Keith Richards Picked Up The Shady Branch From Quincy Jones

Thank the Goddess above for all these aging music people. Old people in general have zero fucks to give and aren’t afraid to let the youngins have it. Old musicians who are pickled with a combination of Ecstasy residue and 70s vodka have a special brand of zero fuckery, and lately it’s been playing out in the press. While Quincy Jones read everyone to filth (including Taylor Swift), he eventually walked it back. Luckily for us, Keith Richards is here to pick up where Quincy left off (including on Taylor Swift)! Continue reading

Keith Richards Wants His Daughters To Snort His Ashes

Keith Richards once said in an interview that he snorted a line of coke cut with his daddy’s ashes. (He later clarified that story by saying that some of his dad’s ashes blew on the table and he only put a little up his nose.) That story still goes down as the most touching tale of father/son bonding I’ve ever read. Keith wants to turn ash snorting into a family tradition. Keith is a functioning zombie, so he’s probably going to outlive the roaches, but he told Rolling Stone that if he dies, he wants his daughters to snort up his dead body ashes. via The Mirror

Rolling Stone legend Keith Richards is happy for his daughters to snort his ashes after he dies – just as he hoovered up his dad’s.

The 71-year-old guitarist, a former heroin and cocaine user, said: “I’ll give them a straw.”

That’s as heartwarming as is it sweet, but is Keef trying to kill his daughters?! Keith has had so much bad shit, booze and who knows what else in his body that his ashes will be radioactive. Keef should ask a pro like Charlie Sheen to test his ashes first to see if his daughters can take it.

Pic: Splash

And Now For The Time Keith Richards Had A Drink With Justin Bieber And Called Him A “Wannabe”

During his vacation on the island of Parrot Cay in Turks and Caicos, UsWeekly says the busted human-sized blond Quints doll known as Justin Bieber ran into a living corpse guzzling booze at a beach bar that turned to Justin and shouted “Who the fuck are you?“. Justin, proving he knows bad words too, replied “I don’t know, who the fuck are you?“, to which the man replied “You’re a man. I respect that” before walking away.

Of course, that drunk man wasn’t just some random come-to-life decomposing Halloween decoration; it was famous come-to-life decomposing Halloween decoration Keith Richards, something Justin discovered when another old man approached him and told him “Keith Richards wants to have a drink with you.” So Justin made his way over to Keith’s table for a drink. That’s when a source (one of the bedbugs who lives in Keith’s eyebrows) claims the following happened:

“Justin tried to bro down with him,” a witness says, adding that a seemingly unimpressed Richards told the star, “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re a wannabe.”

That’s when Justin laughed a hearty HA HA HA HA before belting out “Yooooooo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really really want.” No, he didn’t, but I bet he was thinking it (he’s definitely the Baby Spice of friends).

The source then went on to say that Justin and Keith sat talking for a bit before exchanging numbers so they could keep in touch. Justin reportedly called it the “best night ever”. Probably because he just got higher than he’d ever been in his life off of the words coming out of Keith Richards’ drug-scented mouth hole.

But we never really find out what Keith Richards meant when he called him a wannabe. Maybe he was predicting two weeks into Justin’s future, when he’d be mistaken for a “butcher version of Miley Cyrus” as he accidentally crashes a Log Cabin Republicans meeting on Monday night. Then again, that doesn’t make sense, since we all know Miley Cyrus is technically the butcher version of Justin Bieber.

Pic: Shots

Because Kids Don’t Have Enough Nightmares, Keith Richards Is Writing A Children’s Book

The first time I read Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark, it scared me so bad, that for 2 goddamned years I was afraid a no-good spider would birth her babies in my skin if I fell asleep. So I’m pouring out a Scooby Doo glass of lukewarm tap water for the poor unsuspecting rugrats who will no doubt have years of bone-chilling therapy sessions after reading a children’s book written by Keith Richards, a man who looks like a Ralph Steadman fever dream took a shit on the Boogeyman.

HuffPo says that the second most frightening-looking Rolling Stone (the first being Ronnie Wood) has signed a deal with Little, Brown Books for Young Readers to write “Gus & Me: The Story of My Granddad and My First Guitar”, a story about Richards’s grandfather, Gus Dupree, which will be co-written by Barnaby Harris and Bill Shapiro, and illustrated by Keith’s daughter Theodora Richards.

Praise Cheetos that it’s a story about Lil’ Keith Richards, aka before he turned into a wrinkly heroin goblin, because I think current-day Keith Richards is legit too scary for kids under 10 (or people over 20 who’s drug hallucinations include scary old people). And double-praise the snack gods that he has two helpers who’s job it is to translate the gibberish Keith’s lizard brain burps out. Imagine if Keith Richards was left to his own devices and allowed to write the book himself? We’d get a 3-page pamphlet written on an airplane sick bag called ‘Countin’ Wif Keif’ and it would just be a collection of cigarette butts, lint-covered Viagra, and scabs.

And if Keith Richards wants to keep writing after he’s done his children’s book, I’d love to read a tell-all co-written by his liver.

(Pic: Wenn)

Morrissey Is Probably Going To Retire Soon

Prince William and Duchess Kate’s #1 fan Morrissey is down and out in Mexico after he was rushed to the hospital with internal bleeding and stayed there for five weeks. Morrissey has been struck down with the sicks for a while now and he says he was recently hospitalized for five weeks because of a bleeding ulcer, pneumonia and a throat condition called Barrett’s esophagus. Morrissey plans to rest in Mexico and he’s considering retiring so he can focus on his true passion: being the head boss of a gum-selling ring in Tijuana. Morrissey was kind of born to yell at kids to sell more chicles on the streets of Mexico.

Because Morrissey isn’t doing so well right now, he’s canceled his entire North American tour and is thinking about ending his singing career. During an interview with Mexican radio station Reactor 105.7 (via HuffPo), they asked Morrissey if all these health problems are making him consider retirement and he said, “I have been cautioned to, but it’s difficult for me because it’s very ingrained in me. It almost became absurd the number of things that happened to me, but everything just attacked me at once. The double pneumonia — everything was really a result of the fact I had lost so much blood, so the immune defenses were very, very low and couldn’t cope with anything, so therefore the slightest gust of wind and I would have a terrible cold.”

Somewhere in Buckingham Palace, THE QUEEN is softly caressing her corgis while a smug smile of victory appears on her face, because after weeks upon weeks of making one of her slaves (aka Fergie) sneak into Morrissey’s kitchen to sprinkle arsenic powder on his uncooked quinoa and kale chips, her mission has finally been accomplished. Morrissey’s cunt genes will really explode when he finds out that THE QUEEN bought that arsenic powder with her dole money. Bleehehehehehehhehe!

Morrissey Comes For The “Peckhams”

The talking pimple permanently stuck on The Queen’s ass lips has left Kate Middleton alone on her birfday and has decided to aim his rusty shank at Posh and David Beckham instead. The highly esteemed Loaded Magazine (via DM) walked up to Morrissey’s front porch and asked him to take a minute from yelling at the clouds, the garden hoses, the children, the flies, the air and the sunshine to talk about the current state of Britain. If you’re ever lacking in Vitamin Cunt, ask Morrissey about his country and he will give you a year’s supply. Morrissey went off and this time his rant was directed at the Beckhams. Or the “Peckhams” (after a shady area in London) as Moz calls them.

‘I’d… have the Peckhams dragged to the edge of the village and flogged because they are insufferable to anyone of intelligence, and they actively chase the paparazzi. We don’t seem to realise that David and Victoria Peckham will soon be back and god forbid they will be bestowed with titles Sir and Lady Peckham, this is what’s wrong with this country, we don’t seem to care. Football often seems to me to have no meaning whatsoever other than just to be there. It can’t be elevated any higher because so many footballers are paid £200,000 a week, yet couldn’t identify a harp.”

Morrissey missed his calling. Since he’s happiest when he’s bitching, moaning and working out his cunt muscle until its sore, he should’ve been a gossip blogger or an internet commenter. In his next life, maybe!

Here’s Morrissey on Letterman last night and I’m disappointed that he didn’t end this performance by tearing up a picture of Posh & Becks while shouting, “Fight the REAL enemy!”