenever I see kids crying over clowns, but those kids are total drama queens. So a drunk in a jacked-up outfit took over the pinata stick and ruined the party? Big deal. That happened at all of my birthday parties growing up. It could’ve been a lot worse and Katy could’ve really given those chirrun a reason to cry. I mean, she could’ve performed that “Birthday” song live for them.
The “Angie Jolie Look-Alike” Who Forced A Cabbie To Have Sex With Her At Knifepoint Got Four Years In Jail
And that’s called taking your Angelina Jolie impersonation to ILLEGAL levels of wrong.
The messy story of the Angelina Jolie look-alike (more like a melting Pete Burns wax figure look-alike) went viral two years ago, but the case recently went to trial where new fucked-up details came out. In 2012, 31-year-old Luminita Perijoc of Tulcea in Romania was arrested after a cab driver accused her of pulling a knife on him and forcing him to have sex with her twice before she stabbed him for not giving it to her a third time. The 35-year-old cab driver Nicolae Stan says that he was called to her apartment to deliver wine (Side question: Cab drivers bring you wine in Romania?!) and when he got to her apartment the crazy bitch grabbed him, pulled him inside and forced him to take his clothes off. After she forced him to have sex with her while holding a knife to his froat, she forced him to perform oral sex on her. When she wanted sex a third time, he turned her down and so she stabbed him six times. Nicolae somehow managed to run into a bathroom where he locked himself in and called the police.
When Luminita, who calls herself an Angelina Jolie look-alike, was arrested, she told the cops she was the victim. The NYDN says that the court found her guilty and she was originally sentenced to 5 years in prison, but when she claimed she was on “strong medication” at the time she attacked Nicolae, they reduced her sentence to 4 years. Nicolae told the court that he would’ve tried to overpower her, but he was afraid people would think he raped her. He tried to get out of there without hurting her. The married father of two told reporters that his life is ruined, because dumb shits are laughing at him for turning down an “Angelina Jolie look-alike“:
“They don’t understand why I refused her, but they do not know what it is like to have a mad woman yelling at you at knifepoint. They look at her, then look at me and laugh. But I think anyone would find it impossible to perform with a knife at their throat even if they were with Miss Romania.”
So she rapes him more than once, stabs him six times and he gets shit while she only gets 4 years in the clink? Is there a Romanian Nancy Grace, because if there is I need to hear her thoughts about this.
Meanwhile, a Jennifer Aniston look-alike was cited for trespassing in Latvia after she broke into a toy store to cuddle with the baby dolls.
Vogue is really going full troll for their April Fool’s Month issue with a Hobbit and a Gay Fish on the cover. Just like Ray-J’s boomerang dick over Kim Kardashian’s ass, pictures from the spread have leaked and they’re all made of one hundred percent ridiculousness, but this one of a scared North West and a maniacal Pimp Mama Kris takes it all. A dude with a tattoo sleeve throws a “ha, this is really happening” look as a suffocating Kim tries not to rip that too-small-dress open by breathing and PMK throws a creepy clown whore smile that any child should run from. The “looking for the nearest exit” side-eye that Baby Seaweed is giving tops it all off.
North is scared for her young life, because when you press your ear up to PMK’s face, you hear the sound of Lucifer cackling as his minions chant his name. North is also scared, because the last time she saw PMK holding a baby that close, PMK swallowed the baby whole before screaming about how her dark powers have been rejuvenated. So yeah, North isn’t exactly having a good time.
And seriously, this picture says so much.
Vogue didn’t stop there. The article is also full of foolery. Vogue’s Hamish Bowles did the interview and I’m guessing he strolled in, threw a blank notepad on the floor and said, “Write whatever you want, whores, I can’t with this. I’m going to Fatburger” instead. Because the article is full of delusional dingles like this:
“Anybody need anything?” asks the agelessly glamorous, apricot-skinned Kris, fluttering eyelashes as thick, long, and lustrous as a hummingbird’s wings. “Water? Vodka? Get on my train!” she laughs. “Just kidding!” Kris (who, as Kim notes, “goes by the name of Lovey, not Grandma!”) is an astute businesswoman and an executive producer of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, now in its eighth season. Her home office is stacked with Kardashian product and magazine spreads—there is even a framed copy of her estranged husband Olympic gold medalist Bruce Jenner’s 1979 GQ cover.
Are we sure HAMish didn’t run into Bruce Jenner instead and that’s who he’s describing in that paragraph? If by all of that Hamish means that PMK is “pathetically holding onto her youth,” has skin like Belphegor’s foreskin, eyelashes as thick and spiny as the tarantulas in the afterworld and is a shameless pimp, then he nailed it.
And in almost every picture, North West’s SOS face says it all and then some.
Pics: Vogue/Annie Leibovitz
Following the news that a nine-year-old Khloe Kardashian overheard her asshole mother say she needed a nose job, InTouch is reporting that Khloe’s Aunt Karen says Kris Jenner used to force Khloe to exercise as a child.
“Khloé might have been 4 or 5 years old when Kris would have me take her to classes to get exercise,” Karen tells In Touch. “I would take her a couple of times a week.”
At first glance, this could be any mother signing her kid up for Recreation Department gym class just so she can have 45 minutes alone a few times a week to pop into a bar and have a glass or two of crappy chardonnay. But this is PMK- the mother straight from Satan’s taint! It’s not really a stretch to think she would kiss Khloe goodbye when she was leaving for exercise class and say, “Mommy loves you! Go get skinny!“ Hell, I wouldn’t put it past Kris to put snapping turtles on the floor under the Johnny Jump when her kids were infants to motivate them to jump higher to work off some of that disgusting baby fat.
All that’s keeping this from being a trifecta of shitty mothering is a story about Kris taking all the kids to get ice cream and making Khloe wait in the car because she “doesn’t really need the calories” but you know it’s just a matter of fucking time.
Just when I thought Kris Jenner couldn’t be more of an asshole, the curtain gets pulled back a little more and all I can see are horns, cloven hooves and red eyes glowing in the dark. Khloe Kardashian did an interview with Cosmopolitan UK (via Daily Mail) and said this:
‘She didn’t mean harm, but when I was around nine I overheard my mom telling her friend I needed a nose job,‘ revealed the reality star.
‘I was shocked; I hadn’t even thought about it,‘ she said.
Since this is PMK we’re talking about, I’m sure she hinted at future improvements the minute Khloe was delivered (by scheduled c-section, of course). She probably held all her kids up to the light, tilting them this way and that while hissing, “Yessss, we can work with thisssss“. Hell, I’d bet she did the same thing with Bruce before agreeing to go out with him.
Khloe should have known the Play-Doh sets her mother gave her for Christmas were for the sole purpose of learning to mold her own post-op look. Maybe she put two and two together whenever Kris slapped Khloe’s hand away from her face whenever Khloe wanted to play Got Your Nose. Kris couldn’t afford to have anybody else touch that mangled blob of Silly Putty. One pinch and the entire thing would collapse on itself, leaving Kris looking like Mrs. Doubtfire’s face after it was run over by a truck.
Kate Gosselin hasn’t been completely useless in her tenure as a ball-busting shrew who will sacrifice anything to remain in the spotlight for a few more seconds. She’s provided many a TV watcher stress release in the form of chucking anything handy- remote control, lightweight toddler, vodka bottle (empty of course, let’s not get carried away)- at their screens. Her porcupine-flattened-on-the-side-of-the-road hairstyle that debuted in 2007 gave scrapbooking housewives everywhere more pages to hustle right by when showing off photo albums to friends and neighbors who could not give less of a crap, along with the off-shoulder, puffed sleeve wedding dress and straight legged acid wash Jordache jeans with the 14″ long zipper.
Kate’s latest contribution to the You’re Still Here? files is a cookbook titled “Kate Gosselin’s Love Is in the Mix: Making Meals into Memories”. Recipes include “Stewed Jon Balls”, “Slow Cooked Children’s Spirit Smothered In Crushed Dreams” and “Sugar Cookies Everyone In Group Therapy Is Going To Love”. Fine, that’s a fat lie but I wish.
Kate is being accused of cranking out a book filled with unhealthy recipes anybody with a can opener and a third grade reading level could pull off while tripping balls, as long as they had a hot plate and Jesus on their side. The recipes are getting more shade than a midget sitting in a forest for being basic as fuck, high in sodium and filled with about as much love as a $10 hand job in a gas station parking lot. Take it away, Amazon reviewers:
“Then we have recipes for applesauce, broccoli, hamburgers and boxed macaroni and cheese with tuna and peas! As someone had commented to me earlier it is no better than a dorm room cookbook.”
“Some pictures don’t match recipe. I’m not sure why this was even published.”
“Not very appealing or healthy. I now understand why there is a disclaimer when you first open the book.”
“My daughter and daughter-in-law would shoot me if I fed their children most of these recipes.”“This forced me to enter a star but the book does not deserve even one star. All she does is open cans and dump the contents.”
“Kate Gosselin has no more business putting out a cookbook than she does putting out a how to keep your man happy self help book!”
The Daily Mail says the book was ranked 10,039 on Amazon’s bestsellers list on Sunday, and also mentioned a sudden jump in positive reviews in the last few days. It must have been a busy weekend at the Gosselin household with Kate standing behind the kids, smacking a ruler on her hand and screaming, “NO. NEGATIVE. REVIEWS. EVER!!!’ while they each type from a script.