Quote of the Day
In today's Sunday Times Magazine, social critic Camille Paglia pulls out Lady Caca's tuck in a piece titled: "Lady Gaga and the death of sex." If you thought I had some serious feelings on Caca, then warm your eyeballs on the fire coming out of Camille's finger tips. Here's a few choice quotes:
She constantly touts her symbiotic bond with her fans, the “little monsters”, who she inspires to “love themselves” as if they are damaged goods in need of her therapeutic repair. “You’re a superstar, no matter who you are!” She earnestly tells them from the stage, while their cash ends up in her pockets. She told a magazine with messianic fervour: “I love my fans more than any artist who has ever lived.” She claims to have changed the lives of the disabled, thrilled by her jewelled parody crutches in the Paparazzi video.
Furthermore, despite showing acres of pallid flesh in the fetish-bondage garb of urban prostitution, Gaga isn’t sexy at all – she’s like a gangly marionette or plasticised android. How could a figure so calculated and artificial, so clinical and strangely antiseptic, so stripped of genuine eroticism have become the icon of her generation? Can it be that Gaga represents the exhausted end of the sexual revolution? In Gaga’s manic miming of persona after persona, over-conceptualised and claustrophobic, we may have reached the limit of an era…
The other day, I was waiting for the subway and a little girl pointed at an ad with a blonde chick on it and shouted, "Mom! Is that Lady Gaga?! Is that Lady Gaga? I love her!" Well, if Camille was there she would've asked me to hold her purse so she could slap the Gaganess out of that child. It's like DAMN!!!
The first part of Camille's Cacahaters manifesto is here and you can pay a pound to read the whole thing online. I'm saving my coins until I need a touching bedtime story to read later on.
Because I love it when old ass bitches talk about smacking young tricks who deserve it, here's a quote from 84-year-old Jerry Lewis that made me smile as though he was serenading me on his telethon. Jerry tells Inside Edition what he thinks Lindsay Lohan needs:
“I would smack her in the mouth if I saw her…I would say, ‘You deserve this and nothing else – whack!’ And then if she’s not satisfied, I’d put her over my knee and spank her. The same thing with Paris Hilton – those children are begging for help. What they’re doing is saying…‘Can you please help me?’ When people who have celebrity give nothing in return, they need a spanking and a reprimand.”
And you'll hold Parasite Hilton's purse while Jerry makes her crabs fly by slapping her ass. Actually, I'll hold it because she's got the good stuff in there.
Before St. Angie kept her forehead vein fresh and full by suckling on the testicle veins of her victims, she apparently tried a blood-free diet and it almost caused her to shrivel up and explode (think True Blood-style). At a press conference for Salt, St. Angie reportedly told a bunch of reporters without recording devices (because I couldn't find a clip of this shit):
"I joke that a big juicy steak is my beauty secret. But seriously, I love red meat. I was a vegan for a long time, and it nearly killed me. I found I was not getting enough nutrition."
Maddox better round up the army, because Peta is probably aiming their red paint canons at the Holy Church of Brangelina right now.
In case you've been asking yourself "What Would Brad Pitt Do?" in regards to the BP oil disaster, here's your answer.
During an interview for Spike Lee's HBO documentary about New Orleans, Brad Pitt put on all his chunky gold rings, asked Shiloh to hold his pocket book, and then spit out a few fightin' words at BP. Basically, Brad Pitt wants the executives at BP to join The Death Club. From HuffPo & USA Today:
'If God Is Willing and Da Creek Don't Rise' is a four-hour followup to Lee's 2006 film 'When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts.'
Lee landed an interview with Pitt, who owns a home in New Orleans with partner Angelina Jolie and whose Make It Right organization has built homes post-Katrina.
Reflecting on those responsible for the oil spill, Pitt can barely contain his contempt. "I was never for the death penalty before," he says. "I am willing to look at it again."
And then Brad Pitt's assistant strolled in to ask if he'd like the temperature in the Maybach to be at 70 or 73 degrees for the short ride to the helicopter that will take him to his private jet. NO! I'm making shit up again. It was an Escalade, not a Maybach!
Stepford Katie tells New York Magazine that 4-year-old Suri Cruise will probably replace Tim Gunn as the mentor on Project Runway next season, because she isn't afraid to give you the up and down if you're dressed like fug shit.
"I grew up the youngest of five, so there were a lot of hand-me-downs that I would sort of change up. And Suri and I do that now with her clothes. Or rather, she does it. She says, 'I want this sleeve cut,' and it’s like, 'Okay, we’ll cut it.' She picks out all of her own clothes and has since she was 1½. Tom and I went to the Met ball a couple of years ago, and I had this beautiful red gown and these royal-blue shoes that I wasn’t planning on wearing, but Suri made me put them on and so I was like, 'Okay, I trust you.'
But seriously, Suri needs to take classes at Parsons or some shit, because Katie always looks like....well...like she's been dressed by a toddler. Unless Suri dresses her like that on purpose just to fuck with her. That's probably the case. Suri is only around those two ass drips all day, so she has to entertain herself somehow.
And Stepford Katie also confirmed that Suri's the one holding the whip in that family.
"We have quite a schedule, you know? We don't say, 'When I'm working, you don't work,' or anything like that. Last year he was shooting Knight and Day and I was shooting The Romantics, and we'd just fly to see each other after we wrapped. And we homeschool Suri--she has a teacher (aka L. Ron Hubbard's hologram) who is with her every day. We like the one-on-one education. I'm happy that my daughter is strong-willed and determined. You really have to go with what the child is wanting."
Inception's Tom Hardy admitted in an interview to licking on a few pairs of peen lips back in the day, and now he's telling Men's Health UK about his days as a drunked up whorey mess of all messes. Tom really knows to crawl into my heart with words. Tom plumped up his lips and cooed:
"I thought I'd have a little bit of a party, and I'd end up high and frightened, in places that scared me. In a blackout I could end up anywhere. I might wake up somewhere the other side of London, or in another country. Or in bed with someone I didn't know, not knowing how I got there. Bleeding. This was on a daily basis. And I was going to work. I didn't want to appear rock 'n' roll. I didn't want anyone to know I was out of control, but I couldn't hide it. Eventually, the body gives up. My body told me. I was completely kaput. I was lucky I didn't get hepatitis or AIDS."
Frightened? Scared? Blacking out? Bleeding? Waking up in a different country? Was Tom partying with Amy Wino? Or maybe he went out with Gerard Butler, because when you go out with that bitch you will end up nekkid on the floor of a jail cell somewhere surrounded by a bunch of foreign police officers spraying you down with funny smelling liquid. It's guaranteed!
If you're a mother who does not breastfeed her newborn baby, Gisele Buttchin thinks you should be imprisoned immediately and forced to hand over your kid to Salma Hayek. Or something along those lines.
Gisele, who has been a mother for all of 8-months, thinks there should be a law on the books that states all mothers should squirt chichi leche into their babies' mouths NO MATTER WHAT! Gisele tells Harper's Bazaar (via Press Associated):
"I think breastfeeding really helped me keep my figure. Some people here (in the US) think they don't have to breastfeed, and I think 'Are you going to give chemical food to your child when they are so little?' I think there should be a worldwide law, in my opinion, that mothers should breastfeed their babies for six months."
The highly important committee that is in charge of passing worldwide laws will get on that as soon as they pass a law stating that Gisele Bundchen needs to keep her pie hole shut in public. No, but seriously...
I don't know how easy breastfeeding is, but I'm sure if every mother could do it she would. I mean, why waste your money on formula when you can spend it on painkillers and other substances that will ease your nerves when baby is screeching in the middle of the night. Right?
And what about Barbie? If Barbie was a real-life human being she wouldn't physically be able to breastfeed, because bitch doesn't have any damn nipples*! Baby can polish its gums on her titties, but that's about it! Gis needs to think about Barbie before she speaks!
*Barbie doesn't have a vagina either, but that little fact doesn't work with my point!
I once was dazzled by a chorus of glittery hearts floating around me right after I bit into a pepperoni Hot Pocket, so I don't need St. Angelina Jolie to shed a tear for me. But those of you who have never experienced true love should take a little comfort in knowing that the almighty holy one feels sorry for you. In an interview with Parade (you can read the whole thing here), St. Angie lays it on thick when talking about love:
"I feel sad for someone who has never known love. Love elevates. You know, Brad would joke about me having this conversation about love. Love? It's such a funny word. Brad can find certain phrases of poetry for it. I'm terrible at it. But I know it means wanting the best for the people you love, putting their interests above your own, always. Love does that. Love is what you live for."
St. Angie needs to stop, because she's giving cheese an inferiority complex. The cherubs stopped shooting people with love, because they were too busy using their arrows to gag themselves after reading this mess of a quote. Even Aphrodite texted St. Angie to let her know that she's going a little overboard.
And someone really needs to get Maddox to sneak into Billy Goat Brad's barn and steal his book of original poetry. You know Brad's soul burps out some deep shit like: "Roses are red, violets are blue, Jennifer Aniston is a meanie, but I wuv you."
In Kendra's first book "Sliding Into Home" (Do what you will with that title), she talks about the first time she ever got it on with Hef and it pretty much sounds like the most romantic experience ever. Instead of Barry White playing in the background, they were serenaded by the hum from Hef's blood pressure machine. Instead of flickering candles, the room was lit up by the nekkid peroxide blondes awaiting their turn to leave their dignity on Hef's shriveled crotch worm. I'll let Kendra tell you the rest in her own words:
"One of the girls asked me if I wanted to go upstairs to Hef’s room. In my head I could hear my mom’s voice, ‘You know they have orgies there.’ I said 'Okay, if I have to.' It seemed like every other girl was going and if I didn’t it would be weird. One by one, each girl hopped on Hef and had sex with him for about a minute. I studied their every move. Then it was my turn, it was very weird. I wasn’t thinking about how much older Hef was, all the body parts worked the same. I wanted to be there."
Basically if you're one of Hef's hos, you wait in line to grab the defibrillator pad from the skank before you so that you can jumpstart his heart again before mounting and pumping him. Then when Hef's heart stops, that's your cue to hand the pad off to the next trick and join the others in the shower room next door where they are all on the floor silently weeping into their hands. Sign us all up, because that sounds like an orgy ride none of our genitals can miss!
Nerve asked a few Juggalos and Juggalettes including Dirty Byrd (above) to give out sex advice and to also share stories of all the magic that goes on at shows. Below is Dirty Byrd's answer to the question: "What's the craziest thing you've seen at a Juggalo event?"
Oh shit, where do I start? I was at a Miss Juggalette Pageant one night and I saw a girl get onstage and shove a twelve-inch kielbasa up her neden hole. Juggalos can’t dance, you know? So I guess they got to do something. Oh, we call vaginas nedens.
Kielbasa? Was there not a bottle of Faygo around to shove up her neden hole? What kind of Juggalette is she?