Vince Neil: Douchebag

Mötley Crüe frontman Vince Neil was always ambitious. Plenty of similar musicians were content just being talentless, but Vince took it upon himself to go the extra mile by being an obnoxious asshole on top of his lack of musical worth. In keeping with tradition, he has again raised (lowered?) the bar, this time by creating a line of tequila called Tres Rios. "But Will," I hear you all thinking, "what's so bad about that?"

Glad you asked.

23 years ago, Vince Neil drove drunk and had an accident that killed his friend and passenger, Nicholas "Razzle" Dingley of the band Hanoi Rocks (don't worry, I've never heard of him either). Said death resulted in thirty days (you read that right) of jail time for Neil, which pretty much makes him totally even. Aside from reinforcing the lesson that befriending Vince Neil is one of the worst choices a human being can make, it casts his decision to sell alcohol in a somewhat* retarded light.

Jesus, the guy is a serious contender for the title of Most Remorseless Murderer Walking the Streets.

*Completely.

Source: TMZ

Everyone Has Herpes

An insider from The Bachelor has revealed to The National Enquirer that the producers had to turn away numerous women from the show because they didn't pass the medical portion of the test:

The producers of The Bachelor have been floored by the amount of pretty women who don't get to woo series hunks - because they have herpes. A new report reveals a substantial number of single stunners were turned away from the most recent show's auditions after testing positive for herpes and other communicable diseases.

You know, you would think the producers at The Bachelor wouldn't be so quick to judge. And, really, I think they're eliminating the best crop of girls from competition. I mean, I've seen the commercials. Folks with herpes are so darned sporty, and affectionate to boot. They're always going on these long bike rides, or taking walks together hand in hand on the beach at sunset, or swinging on a rope swing, or just cuddling together in really sensible looking outfits in front of a fire, or in the grass...really, these people cuddle just about anywhere. Shame on you, Bachelor. You think just any girl is going to play touch football with you on the beach?


Source: Starpulse

Guest Judge

So gang, guess what? Sug's got some super fantastic assignment of glory at work (that's what he called it. Seriously) and he's going to be losing a lot of his regular posting time for at least a month. So we have a pal of ours filling in during his absence. See him up there? Replace him with a white teenage boy from the south, and that's totally him. Will is the only person we know with enough spare time the wit and the ability to fill shoes as big as those left by Sug. So be nice to him while he gets his bearings (you know, I don't really know what that means...to "get your bearings" It sounds like it's related to cars. I'm gonna ask my dad) and once he's gotten comfortable, do feel free to rip into him like you would either one of us.

Fin.

Isaiah Washington Not A Mush-Mouth Negro

I sort of don't care about Isaiah Washington. He's like that girl, you know? That girl that gets dumped and can't get over it? And rather then having some dignity and just walking down the halls with her head held high, she's got to trash talk the hell out of her offending ex-beau. Oh, and she's black. And even though the break up didn't have anything to do with that, she's telling everyone that it did. Ah, young love. Here's some of the stuff she he has had to say about his recent headline grabbing firing:

“On his argument with Patrick Dempsey which resulted in the epic "faggot" debacle: Patrick Dempsey and I had a disagreement that got out of hand and that I regret a great deal. I said a lot of negative things that were never reported, but one word caught everyone’s attention, particularly someone who wasn’t even in the room with us. Someone heard the booming voice of a black man and got really scared and that was the end.”

Yea, you got them there, Isaiah. White folks don't know what to do when they hear a black man's voice. Most of them run screaming straight onto the set of the Ellen show where it's safe.

Regarding the prejudice he feels surrounds his termination from the show: "It didn’t help me that I was a black man who wasn’t a mush-mouth Negro walking around with his head in his hands all the time. I didn’t speak like I’d just left the plantation and that can be a problem for people sometime. I had a person in HR tell me after this thing played out that some people were afraid of me around the studio. I asked her why, because I’m a 6-foot-1, black man with dark skin and who doesn’t go around saying ‘Yessah, massa sir’ and ‘No sir, massa’ to everyone?

Seriously? You...I mean...oh fuck it. You got them, Isaiah. You got them good. They replaced you with these guys. Sorry to be the one to have to tell you.



Source: The Hollywood Gossip

Spice Up Your Life! Oi, but not too much, I've got the ulcer now and reflux like the dickens.

Looks like those darned Spice Girls are at it again. After months of speculation and rumor which drew the interest of, literally, DOZENS of avid fans, the aging promoters of Girl Power have announced their reunion plans:

All five Spice Girls appeared in public together for the first time in six years today (June 28) as they announced an 11-date, eight-country world tour.

The tour will take in the USA, Britain, Germany, Spain, China, Australia, South Africa and Argentina. To register for tickets go to www.thespicegirls.com

Straddling Christmas, the tour will begin in Posh Spice Victoria Beckham’s new home Los Angeles on December 7, before visiting Las Vegas, New York City, London, Cologne, Madrid, Beijing, Hong Kong, Sydney, Cape Town and Buenos Aires.

Sweet Moses, look at them up there. At least you can only see their feet, which would actually be the preferred view since they've all chosen rather fabulous footwear to deter the eye from their otherwise questionable ensembles, save for Scary who REALLY needs to reconsider those red things she's strapped to her hooves. Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of the red shoe on most days. Just not, you know, THOSE red shoes. And never ever should the red shoe see the light of day when the red shoe is accompanying a red ensemble, unless you're going to the prom and it's 1995. And if that's the case you should tell your fella you want a WRISTLET corsage, because who wants a big bouquet of standard roses taking away from their billowy sleeves or getting in the way of their stellar macarena execution? Honestly, boys don't understand anything. Hey, remember when the Spice Girls could stand in FRONT of the flag rather than hiding behind it? Ahh, those were the days...



I can only hang on and hope that this tour comes blessed with a camera crew documenting every stretchmarked and botoxed moment so that I can bask in the glory that will be Bravo's Reuinited and It Feels So Good: The Spice Girls (if they use that name, I want royalties).

Source: Times Online

Harry Potter Gets Some

Oh God it's a slow news day. Rather, it's a slow news day if you're trying to break the Paris/Britney/Lindsay habit (if you're interested, Paris is in Maui, Britney served her mom with a letter from her lawyer, and Lindsay loves the gak). Not much we're left with, really. That means it's Potter time:

Daniel Radcliffe — the star of the Harry Potter series — said Friday while in Tokyo for the premiere of the latest installment that it took a few takes to get over the nerves of getting the young wizard through his first on-screen kiss.

And even then, he didn't really feel the magic.

"When we started it, we were both a bit nervous," Radcliffe said at a news conference. "But after the first few takes, it was sort of like any other scene, which is never really what people want to hear. It doesn't really feel any different, because you are still acting."

You hear that Cho? Huh? No magic, baby. He's a fucking WIZARD, and you didn't even wake the basilisk. And guess who he keeps calling for some more of the good stuff? Yea, you're damn right. My Predator brings all the boys to the yard.


Source: AP

New Obsession: Hey Paula!

Confession time: I'm obsessed with bad reality t.v. I don't get involved with any reality shows that actually gain decent ratings: American Idol, Survivor, Big Brother...I assume they're probably good shows. I wouldn't know, though, because I don't watch them. So You Think You Can Dance, Grease: You're The One That I Want, Pussycat Dolls Presents: Search For the Next Doll. Oh hell YES. And now all of my shameful dreams come true. Hey Paula!

Unbelievable. Downright unbelievable. Have you ever watched an entire hour's worth of programming with your jaw dropped while peering through your fingers and cringing simultaneously? If not, today's your lucky day. Bravo is brilliant enough to have shown two half hour episodes back to back to back to back. Guess what I'm doing? If you guessed "watching each of the two episodes twice and considering watching them via tivo in fifteen minutes when they're over" then you guessed right.

Guys, you HAVE to watch this with me. It's going to be the best thing ever, I promise. Paula has already cried four times, flirted with the entire cosmetics company creating her perfume line, scolded her assistants for not procuring the proper sweatpants and tennis shoes for her flight to Philadelphia, scolded the kindly women at QVC for not seeing her vision for her black hills gold jewelry collection through properly, complained about those darned Bratz people not calling her back for two months to discuss the wardrobe options for the aforementioned Bratz, made seven Simon jokes, flubbed no less than 40 interviews, stumbled through an acceptance speech, lost her limousine, and tripped in front of on-looking fans in a Valentino gown. And that's just off the top of my head. Thursday. Ten o'clock. Bravo. It's like our own little book club, but instead of books it's shameless reality television. Come on, guys, what do you say?

Will you watch Hey Paula with me? PLEASE?
	Sure thing, Mel. I'm secretly watching it anyway.
	Maybe. But only if there's nothing else on.
	Absolutely no way on any level of hell would I watch this.
	You really shouldn't drink as much as you do, Mel. Seriously.
Free polls from Pollhost.com

This is Just So Disturbing

This Benoit case is reading like a WWE script more and more by the second. Fox News is reporting that the wikipedia page for Chris Benoit was updated to include the death of his wife. What's the problem with this? The update was made from a computer in Stamford, CT (home to WWE headquarters) thirteen hours before the bodies were discovered in Benoit's Atlanta home. I don't care to speculate on this until an actual law enforcement agency has something to say about it. Click the link for the full story.

Source: Fox News

Cameron Diaz Has Hateful Accessories

I have a very confusing love/hate relationship with Cameron Diaz. On the one hand, I sort of want to drink with her and complain about ex-boyfriends and call their new girlfriends ugly talentless hacks getting by in Hollywood on their bra size alone. On the other hand, sometimes I want to smack her and tell her to stop talking for, like, EVER until the world has had a chance to forget how ridiculous she tends to sound when un-scripted, and for being ugly/pretty in a way I still can't wrap my head around. So it was a tough call, really, to figure out which side to take on this entire handbag debacle that Cam has currently found herself in. She bought a handbag and, unbeknownst to her, said handbag was offensive to the people of Peru where she strolled about with it for all to see. She heard that it was offensive and apologized for it and, I'm assuming, will never be seen with the handbag again. But, apparently, that's not good enough:

NOT everyone buys Cameron Diaz's apology for traipsing around Peru carrying a bag emblazoned with a red star and the words "Serve the People," Communist icon Mao Zedong's most famous political slogan, printed in Chinese. Thor Halvorssen, president of the Human Rights Foundation, told Page Six, "It is bad enough that Diaz wears a bag quoting history's most prolific butcher, but what's even worse is that she is of Cuban heritage and really should know something about the true history of communism. There is a double standard here that boggles the mind: Had she worn a bag quoting Himmler or Pinochet, she would likely face career annihilation, and rightly so." While the Mao bag is ultrachic on the Upper West Side and college campuses, in Peru, the "Serve the People" slogan evokes memories of the bloodthirsty Shining Path terrorists who left nearly 70,000 dead. "I sincerely apologize to anyone I may have inadvertently offended," Diaz said in a statement. "The bag was a purchase I made as a tourist in China, and I did not realize the potentially hurtful nature of the slogan printed on it."

Yea...I'm backing Cameron today. Maybe it's because I'm still in that ultra-nice mode from earlier (when both Paris and Amy Winehouse were dubbed "pretty" and "adorable" ) but I don't think so, gang. I mean...honestly? Who carries a pocket translator when shopping? Anyone? Show of hands. And to say some double standard is at play here because she of Cuban heritage didn't understand the implications of the statement in a language she doesn't speak or read on her handbag? For fuck's sake, it's not exactly a slow news week, is this the biggest scandal that could be dug up? Cam honey, maybe giving that bag to Goodwill is a good idea, but don't for one second give this whole thing a second thought. Especially not on the morn before the eve that Paris will most certainly let her vagina out to play at Hyde. You stay in tonight, love, and tomorrow this will all be forgotten.


Source: Page Six

Summary Judgment: 1408

Sick days are good for more than a few things, catching up on the past two weeks of So You Think You Can Dance not being the least of those. Sick days are also good for watching a lot of movies you might not otherwise have time for. Such was the case yesterday, when I viewed Because I Said So, Evan Almighty, and 1408. My judgment on the first two, accordingly: Because I Said So- sucked, but Mandy Moore is so cute that I wish I didn't have to hate her on account of the Zach Braff fiasco, and I also really wish they hadn't worked in a way for her to sing, and golly but I wish I had sisters. Evan Almighty- Entertaining with an asterisk. And the asterisk is: If you're in a hotel, and you've got four channels to choose from, and one of them is TBS and it's showing Evan Almighty...in that instance, it's entertaining. But so is, like, the phone book. Or Telemundo. Equally. Also, why did I watch so many movies with Lauren Graham yesterday? Am I subconsciously drawn to her? I have to investigate this.

1408, I feel, deserves some time dedicated to it. As with any review, expect spoilers. One of the things you need to know about me is that I am a disenchanted Stephen King enthusiast, for reasons Sug and I have never been able to agree upon. My point here is I've been considerably wary of Stephen King and unable to thoroughly enjoy him as I have in years past since he wronged me in one fashion or another. Previously I've hated all film versions of King's work because I felt the film never captured the full story. This aversion to King on film coupled with my current dissatisfaction with his craft made me less than enthusiastic to watch this movie. However, as a John Cusack fan/stalker since his Lloyd Dobler days, I had to watch. I have pledged my undying love to Lloyd Dobler, after all.

1408 has us following Mike Enslin, a writer currently working on a piece that finds him spending the night in notorious haunts. His early dialogue stating that there's no such thing as ghosts, no such thing as the after-life, no such thing as God leads us to believe that he's been scorned by the Lord, and I'm already rolling my eyes at an obvious King story-line: scorned writer must face his personal demons, likely while battling an addiction, to properly tell this, his preeminent story, and reconcile with those he's wronged while battling through the dark. Yawn. I liked this better when Johnny Depp was the scorned be-demoned writer, say sorry Mr Cusack.

Samuel L. Jackson plays the part of the forboding hotel manager, warning our troubled hero to stay out of 1408, for the love of God, motherfucker. Except he didn't say motherfucker once, and I was disappointed by that. His part is minimal, but as is the essence of Sam Jackson, his small role is enough to remember him to you throughout the film. It's also enough for you to get right pissed at the Sears fellow who sold you your refrigerator. Had I known there was a model that included Sam Jackson yelling at me from it's depths upon searching for a beverage, I certainly would have ponied up the extra cash to have added that option.

Without giving away too much (and certainly in hopes of avoiding the wrath of the Censormatic 2000) I give you my final judgment of 1408: It successfully scared me and kept me watching the clock in hopes of an ending in sight as I endured the vision that is John Cusack trashing his hotel room in true rock star style. Scared me to the point that I uttered the phrase, "Baby, John Cusack is scaring me" no less then three times while watching. I awarded extra points for the ending, simply because it went exactly where I expected it to and then dug itself right back out of that predictable hell, and while the last five minutes felt slightly Hallmark and simple to me, I wasn't entirely disappointed. I am, however, left questioning how I would have felt about the film had it been cast differently. Were it not for John Cusack and Samuel L Jackson, would I have bothered with it? I think not, and I don't think I'm alone.

Of the film, I'd say I'm pleased in a subdued fashion. It spooked me, I felt it was shot cleverly, and early reviews from internet geeks have likened it to Hitchcock or Kubrick. I'm not sure if I agree with that comparison strongly enough to agree with that statement, but it's out there. Of the actors, I'd say they made the best of what could be made with it, and this movie would have stayed off most any radar without their involvement. However, and I hate to do this, I felt that John Cusack simply channeled Martin Blank for this role. And while I love Martin Blank and all that he embodies, and while the very existence of Martin Blank and his undeniably well delivered dialogue was in fact the baseboard for my friendship with Sug, I didn't entirely feel that Martin Blank deserved to be tortured in room 1408. I felt that Martin Blank could have been wittier and would have been wittier, if it weren't for the new inner demon he was battling. But honestly, after killing the president of Parguay with a fork, how much bigger can your demons GET? Of the story, I say well done with a side of meh. It's not often that a "scary" movie goes the full distance of scaring me instead of settling for simply grossing me out. However, it is quite often that a scary movie saves the hero at the last second (fuck you, I said there were spoilers at the beginning) and for that I'm considerably less enthusastic. Of Stephen King, I say try harder. I'm not quite back yet, sir.

Amy Winehouse Is Not From God

I'm obsessed with Amy Winehouse. I make no secret of the fact that I love her. I love her music. I want her to sing to me while I swing lazily on my porch (I also need a porch and a swing on said porch for this to work) sipping my evening martini and smoking my evening pack of cigarettes (I'm trying to cut back.) That being said, she also scares the bejesus out of me. That's a problem. I'm rather partial to my bejesus and I'd like to keep it if at all possible. This is not superficial, mind you, but a completely rational fear. Observe:

The singer reportedly carved the words 'I love Blake' into her stomach and made repeated foul mouth rants, as she spoke to US rock magazine Spin.

Talking before her recent marriage to husband Blake Fielder-Civil, she ranted about her new found superstardom.

'I'm not in this to be a f***ing role model' she insisted.

Um...

Shit, gang, I don't even know where to go with this. Firstly, I'm not sure anyone has ever accused Winehouse of being a role model. Secondly, isn't cutting supposed to be, you know, secret? I mean, all of the after school specials always called it "secret cutting." I guess things have changed since my days as a wee lass, bitching about General Hospital being off the air for the day so I could watch a very special Hallmark program: She Cut in Silence.

You know what really gets me about this one, though? Amy Winehouse is really cute. Stay with me, here. Amy Winehouse, when she sings, is adorable. She has this very girly stature and her mannerisms are dainty and her face so coy and secretive...she is downright adorable when in her element. And I say this completely inclusive of her tattoos, beehive hairdo, lioness/Elvira-esque eye makeup, and scars. I can do without all those things, mind you, but they don't take away from how downright captivating she is when she's on stage as you would think they would. But sweet mother of lo-carb energy drinks, can I ignore this? I've stated before that I'd be terrified of seeing this thing in person, but my love affair with her album and her performance has brought me to change my mind. I want to hear her sing live every night. From the aforementioned imaginary swing on my veranda (I'll get one.) I'm just not sure that I'll allow sharp objects in the vicinity.


Source: Metro UK

Paris Hilton is Pretty

Sug and I appear to have made a habit of going radio-free when big news days roll around. Such was the case this week, when Paris left the Pokey. Since the minute by minute details have been splashed everywhere else, I'm not even attempting to say much about it. Aside from this, of course:

Paris Hilton is PRETTY. Paris Hilton should look like that every day. In fact, if Paris Hilton ever tries to spray bronze herself and then paint her face for three hours as we've gotten used to seeing her, then we ought to have an intervention. Also, this is the first time I've ever said anything nice about Paris Hilton, and it feels dirty. Luckily, I'm not against finding any mildly related cause to maintain my hatred regardless of reason. So this works out just fine for me. See, I was sick on Monday but I came into work in the morning. I came here in sweats and no makeup, because I was SICK. I actually left the house thinking "hey, I don't look so bad...I can do no makeup when I have a tan, Sweet!" Then I came to work and everyone told me how terrible I looked. "Oh, you look so tired" and "you really do look awful." So, my face is awful. They hate my face. And since Paris Hilton looks great, nay better, without her makeup, I hate her. She's the devil.

Inside the Judge's Chambers...

*

Sug: Dude, you know who plays the bad guy in Die Hard 2?
Mel: Hans Gruber's relative of some sort?
Sug: No, that's in Die Hard 3.
Mel: Tell me.
Sug: I'm saying the actor.
It's fucking Death.
Mel: Die Harder really is a great name for a movie...
Death, like, "Don't overlook my butt" death?
Sug: Yep.
One and the same.
He was also in Shawshank. And The Green Mile.
Mel: Ever notice that EVERYone has Tales from The Crypt in their IMDB profile?
It's like they stick you in Tales From the Crypt when you haven't worked in awhile so you can keep your benefits, or something.
Sug: Do they still make those?
Mel: I have no idea.
I've just noticed it listed in the filmography of the last dozen people I've IMDBd.
It's a verb now.
Sug: I love IMDB.
I've loved it for, like, 8 years.
I pretty much go to it once or twice a day.
Mel: Even people that have no right having a profile have one.
Sug: Everydamnbody.
Oh snap! I didn't kow Carl Winslow was in Die Hard 2 as well.
It's like they just took everybody who survived the first one and stuck them in.
They put the man with no dick from Ghostbusters on the plane with Bruce Willis's wife.
Mel: And I bet at least one of those two people you listed was once on Tales from the Crypt.
That show makes Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon a snap.
Sug: I thought you're not supposed to use TV.
Mel: Everyone has their own rules, it's like beer pong.
Sug: Ha!!!!!
Mel: I'll even allow real world relations...like, if you can get to Kyra Sedgwick, you win. They're married.
Sug: They were BOTH on an episode of Tales from the Crypt.
Mel: How fucking amazing is that?
Sug: It's goddamn uncanny.
Mel: That show is like the baseboard to the role of Man #2 in coffee shop.
Which of course leads to "helpful policeman".
And, ultimately, "man in bar #2".
Which is not to be confused to man #2 in coffee shop.
Coffee shop work is for amateurs.
Sug: Well, kids can get into coffee shops.
Bar work proves you're grown up.
You're super grown-up if the credit is "topless woman #2 in bar".
Mel: And you've made the big-time when you land the lap dancer role.
Only the REALLY talented Tales from the Crypt cast-offs get to slug trail the supporting male lead's chinos.
Sug: Dennis Franz is in Die Hard 2, but he was never in Tales from the Crypt. Neither was Presidential candidate Fred Thompson.
I hate that you used the term "slug trail," and I hate that I know what it means.
Mel: Think twice before getting another lapdance, Sug
They don't make a woolite for that.
Sug: Did I ever tell you BOB'S** story about his glasses?
Mel: No.
Sug: He was drunk at a strip club his freshman year in college.
Stripper came up to him, took his glasses off of his face, folded them up, inserted them, took them out, put them back on his face, and said, "Now you'll be seeing pussy all night."
Mel: inserted...I hope he threw them out.
Seriously.
I would have punched her.
Sug: He didn't.
Mel: He SHOULD have punched her.
That's a whole new level of disgusting.
Sug: In fact, as he told it, he didn't wash them.
Mel: ...
He wore her gonorrhea.
Sug: I sometimes wonder why I'm friends with BOB.
Mel: I do too, Sug.
I'm going to leave now.
I'm going to get onion rings and a milk shake.
Sug: Good effing idea.
Mel: You...you stay away from BOB.

*Irrelevant clip from The Office.
**Name changed to protect the innocent and likely diseased.

Eddie Murphy, When It Comes To Baby Angel Iris Murphy Brown, You ARE The Father

Melanie Brown, aka Scary Spice, has revealed that results of the DNA tests taken by Eddie Murphy on June 11 prove that he is the child's father:

"He's the baby's father, it's official," says a source close to Brown. "The baby is undoubtedly, 110 percent his."

Of Brown, the source said, "There was no doubt in people's minds anyways, least of all hers. It wasn't a surprise to her. She knew all along."

I can't really figure out where to go with this now. I mean, it was pretty obvious that he was the father, right? Is Scary Spice giving up enough of the good stuff for there to have been any debate? I mean, I know Eddie was all "fuck you, that ain't my baby" but the rest of us knew, right? That's what I thought. Let's take this opportunity,then, to watch Eddie Murphy attempt a music career, shall we? That's right, Eddie's girl wants to party ALL the time.



Source: People

A Public Service Announcement:

We here at Don't Judge Me are all for the anonymity (I can't believe I spelled that right on the first try) that the internet allows. Be anyone you want, it's glorious! We're ourselves and we like it that way. You know our names, and if you're attentive, you know where we live and what toppings we like on our pizza. If you don't like folks on the interweb knowing all that good stuff about you, we're cool with that. Have a fun name or go anonymous. Don a wig, sport an eyepatch, call yourself Captain Squishyfoot. We're FINE with it. If you're anonymous and specifically targeting and attacking one of our judges, we're probably going to have a lookie-loo at your IP address. If that IP address leads back to someone we know in the really real world, maybe someone that really needs to grow up and just GET OVER IT already, we're going to ban you. Not because we "can't take the heat" but because stalking people you know in the really real world on the internet and then hiding behind an anonymous comment is lame. Really lame. Super lame to the max! I can't think of any more lame things to say about it. Cue the music.

The more you know!

Perez Hilton Won't Die

Perez Hilton is an annoyance. Not because he's loud or obnoxious or tacky or any of the things that usually annoy me. He's an annoyance because he's in a position to make a GOOD name for bloggers everywhere, yet chooses to do the exact opposite. There's nothing I despise more than hearing "Oh, like Perez Hilton?" when I tell a new acquaintance of my endeavors in the world of gossip blogging. No. NOT like Perez Hilton. I don't discriminate and leave certain celebrities off of my chopping block simply because they bought me a drink once. I don't consider doodling on a stolen picture to be content. And on that note, I don't steal. If a picture comes along that Sug and I can't afford, guess what we do? We don't post it. We point you toward a legal place on the big ol' interweb where you can view it and then return when you are done. Maybe it's an inconvenience for you guys, I don't know. What I do know is that the top ad on Perez's site goes for $9000 a week. A week. For one ad. Perez can afford to purchase pictures from x17. He can afford them AND that supercool new blue hair dye. There's no reason for Perez to have gained a reputation for himself (along with the rest of the gossip blogosphere) as being someone to look down upon. So, it is with great pleasure that I announce that something is finally being done about it:

In what may be the first hit against bloggerazzi star Perez Hilton's empire, his main webhost has dropped Perezhilton.com.

After numerous warnings against Hilton's (aka Mario Lavandeira) use of copyrighted celebrity images, the Oz-based Crucial Paradigm took the site off line; it was dark for a number of hours before it returned to the Internet with a different host.

Not to be outdone, x17 has contacted Perez's new host:

"It's the first victory, and we put a lot of work into trying to get this to happen," said Francois Navarre, co-owner of L.A.-based X17 agency. His company has filed a suit against Hilton, claiming that Hilton has been using X17 images for nearly a year. "It's a precedent that's huge. When we were talking to Crucial Paradigm they were saying they were not responsible, dragging their feet. We had to threaten them and show them they were liable. His new host is Blogads, and we're contacting them already."

Good on you, x17. There are a lot of things I can tolerate. Not being funny is one of them. So you're not funny. That's OKAY. You're not entertaining at all? At least you're trying. You're stealing copyrighted material? HEY NOW. I'm sure it happens to everyone once or twice. You find a picture you want to use. You try to find the source or the credit. You dig and dig and dig and finally you just post it. What's the worst that can happen? If you can't have it, you'll receive an email asking you to remove it and then you WILL REMOVE IT. Right? Well, right for the rest of us. Unfortunately for the rest of us, there's one great big bedazzled annoyance that won't play nice, and he's finally about to get his ass handed to him. I hope you've sold enough adspace to pay for this lawsuit, Perez. If Jesus loves me as much as my singing angel bear says he does, you are going to need it.


Source: Variety

Mandy Moore: Rhymes With Lying Whore. Sort of.

Mandy Moore, pictured above BREAKING MY HEART, has gone and crossed the line. According to Page Six, Moore will be debuting her new album "Wild Hope" tonight which will feature a song about her ex-boyfriend, Zach Braff:

ARTIST and actress Mandy Moore is fighting back against the famous guys who took advantage of her. Music insiders told Page Six the song "Looking Forward to Looking Back" on her "Wild Hope" album is about her "toxic" ex-boyfriend, Zach Braff. "There are references to his Hollywood Hills home in the song," said one tipster. "We all assume it was about Zach, he was such a cheater." Moore debuts her album at a private live performance at Stereo tonight. Reps for Braff did not return calls.

I actually screamed at my monitor, gang. This was a tough call. I love them BOTH! I had to write out a list to decide which side I was going to take. Behold:

Mandy Moore:
-Started off among the ranks of Britney and Christina when being a virgin and singing about candy was cool. -10 points (being a virgin is still cool, kids! Go with God)
-Nicholas Sparks film adaptation -20 points (Had it been the Notebook, it would clearly have been PLUS 20 points)
-Guest spot on Scrubs +10 points
-Simpsons voice work +5 points (higher points would have been awarded had this happened when The Simpsons still amused me)
-Saved +10 points (genius)
-American Dreamz +5 points (based solely on reviews)
-License to Wed +5 points based solely on her co-stars (it's probably going to be good if Jim from The Office is in it, right?)
-Dated DJ AM -5 points
Grand total: 0 points.

Zach Braff:
-Scrubs. Six glorious seasons of Scrubs. +20 points
-Garden State +20 points
-The Garden State soundtrack +15 points
-The Last Kiss -20 points (god, the disappointment)
-That new one with Jason Bateman that I haven't seen yet +5 points (possible 15 more once I see it)
-Dated Mandy Moore. -20 points
-The fact that I find him to be really really ridiculously good looking +20 points
Grand total: 35 points

There you have it, gang. The numbers don't lie and I'm reasonably certain that my methodology is flawless. Mandy Moore is a lying whore. Zach Braff can do no wrong, and the wrong he possibly DID do (ahem- The Last Kiss) is easily erased by the fact that I still very much would like to bed that adorable Jew. Don't let Mandy Moore and her little "song" get you down, Zach. Singer/Actresses are so 2003. Obscure bloggers are the new supermodels. Get one while the gettin's good!

Update: Yes, I do intend to continue on pretending that I have read none of the thousands of articles proclaiming Zach Braff to be an ass-grabbing twat of a man whoring it up in the city and giving Jersey a bad(der) name. I love him.

Another Update: Even though Sug has me under constant attack via email for awarding Zach Braff 5 points for a movie I haven't seen, I plan on letting those points stand, as well. I want to have sex with the man. What do you not get about this? ZACH WINS.

Final Update: Yea, okay, fine...it looks like he's a total cunt of a man with a very small portion out of his entire collection of work that can be considered "good" or "viewable" or even "entertaining". FINE. From here on out he moves into the Harry Potter form of celebrity in my book; that is, I shall view him always as JD from Scrubs or as Largeman, his quirky yet tortured role in Garden State. Got it? Zach Braff=bad. JD/Largeman=good. I'm going home.

Source: NY Post

Robin Williams Plans Another Iraq Tour

Robin Williams, shown above doing a half-hearted impression of Lynndie England, is taking another tour in Iraq.

He says, "I was in rehab the last time it came up and so it was a little difficult to go, but I'll probably try and go back in the fall. The heavily-armed audiences are amazing."

Williams also agrees that the soldiers in Iraq certainly don't have an easy time:

"There's a lot of people there who have volunteered and been there way beyond their tours of duty. That's what p**ses me off. There are guys who are broke and who are having their houses repossessed back home and there family's in debt, and they don't let them go home because they can't. Meanwhile, they're in a place where there's nowhere that's safe. Everywhere can be bombed or detonated."

I don't have much to say about this, except that Robin Williams is a phenomenally hairy man. I don't know if the US Army can use that to their advantage (in fact, I have a lot of doubt as to whether the power of Robin Williams' hair can even be harnessed by mere humans), but dammit, they should try. It wouldn't be any more stupid than, say, arming the Sunni insurgents who've been attacking us just because they've promised to be nice.

Unrelated postscript: I love teleconferences where I don't have to contribute, and where I can put my phone on mute.

Source: Glitterati

Eugenics at it's Best

Victoria Beckham has been asked not to make any more babies. Super! Simon Fuller, who has already gained my love and adoration for creating my secret obsession, So You Think You Can Dance, has now gained god-like status after asking that Posh abstain from getting pregnant as well as several other requests intended to shut up and slim up the aging Spice Girls. Fuller’s list of "Dos and Don'ts" is as follows:

1. Do not talk about money that you will potentially earn from the reunion.
2. Talk about memories of the Spice Girls with affection and pride.
3. Do not get into spats between yourselves over plans and decisions – is it worth it?
4. Respect each other’s personal lives and commitments.
5. Respect each other’s views.
6. Raise any queries with Nicki (Chapman) and myself at the scheduled meeting.
7. Do not confirm or deny any rumors until everything is in place.
8. Do not worry about schedules and time — this will all be arranged with everyone in mind.
9. Do not become pregnant –please! (ANI)

In a normal world, babies born to parents with the genes of Victoria and David Beckham would be heralded by trumpeting angels and blessed with their own in utero reality television series. But in this, the best of all possible worlds, Victoria Beckham looks increasingly like a garden gnome and spends her days fashioning miniature leopard print bustiers accompanied by assless diapers for her babies-to-be. Stopping her from reproducing, for any period of time, is the greatest accomplishment made by any englishman since the genesis of the english muffin (gods how i love my nooks and crannies). And even though I know this "reunion" can't last forever, I can spend the two weeks it does endure dreaming of a world where tiny couture-clad babies snapping orders like "Babes, I told you I wanted me milk warmer than this. You're a right git, you know that?" simply don't exist.

Source: Sawf News

Summary Judgment: Entourage

I have to post a little caveat about my review of Entourage, in the interests of full disclosure. I have two roommates, and one of them is in love with Entourage. Remember that South Park episode where Cartman starts writing Christian rock songs by taking love songs and replacing the word "baby" with "Jesus," prompting his producer to say that it seems like Cartman doesn't just love Jesus, but that he's actually in love with Jesus? Yeah, it's like that. He doesn't just love the show, he's in love with it. When 10:00 on Sunday approaches, he goes nuts. He screams the theme song, shouts at one of the other of us to turn off the lights, and explodes if either of us makes any noise. Once he said that Entourage should be twice as long, there should be twice as many episodes, and they should replace every other show on television with it. Another time he said that Entourage gives him a reason to live. No joke. So, like I said, in the interests of full disclosure, the way my roommate goes overboard about the show makes me like it less, irrespective of the show's own qualities.

That having been said, that roommate was away this past Sunday, so I was able to watch the show without secretly hating everything about it. You know what? I'm not that crazy about it anyway.

The episode that aired on Sunday was an interesting experiment, though. The gang headed down to South America to film their new movie Medellin, about the drug lord Pablo Escobar. The episode was framed as a documentary film about the making of Medellin by an unseen British filmmaker, and it was a welcome departure from the normal style of the show (though not always consistent--it didn't make sense to intersperse the footage with clips of Ari back in L.A.). The production was plagued with the problems of Billy Walsh, the explosive director. Compromises were made, things exploded, etc. There really isn't much to say about it, besides that they made a movie.

But overall, I was left with one big impression: Medellin looks like it blows. The scenes they showed didn't look very good. The prosthetics fitted to Adrian Grenier's Vincent Chase to enable him to play the chubby Pablo Escobar were laughable. Eric and Vince were running around through the whole third season of this show chasing Medellin like it was some kind of holy grail, but from what I saw in this episode, it really looks like something that could have been a made-for-TV movie. On Telemundo. Between Sabado Gigante and a telenovela. Would it have killed them to make the movie at least look like something I'd want to see?

I'll keep watching, because I have nothing else to do on Sunday nights. Now that I can watch TV on my computer, I'll probably do that instead of having to endure my roommate's masturbatory exclamations of the show's greatness. But it doesn't mean I'll like it any better.

John Travolta Is as Crazy as Tom Cruise

John Travolta, shown above reminding us that we should have fucking known that he's crazy, has decided that criminal neglect of his autistic son hasn't made him enough of a pariah. He's going for Tom Cruise levels of outcast here.

"I don't disagree with anything Tom says," Travolta offers on the subject of Cruise's tirade against psychiatric medications. "How would I have presented it? Maybe differently than how he did, but it doesn't matter. I still think that if you analyze most of the school shootings, it is not gun control. It is [psychotropic] drugs at the bottom of it. I don't want to create controversy; I just have an opinion on things, and there is nothing wrong with stating your opinion if you are asked. Everyone wants that right, and because you are famous doesn't mean you have less of a right."

I don't disagree that being famous takes away your right to state your opinion. You know what does take away your right to state your opinion? Having the opinions that John Travolta and Tom Cruise have. That should disqualify you automatically.

Also, I was unaware that the debate on school shootings had only two sides: gun control vs. psychiatry. Thank you, John Travolta, for making yourself as hard to take seriously as our good buddy Tom.

Source: W Magazine

Vacations Are Fun

I spent four days in Connecticut. Jealous? You should be. I spent the rent on Lush and drank lots of things. Twas good. I plan on relieving Sug of his duties today, since he's dying of either the Superflu or SARS and has been on his own here for several days. I just need a bit of time here to catch up on what I missed while I was in the gossip-free zone for the weekend, and possibly some time to do work at my really real job. Stay tuned, kiddos. I've missed you.

Summary Judgment: John from Cincinnati

I know this show was on Sunday, but I've been sick and it's taken me a little while to get my thoughts together on it, so back off.

Sunday marked the second episode of John from Cincinnati, which premiered on HBO right after the contentious finale of The Sopranos. When I first saw the series premiere, I wasn't at all sure what to think. It's dense, mystical, mysterious, and at this point nearly incomprehensible. Lemme give you a rundown.

JFC focuses on the Yost family. Bruce Greenwood plays Mitch Yost, the family's patriarch. He was a surfing legend in his own day, but a knee injury sidelined him 20 years before the events of the show take place. His son, Butchie Yost (played by Brian Holt), was a revolutionary surfer in his own right before he was sidelined by his uncontrollable drug addiction. Mitch blames Butchie's downfall on Linc Perry, a ruthless surfing agent played by Luke Perry. Butchie's son, Shaun Yost is an up-and-coming surfer (played by up-and-coming surfer Greyson Fletcher), but Mitch is determined not to let the cutthroat world of professional surfing do to Shaun what it did to Butchie.

Also, Mitch floats a couple of inches in the air occasionally, and there's a bird that can come back from the dead, apparently.

Yeah.

There's a couple of other, less prominent players. Bill, a retired cop and family friend to the Yosts, is played by Ed O'Neill (better known as Al Bundy). The Yost family matriarch, Mitch's wife Cissy, is played by Rebecca DeMornay. As a grandmother. Weird. Luis Guzman and Willie Garson are caretakers of the sleazy motel where Butchie squats.

Then there's the eponymous John, pictured at the top of this post. He appears out of nowhere near the border, with pockets full of exactly as much money as he needs whenever he happens to need it, and each character is so self-involved that they fail to see just how goddamn weird John really is.

That's about as short an explanation as I can give, and it still doesn't really begin to cover everything that happened in the show's first two episodes. And everything that happens in those first two episodes doesn't really begin to cover, well, much of anything.

But I've decided, upon multiple viewings, that I like it. I like it quite a bit, actually. It's inscrutable and maddening at this point, but that brings to mind one of my all-time favorite shows, cancelled too early by HBO: Carnivale. For those who watched Carnivale, did we know anything, really, by the second episode of the series? Shit, no. But we stuck with it and were richly rewarded, until the bastards yanked it from the air.

JFC gives me the same feeling, of a deep and rich mythos lurking just under the surface. I could be dead wrong, and I'll freely admit it if I am. But I really feel that this isn't the type of show you can write off without making the commitment to watch at least 5 or 6 episodes. Maybe even the whole first season.

Damn. Now I wanna go watch Carnivale again.