There are dramatic things happening in our shiny, over-glorified, pathetic pop culture. Just really fucking stupid stuff. I miss the days when the real juicy gossip would arise… like when Whitney Houston visited Israel with her crackhead has-been boyfriend, Bobby Brown, to go rescue “her people”. Now don’t call me racist, but what the shit is that supposed to mean? Her kind of people are probably swagging around in the Bronx most likely doing something illegal – not roaming around in the promise land. I miss the times when Richard Gere got banned from countries for publicly making out with a Bollywood actress as a joke (Total hoot, I do it all the time). I miss the educated debates on whether Princess Diana’s death was an accident, whether Marilyn Monroe’s death was staged by the government, or the ever-famous “Gay Celebrity” debate. Clay Aiken, you weren’t fooling anybody. Except for every bitter, middleaged housewife and every hopeful, podunk teenaged girl across America. They saw you as ripe dreamboat marriage material. I saw you as straight as a curly fry.

How many times can we play the ‘preggers guessing game’ until it stops being interesting? It stopped being fun/exciting/even remotely surprising/everything else that’s good to me since I’ve seen dumb bitches like Kate Gosselin and Octomom (…seriously?) rape the tabloids with their fertility issues. Yeah, after the fifth kid, it’s an issue. That means you, Mormons.

Literally every magazine per issue accuses at least two good female stars of having the famous ‘baby bump’. I only have three questions regarding this matter:

#1: Who gives a rat’s ass?

#2. Can a girl really not eat some goddamn Cinnabon without getting accused of being pregnant?

#3. Can we intrude on someone’s privacy any more than accusing them right up the womb? Shit just got personal.

#4. I want to be that baby and have it’s life. (that was not a question, but I’m just saying.)

Angelina has had her thirty-fourth child. Not biological, from Micronesia. Yawn. Next. And this isn’t even the worst of it. Is there really that big of a lull in important pop culture news that we have to be constantly following the weight fluctuations of Kirstie Alley? Or God forbid when the President makes a public comment about Jessica Simpson ballooning up to 105 pounds? Seriously, do we need another celebrity to die to make this shit more interesting? Watch out, Cher. These are desperate times.

Let’s talk about Bret Michaels. Poison frontman, ‘Rock of Love’ dumbass, ‘Celebrity Apprentice’ puppet. He is a total wuss, contrary to his rocker appearance, and he probably has more STDs than hit songs – but let’s keep things up to date. He gets a brain hemorrhage, then a warning stroke, then a hole in his heart. He has to take a break from being Donald Trump’s little monkey, and the public freakout is of Oprah proportions. You probably already know what I’m going to say about this, considering that I love Oprah more than I love most of my friends. Let’s set the record straight: Not everybody can get on the Oprah Winfrey Show. You’ve got to be pretty damn interesting for that to happen. In fact, there are Six Points of criteria that may or may not land you a spot on her comfy little 6.3 million dollar couch:

#1. Your husband almost murdered you, and you talk about the heroic fight to save you and your children from being brutally mangled. Basically, something horrific had to have happened to you. They would prefer you had physical wounds or deformities to prove it.

#2. You have a freakish talent that could make millions, and Oprah wants her name behind your discovery.

#3. You’re an A or B list celebrity, and you either have a new movie out or a steamy scandal that has raised hell in the tabloids.

#4. You’re a charity cause.

#5. You’re one of ‘Oprah’s Favorite Things’.

#6. You’re a soccer mom dressed in pastels and khakis shreiking hysterically in the audience.

Other than that, they’ll Skype you in. But Bret Michaels? Just because you’ve had a couple of trashy TV shows and your brain exploded, it doesn’t mean you have to check in with Oprah. You are clearly not that physically harmed if you can still sport that hideous mandana and guyliner. Also, everybody knows you’re wearing a wig. Give it back to Dolly Parton, and stop looking like a pretty version of Kid Rock.

Basically, I’m annoying myself by talking about the ridiculous tabloids these days. I love trashy celebrity gossip just as much as the next person, but it’s getting old. Nowadays you can usually find me consoling myself by drinking Mimosas while watching old Saturday Night Live episodes from 1997 (When SNL was good, am I right?). I don’t buy tabloids anymore, because I usually skim through them in the Grocery Store checkout line and it always says the same old shit. Here’s what’s been going down, in a nutshell:

-Jesse James is a colossal bag of douche. Seriously, who cheats on Sandra Bullock? Oh, wait, you do. With a girl who looks like Xena the Warrior Princess with a comic book for a face.

-Lindsay Lohan is a hot mess. Just a raging alcoholic, anorexic, self-tans-too-much, fauxmosexual. Quit raping every magazine ever made. Nobody cares.

-Miley Cyrus is annoying and skanky. She made the typical racy, hypersexual, “I’m coming out of my shell to shock the public” music video and it translated to everybody the exact way she wanted it to: Wow, you’re dumb. Your mother must be proud.

-After all her plastic surgery, Hiedi Montag looks like a slutty Stepford Wife, and Spencer McDoucherson Pratt needs to take his pastel sweater-vests and his flesh-colored beard and just GTFO.

-The Kardashian sisters are having fame struggles, even though Kim will always be the best of the three.

-Twilight is still a retarded movie that uses good-looking talentless actors that get more fame than is probably necessary. Yes, Taylor Lautner is cute. Robert Pattinson looks like British Rock bathed in a vat of HIV. That pasty boy is one of the worst optical illusions of all time.

-Some dead celebrity is exploited yet again.

-Somebody hates somebody else. CELEB FEUDZ 0mG!!11!

-Justin Bieber is still a 16 year old lesbian.

-Yes, celebrities wear really nice clothes, drive obscenely-expensive cars, appear in films, and sometimes do normal people things like eat food and have babies.

-Oprah and Gayle King are allegedly lesbian lovers (can we think of a less retarded term, please?).

-Kirstie Alley lost weight again! Here are a bunch of embarrassing pictures of when she was fat!

So, there you have it, folks. These are the stories through which we live vicariously! I don’t know why people care so much, but there is no doubting that they do. Sometimes it’s fun to watch the misfortunes of people who generally have better lives than us, but this is only justified through the fact that they just have more money. And everybody knows that money makes the rise grand, but it also makes the fall just as huge. I don’t really identify with any celebrities, which may be the reasoning for my over-the-top criticism, but it’s all in fun and games. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some ‘Rock of Love’ episodes to catch up on.


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  1. Emily says:


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