Oh boy. Normally I would be the first in line to make fun of Vin Diesel (there is so goddamned much to pick from, it’s like an all-you-can-eat buffet. If The Chronicles of Riddick is your starter salad, then The Pacifier is two trips to the waffle bar) but I cannot make fun of Vin Diesel this week. I can’t, because I know there will be a very special management position waiting for me at the Crocs factory in Hell if I do.
Paul Walker passed away on November 30th, and since then we’ve heard from his Fast and the Furious co-stars Michelle Rodriguez, Tyrese Gibson, and finally Vin Diesel let us know how he was holding up. Vin spent most of yesterday publicly mourning Paul Walker’s death, first via a Facebook message, then later appearing at the crash site to make a statement of thanks to the crowd. Vin’s voice is a little muffled in the video because he’s speaking through a police megaphone (why didn’t the cops bring him a karaoke machine to sing into instead? Missed opportunities) but The Huffington Post has transcribed what was said:
“If my brother were here right now and saw all the love that you’re bringing here,” he said. “‘If he could see for himself that all of you have showed up to show my brother love at this hard time, and that his family gets to see all of you show the love that you’ve shown Paul … It’s gonna stay with me forever. I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for coming down here and showing that angel up in heaven how much you appreciated him.”
There’s still a lot we don’t know about the cause of Paul Walker’s death; some reports are saying that the Porsche he was riding in malfunctioned, that they were driving too fast, and that the car shouldn’t have been driven. Either way, an autopsy is currently underway to determine the cause of death (I have no formal coroner’s training, but I’m going to go out on a limb and assume the cause of death was “fire”).
So basically, to sum it all up, everyone involved with the Fast and the Furious franchise is having a shit week and we should send good thoughts and jpegs of sleeping kittens their way.
The Hollywood Reporter says that Universal executives and the director of Fast & Furious 7, James Wan, had a conference call this morning to decide what to do with that shit. They were in the middle of shooting scenes in Atlanta and were taking a break for the Thanksgiving holiday. Paul Walker and the rest of the cast were supposed to fly back to Atlanta today to continue filming and after that they were scheduled to shoot scenes in Abu Dhabi in January. James and the executives had a meeting this morning, because everybody was asking (nobody was asking), “But what about that car movie?!”
THR says that Universal and James made the decision to not shelve the movie completely, but they did agree that they should press pause on filming since the crew and the cast need time to mourn Paul Walker and don’t really give three queefs about that Fast & Furious shit right now. They aren’t sure when shooting will pick up again. Since Paul Walker’s character is in a lot of the scenes they haven’t shot yet, they’re deciding how to re-write and rework the scenes.
In other Paul Walker news, the driver of the red Porsche Carrera GT has been identified as Roger Rodas, Paul’s friend and the CEO of his automotive company Always Evolving. Paul and Roger became friends because they both loved cars. Witnesses tell People that as the car show/charity event was ending, Paul and Roger took the Porsche for a joyride behind the Always Evolving warehouse in a business park. (Here’s a picture of Paul with the Porsche hours before the crash) The Los Angeles County sheriff said in a statement that speed was a factor in the crash, but a witness type says that they didn’t drive off recklessly since children were around including Paul’s 15-year-old daughter Meadow. Fifteen minutes after Paul and Roger took off, everyone heard a loud crash and we all know what happened next.
And in my post about Paul’s death, I forgot to include Vin Diesel’s tweets:
Brother, I will miss you very much. Heaven has gained a new angel. Rest in peace xxx
— Vin Diesel (@REAL_VinDiesel) December 1, 2013
Although I'm totally heartbroken to of lost a brother….I feel honoured and blessed to of known such a wonderful guy pic.twitter.com/Hu0dnHiCRC
— Vin Diesel (@REAL_VinDiesel) December 1, 2013
Yes, I read those tweets while listening to Vin’s cover of “Stay.” It’s the only way to read them.
And here’s another “NOOOOOOOOOO” from me to echo along with all the other “NOOOOOOs” you’ve already heard about this shitty, shitty news. TMZ and everybody else reported and confirmed that Paul Walker and his friend both died in a car crash this afternoon in Santa Clarita, CA. Paul was only 40.
TMZ’s sources say that Paul’s friend was driving a Porsche Carrera GT at around 3:30 this afternoon when the driver lost control of the car and hit a tree or light post. The car burst into flames immediately. When firefighters and deputies arrived, the car was a fire ball and after they put it out, they found Paul and his friend inside. Paul’s Facebook confirmed the news:
It is with a truly heavy heart that we must confirm that Paul Walker passed away today in a tragic car accident while attending a charity event for his organization Reach Out Worldwide. He was a passenger in a friend’s car, in which both lost their lives. We appreciate your patience as we too are stunned and saddened beyond belief by this news. Thank you for keeping his family and friends in your prayers during this very difficult time. We will do our best to keep you apprised on where to send condolences. – #TeamPW
TMZ originally said that Paul just bought the Porsche GT and was letting his friend take it for a ride, but they later heard that the car didn’t belong to Paul. Paul was in production for the 7th Fast & Furious movie.
Paul is survived by his 15-year-old daughter Meadow.
Well, this is just a whole lot of sad and I really didn’t know what to say, so I went to Michelle Rodriguez’s Twitter to see what she had to say since most of my thoughts are best expressed through hers, but she’s silent.
Rest in peace, Paul Walker.
A couple of weeks ago, Charlie Sheen and Brooke Mueller’s twin boys, Bob and Max, were taken out of Denise Richards’ house and placed with Brooke’s brother Scott. Scott lives far away and Brooke didn’t want to pull the twins out of their school, so he moved into her house with the boys. Denise probably let out an exhale of relief, because she was done with Brooke’s crazy, cracked-out ass and the twins were no longer around to slowly murder her animals and daughters. But just when Denise was starting to think it was going to be a quiet Thanksgiving, the cops knocked on her door and told her that Brooke accused her of abusing the twins and her own daughters. What a wonderful Thanksgiving gift!
TMZ says that last night, cops showed up to Denise’s house and told her they needed to question her about abuse claims made against her. Denise told the cops that Brooke is being “vindictive” and the claims are “ridiculous.” Denise also told the cops that she hasn’t seen the boys in 2 weeks, so it’s funny that Brooke is screaming “ABUSE!” now. Brooke also hasn’t had any contact with Denise’s daughters. If anything comes from Brooke’s accusation, Denise’s daughters will have to be interviewed.
The Department of Children and Family Services is already handling an abuse claim between Brooke and Denise. When Denise still had temporary custody of the twins, she noticed a welt on one of the boys’ faces when he came back from spending the weekend with Brooke. Brooke apparently told CPS that she thinks he got the welt while he was at Denise’s house.
So I guess this means that Brooke and the crack pipe are one again? Denise Richards abusing kids? Ridiculous. Pepaw Irv would never let her get away with that. Wait, unless Denise Richards committed one of the most horrific forms of abuse by making her children and the twins watch her performance as Dr. Christmas Jones in The World is Not Enough. If that’s the abuse Brooke is talking about, then throw that child-abusing Denise in the clink!
UPDATE: E! says that Brooke’s boys told her that Denise Richards didn’t hit their asses, someone “associated” with Denise did. That person allegedly hit the twins on the head and back. The person also hit Denise’s girls, allegedly. Please don’t let it be Pepaw Irv, please don’t let it be Pepaw Irv.
Must refrain from making the easy joke that everybody has already made…. Must refrain from making the easy joke that everybody has already made…. (“This is a first.” – you)
Sylvia Browne, the psychic blossom with luscious peroxide petals and delicately drawn eyebrows, has gone off to the afterworld today at the age of 77. TMZ says that Sylvia died this morning in San Jose with her sons, her husband and the rest of her family and friends around her. No cause of death was given, but I’m sure if you call up Miss Cleo, she’ll use her “psychic abilities” to tell you what happened. Sylvia’s family left this on her Facebook page today:
World renowned spiritual teacher, psychic icon, author, and lecturer Sylvia Celeste Browne passed away at 7:10am this morning (Wednesday, November 20) at Good Samaritan Hospital in San Jose, CA. Born October 19, 1936, Browne was 77 years old.
For nearly six decades, Sylvia Browne dedicated her life to helping others as a spiritual guide through private readings, past-life regressions and prayer groups that spanned the globe.
Having been called upon to assist individuals, families, and law enforcement agencies across the U.S. and Canada on criminal investigations, she worked tirelessly as an advocate for justice, receiving several commendations for the positive impact her contributions provided.
Those of us who were kids in the 90s know Sylvia Browne from watching Montel Williams after school. Sylvia had this segment called “Sylvia Browne Wednesdays” and she would answer questions from audience members. She was usually dead ass wrong, but she was entertaining. Montel gave this statement about the death of a daytime psychic queen:
“A beacon that shined for so many was extinguished today, but its brightness was relit and will now shine forever for many of us from above. I, like so many of you, lost a friend today. But, as has been for the last twenty years, she’ll always remain a part of me. My thoughts and prayers go out to Sylvia’s family in this time of loss.”
You can say what you want about Sylvia and point me toward all the websites and videos that claim she’s a fraud, a fake and a grifter, but I know we can all agree that she knew how to deliver a serious glamour shot. Don’t deny it. She was a master at the chin-on-hand pose and knew how to work the glue off of those Press-On nails.
R.I.P. Sylvia Browne.
Watching a swirling vortex of drunkass sloppiness can be entertaining. We all have that friend or relative who goes from zero to “watch this, fuckers!” in no time and the result can be anything from an ambitious pick up of the opposite sex that was doomed to fail from the start, to a drunk construction project whose story will go down in history as “…and that’s how the deck that slopes to the left was built”. Only the blackest of hearts wouldn’t cheer for the flip-flopular success (thanks for quitting my ass, spell check) of this guy, the patron saint of the wasted at Coachella.
There comes a time when drunk stops being funny and starts to be sad, and Jenna Jameson has been setting up camp in that territory for years. Most recently, her handlers gave her a flea dip, slapped her on the ass and sent her out on the talk show circuit to promote her erotic novel Sugar where she all but dozed off during an interview. Drunk comfy is the best kind of comfy when you’re at home and nothing sounds better than taking your pants off and building a pillow fort out of couch cushions, not for when you need to pull it together for a payday after your house goes into foreclosure and you’re close to hopping back on professional dick to make some money.
Radar has a leaked video of Jenna taking the alcoholic sads to a new level. The surveillance from cameras in the house she shared with Baby Huey shows her reaching behind the nightstand in her bedroom for a bottle of wine and drinking it through various time stamps, sometimes while her twins are in the room on the computer. Jenna also moves through the house on different dates with a ladder like Bob the Builder, if Bob was an inebriated lizard used in lab trials of facial fillers, smashing the cameras with a hammer.
I do have to give her credit for being surprisingly steady on that ladder. That is some pro-level intoxication to not be holding onto something for dear life and using both hands to lay down some Hulk shit on those cameras. If it wasn’t so damn depressing, I’d be jealous- two drinks and I’m convinced the world is flat.
And there’s nine words that’ll mess up a CPS officer’s weekend and make them call their family to say, “You probably won’t be hearing from me for a while. I haven’t been kidnapped, it’s just that Brooke Mueller’s kids are living with her again. Yeah.”
Yesterday, it was reported that the head bitches at The Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services were trying to convince Denise Richards to keep Charlie Sheen’s twins, Bob and Max, for just a few more weeks. Denise’s errrrr-ed at their request, because 4-year-old Bob and Max have been terrorizing her dogs and her daughters and she doesn’t know how much more she can take. Well, Denise’s dogs have been saved from getting choked out by a child, because TMZ says that a judge has moved temporary guardianship of the twins from Denise Richards to Brooke’s brother Scott Mueller. Scott lives far away from Brooke and the judge doesn’t want to rip the boys out of their school, so the judge agreed to let him and the boys move in with Brooke. “What a WONDERFUL idea,” said only Brooke and her dealer since she’s going to get that child support money now.
DCFS’ definition of “slow” is different than everyone else’s definition of “slow,” because during their mediation with Denise and Brooke yesterday they said that the plan is to sloooooooowly reintroduce the twins into Brooke’s life before she gets full custody again. And now they’re moving back in. SLOW! So the judge had two options:
1. Let Scott Mueller move the twins into his house and put them in a different school, which might not be the worst idea since they allegedly slapped down their teacher.
2. Let Max and Bob move back in with one of the parents who is responsible for drowning their childhood in a pipe full of dirty crack pipe water and will probably continue to fuck their lives all the way up.
A smart choice by that judge!
I’m just going to say the same exact thing I said when I got on a flight from L.A. to NYC and realized that the three large coffees with extra cream I just downed were starting to turn my asshole into the most terrifying volcano ever: This really isn’t going to end well for everybody involved.
And Charlie responded to the judge’s ruling by saying this:
“This pig circus overflowing with buffoons, sycophants and heretics cannot be trusted to safely raise a colony of ferrets. Brooke will fail and her brother [who lives by the beach] will be selling his ass under a pier and the evil nanny will die from ugly. When, not if, this psychotic and desperately irresponsible sham goes sideways, DCFS will burn to the ground, topped off with the smoldering robe of the judge.”
That’s some “if Shakespeare was a crackhead” shit.
TMZ had a lovely and uplifting (read: the opposite of that shit) story this morning about how Denise Richards told The Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services that she can no longer take care of Charlie Sheen and Brooke Mueller’s 4-year-old twins, Bob and Max, because the boys kick her dogs in the head (Side note: Yes, I went and listened to “You Kicked My Dog” right after reading that), tell her they want to kill her dogs, beat on her daughters and have slapped a teacher at school. The twins are a nightmare come to life and Denise blames it all on Brooke. CPS also has pictures of Bob with a red welt on the side of his face and it apparently showed up after he spent the weekend with Brooke and Brooke’s mom. In case you’re still not sure why the boys of a cracked out, insane warlock with burnt anus lips for brains and a crackhead mess would act like that, here’s another reason why.
Just a day after a judge refused to give Brooke a restraining order against Charlie, he wished the mother of his twin boys a really belated birthday (her birthday’s in August, but he’s on crackhead time so…) by tweeting a picture of a grenade on top of some nasty looking dry ass cake with this touching note:
Yes, celebrate the victory of Brooke not getting a restraining order against you by telling her ass to die. What’s the opposite of winning again? And why does Charlie Sheen act like sucking off an entire Home Depot parking lot is a bad thing?
So, Bob and Max have these two ass warts for parents and now Denise Richards doesn’t want to take care of them anymore. Is Sister Kate’s orphanage still open, because she might be their only hope.
On last night’s episode of The Simpsons (which was supposed to be a re-run of the classic episode Bart The Lover, but that didn’t happen due to “technical difficulties“), the show paid tribute to the late Marcia Wallace, the voice of Mrs. Krabappel who is now HA!-ing at the angels in heaven, by showing a sads-stricken Bart writing the words “We’ll Really Miss You Mrs. K” on the chalkboard. Bart will probably tell your ass that he only looks weepy-eyed because that chalk kicks up a lot of dust.
The Simpsons producers Al Jean said that they will retire Mrs. K. I hope that means that in a future episode, that creepy, NOT RIGHT ho Ned Flanders will learn that Mrs. K finally realized that he’s the black widower of Springfield and was coming for her next, so she quit that bitch and is now living in London where she’s the dominatrix of choice to high-powered businessmen.
And the episode closed with this:
via Warming Glow
I thought that since Lou Reed made out of the 70s alive that would outlive us all. But today, Rolling Stone reports some news that’ll make you want to grab your iPhone, go under the covers and play “Sunday Morning“ over and over again until today is over. They say that the legendary Lou Reed died today. He was 71.
Lou’s cause of death hasn’t been released yet, but he had been dealing with liver problems. He underwent a liver transplant back in May and afterward, he wrote on his website that he was “bigger and stronger.”
Rolling Stone has a pretty thorough bio of Lou Reed’s life from when he formed the band the Primitives (which later became the Velvet Underground) in the 60s to his solo career in the 70s to his collaborations with his wife Laurie Anderson. I read through Lou’s Wikipedia page just right now and one thing I didn’t know is that when he was a teenager, he got electroshock therapy because some crazy doctors said it would cure his bisexuality.
“They put the thing down your throat so you don’t swallow your tongue, and they put electrodes on your head. That’s what was recommended in Rockland County to discourage homosexual feelings. The effect is that you lose your memory and become a vegetable. You can’t read a book because you get to page 17 and have to go right back to page one again.”
—Lou Reed quoted in Please Kill Me (1996)
The fuck. I guess I’ll be reading the rest of Please Kill Me today.
Rest in peace, Lou Reed…