Today will no doubt be a very confusing day for the Facetune app on Kim Kardashian’s phone. For the first time since it was downloaded from the app store, it won’t be opened every sixteen seconds to play fast and loose with reality, like it usually is. But it doesn’t have to worry, because there’s a very important reason for why Kim won’t be posting any selfies today. Kim and several other celebrities have vowed to stay off Facebook and Instagram for 24 hours today, to protest Facebook’s failure to address their hate speech problem.
Madonna managed to take time from her busy schedule, which basically consists of flaunting COVID rules, posting nudes from her bathtub, and clearing space on her mantle for a Father of the Year trophy, to show us that she’s (probably) not losing it because she’s currently busy working on the details of her life. Madge and Oscar-winning screenwriter, Diablo Cody, got together again on Thursday to hammer out the details of her long career. And since Diablo recently adapted (Madonna’s Maverick protegé) Alanis Morissette’s Jagged Little Pill for the stage, the thought was that maybe Madge would be getting the Broadway treatment. But instead, it looks like we’re getting a full-blown biopic that won’t cover Madonna’s entire life, since you know, she’s still alive.
Just when I had all but given up on the world, Digital Information World swoops in to restore my faith in humanity. According to DIW, Hopper HQ’s 4th annual Instagram Rich List just named The Rock the most bankable celebrity on the platform, beating the previous year’s winner Kylie Jenner. Look I know it may not be much, but even an incredibly obscure and essentially meaningless list I’d never heard of before today proclaiming a decrease in Kylie Jenner’s appeal, is enough to keep me from sticking my head in the oven on this particular overcast Thursday afternoon. However, I’m keeping that shit preheated because I also learned that The Rock “enjoys a net worth of $1,015,000 per post” you know, as a treat.
Earlier this year when Lana Del Rey turned up at the Grammys rocking what looked like a $40 Chico’s dress and makeup that she clearly did herself in the bumpy cab ride over, it seemed pretty obvious that the girl has no stylist. Well, apparently she also doesn’t seem to have a publicist because nobody is stepping in to stop her from tweeting her career down the toilet. If anybody in the LDR camp is listening: head over to Lana’s bedroom, turn down the Doja Cat record, slap the Marlboro Lite out of her hand, and take her phone away!
One month into lockdown-times, and many of us are losing our goddamn minds. I’ve become obsessed with spying on the couple across the street (the passion is gone, they can both do better). A friend is watching every single one of Tom Cruise’s movies in chronological order (we’ve already lost her to L. Ron Hubbard). Then there’s January Jones, who’s addicted to making nutty Instagram videos.
Those vitamins must be working overtime because Lindsay Lohan has been busier than ever this week. It’s almost as if some frazzled P.A. sat her down, slapped the menthol Kool out of her hand, and said, “Look, don’t fuck this up for the 400th time, okay?” After dropping a fresh turd a killer bop yesterday, Lindsay decided to promote it on Instagram Live by hosting a little impromptu Q&A session. And the results were typical Lindsay: promises, mixed with a dash of delusion, and that sultry smoker’s voice––plus a special (attempted) appearance by Mommie Dearest, Dina Lohan.