Here’s the 17-year-old Canadian Jesus Justin Bieber posing with his dad Vanilla Ice Jeremy Bieber after they both got Jesus tattooed on their torsos in Hebrew a couple of months ago. Where are the pictures of Jeremy dunking Justin’s head in a bowl of Summer’s Eve and wrapping him in an Ed Hardy blanket, because this shit looks like scenes straight from a douchetism.

The Lesbeaver’s skin looks as fragile as a swan’s hymen, so I don’t even know he can take a tattoo. When the tattoo artist touched Justin’s with the needle, he probably flinched for a minute thinking that pinata candy was going to spill out.

Jesus and God better step away from the needle and not even thinking of getting matching Bieber tattoos on their torsos in Comic Sans.

And about Jeremy Bieber… Sometimes I get sentimental about the porn stars who taught me how to love (see: fap) in my teens and so I’ll Google them to see what they look like today. Nine times out of nine, they look just like Jeremy Bieber. You know, they look like a dude who you can usually find shirtless in the middle of a Kroger, buying Amstel Light after getting fired from his 5th plumbing job in a row for giving the shocker to the office assistants.

Please don’t ask me if I would with the peen that shot out Justin Bieber 17 years ago. I’m not that fucking sick or hard up… Okay, I would.

File this under: It’s way too early for this NSFWish shit. And cross file it under: Dlisted’s new anthem!

If Ke$ha fell out of an Italian uterus instead of an American one, this is definitely what she would sing during her middle school talent show. Meet Italy’s very own Gionny Scandal, Pedobear’s very Italian pop star and a singing prostitot who definitely gets all her lyrics translations from Google. And I’m thankful that she did, because if any bitch can butcher an English translation and turn it into poetry salad, it’s Google. The line “Tonight I’m feeling to make you enjoy with a blowjob/I want to feel in my throat” is so damn beautiful that I’m going to use it in the signature for all my Craigslist Casual Encounters ads.

Yes Gionny’s fucked up teefs make her look like she’s only given blow jobs to screwdriver drills set on high. Yes, Gionny’s spoog splash dress reminds you of the time you asked your dry cleaner if they could get out a goat milk stain. Yes, the Jay Baruchel looking rapper in this ILLEGAL mess gave me the tingles for a quick minute until he wasted a whole can of whipped cream. Yes, watching this prequel to Hostel mess is about as uncomfortable as watching a homeless man lick on a Monte Carlo poster in a subway station (true story).

But you have to give Gionny some credit for making Bert’s Muppet nipples hard with the way she pronounces the word “horny.” Ernie’s (and probably yours too) official response is:

Source: Europopped via ONTD

Casey Anthony is locked up in jail until this Sunday, but the voices inside Shireen Nalley’s head didn’t let her in on that little fact. News9.com reports that rage and revenge took over Shireen’s crazy gene when she walked into a convenience store in Chouteau, Oklahoma on Friday night and spotted Sammay Blackwell working behind the counter. Police say that Shireen thought she was looking into the murderous eyes of an acquitted baby murderer. Shireen paid for her gas and calmly walked out. Sammay got a weird vibe from Shireen but didn’t think anything of it. Insert Suspense Cat here.

After Sammay’s shift ended, she got into her car and was about to make her way home to her daughter named (insert Suspense Cat: The Sequel here) CAYLEE! (Do not whisper that piece of information to any of Shireen’s personalities.) When Sammay turned her head to back out, she saw the crazy burning white fire into Shireen’s eyes. Sammay backed out and drove away, but Shireen wasn’t going to let “Casey Anthony” off that easy. Shireen rammed her car into Sammay’s truck causing it to flip over two and a half times. Sammay played dead in her truck until the police showed up.

The police think Shireen was high on the bad shit and one officer claims that she said she hit Sammay’s truck to “save the children” and stop “the killing of babies.” Sammay believes that Shireen thought she was Casey Anthony.

Shireen was charged with assault and battery with a deadly weapon, leaving the scene of a vehicle collision, resisting arrest, reckless driving and for believing that all white people look the same.

First of all, Sammay is a really hot name and that’s what I’d name my next dog if I wasn’t afraid that Shireen would run over it with her car. Second of all, my nutsack looks more like Casey Anthony than Sammay does. Third of all, Giada DeWhatever better change her face STAT because it looks more and more likely that Casey Anthony will go under the knife to look like her.

Fourth of all, I didn’t think I’d ever say this to a black woman ever, but I’m mistaking Shireen for Nancy Grace right about now. Yes, Shireen sort of looks like Kyle Massey, but her Nancy Grace gene is the dominant one.

via Slate

Father Andrés García Torres, a Spanish Catholic priest, is in danger of losing his position at his parish in Madrid after Bishop Getafe saw this picture of him hugging on a young Cuban seminarian and declared that some ESCANDALOSO Oh-mo-sex-oo-ahl-ish shit must be going on. If two dudes are side hugging in a picture it must mean that they were just side fucking until the stained glass windows blew out, obviously.

Bishop Getafe is so sure that the hot piece on the left made the sign of the father, the son and the holy ghost on Father Andrés’ asshole with his peen that the bishop is calling for the father’s resignation, a psychiatric evaluation and an HIV test. Father Andrés Unibrow denies the shit that is coming out of Bishop Getafe’s mouth and says that his madre is wailing through the streets about this. Father Andrés will travel to Rome to try to prove that he’s just friends with the seminarian and that the bishop is pushing him out of his parish without any proof. And then the literary angels cried when Father Andrés said this:

” Let them measure my anus and see if it is dilated.”

I was about to clutch my pearls with my hands, but one of the lips of my way too dilated anus just reached around, crawled up and did it for me. Let’s translate this work of poetry into Google Spanish and see if it has the same effect:

“Vamos a medir mi ano y ver si se dilata.”

This time both of my anus lips clutched my pearls! And I thought that Lindsay Lohan’s “move that cone” line was the quote of the week, but nope. “Let them measure my anus” is the new “Show me the receipts!”

This reminds me of something one of my friends said. He said that b-holes are sort of like tree trunks: you can tell how long they’ve been around by how many rings (or lines) they have. Oh, hell, I have probably the mighty oak of assholes. If you peered into it, you’d probably see the face of a wise old woman who would tell you to follow your heart and dance through the colors of the wind. Then you’d bring your white ship captain to meet the old lady in my asshole and ask for her approval. NO GRACIAS. That is why Father Andrés is braver (and less dilated in the anus) than me, because I’d never let anyone closely examine my Grandmother Willow asshole under bright lights.

And Bishop Getafe ain’t shit! That shady bitch is up to something. I bet that Bishop Getafe will take Father Andrés up on that offer and show up to the anus measuring ceremony with ruler marks on his peen. I see you, Bishop Getafe!

via Free Thinker (Thanks to everybody who sent this in!)

Who ever is in charge of moving the puppet strings that work Katie Holmes’ mouth should pull back a bit, because lately it seems that secrets we shouldn’t know about are starting to trip off her tongue and it won’t be long before she accidentally tells us that she’s digging an escape tunnel with a fork behind the cum shot dart board of Becks Tommy Girl has down in his dungeon.

For example, Katie tells InStyle (via CM) about how she regularly buys maternity clothes even though she’s not planning to put her uterus under the hologram hand of L. Ron Hubbard during a Scientology conception ceremony anytime soon. Katie is buying knocked up uniforms for her 5-year-old daughter Suri, because she wants her to have a wardrobe of pretty maternity clothes when she gets pregnant.

If a room full of grown up Suri mannequins wearing maternity clothes isn’t enough to make Suri RUUUUUUUN, then I don’t know what is. Katie said:

“I will buy something with her in mind, thinking it’s gonna look so great on her when she’s 25 or whatever.

I have a lot of things that I’ve already set aside, as well as some of my old maternity clothes so that she (can) wear them when she’s having a daughter or son.”

This is totally the part in the movie where we all find out that Suri’s life has been planned out from the beginning and her blueprint is folded into a black book held by Anthony Mackie! Why would I not be surprised if John Slattery walked through one of my living room walls to erase this quote from my brain with an electronic wand? WE KNOW TOO MUCH!

Why is Katie’s dumb robot ass so sure that Suri will bear a barley-addict heir to the Scientology throne? Suri could grow up to do what most children of fucked up parents do: wrap her womb in Ortho Evra patches, make a vow to never have babies and then join the cast of The Bad Girls Club.

Katie also gave an answer to the question that’s been plaguing your mind area. No, not the question, “What the hell do I do with Google+ now?!” I’m talking about the question, “Why does Suri’s arms always think it’s summer?“

“Recently, Suri and I were taking a walk and a fight got started because it was cold outside and she didn’t want to wear her coat. My philosophy is, well, fine, because after a block of walking you’re going to ask me for your coat. So the pictures of her [without a coat in cold weather] are sort of embarrassing, but I said, “Suri, I’ll take the hit. Just put it on when you get cold.”

I’m no longer going to give Suri shit for not wearing a coat outside. Obviously, she’s just overheated from practicing for her future by walking around the house with a baby pillow strapped to her body.

Michael Todd, the bassist for the band Coheed and Cambria (Google them, you dumb fuck!), earned himself the perfect “I knew I hit rock bottom when…” story to tell in rehab yesterday when he robbed a Walgreens pharmacy for some OxyContin just hours before his band opened for Soundgarden at the Comcast Center in Mansfield, Massachusetts.

The New York Post reports that at about 1pm on Sunday, Michael Todd did the withdrawal strut into a Walgreens in Attleboro and showed a pharmacy employee a note on his cell phone that said he will detonate a bomb if they don’t hand over a bunch of OxyContin pills. After the employee handed Michael six bottles of Oxy, he jumped into a taxi and headed back to the venue. With a little help from the taxi dispatcher, the police tracked Michael down at the Comcast Center and busted him for armed robbery and possession of a controlled substance. The band went on without him and later said this on their Tumblr:

Michael Todd was arrested today on what we consider very serious charges and therefore he will not be finishing up the current tour. Wes Styles, long time member of the Coheed family will take on bass duties starting tomorrow for the remaining dates. No shows will be canceled.

We are surprised to say the least and will address the situation with Michael after the tour. For now, we just want to have a great time out here and finish with some killer shows in Boston, Poughkeepsie, Quebec City and Halifax.

Why in hillbilly hell did this happen? Couldn’t Michael Todd have politely asked for some Oxy on his tour rider? Couldn’t Michael Todd sniff up Chris Cornell’s ass in hopes that maybe just maybe he’d snort up some bad shit that never made it out? Couldn’t Michael Todd just snort up a line of OxyClean and cotton bits and just told his brain to believe (detonate the GONG for that one, I deserve it). Couldn’t Michael Todd have done ANYTHING besides rob a damn Walgreens and use a taxi as a getaway car?! Those who say that the worst side effect for drug addiction is dumbfuckery might be right.

And Michael Todd’s sad mug shot just says it all. That’s the same look Harper Seven is going to make when she realizes that Posh & Becks named her Harper Seven.