Tuesday, September 09, 2008

God, the Post has some quality work this morning. And by morning I mean after 1pm. Here goes:

Bang One!
Look at that, Ashton Kutcher appears to be about as unemployable as his wife/spouse/cougar Demi Moore. After his culturally languid show “Pop Fiction” was cancelled he’s now coaching football at Harvard-Westlake in LA. I smell a career demise like that of Don Lane. I can’t actually figure out what the hell is wrong with either of them. They’ve both glamorous, pretty damned attractive and have done work people have responded well to. What’s the fucking problem? Just someone give them some god damned work that doesn’t get cancelled or that doesn’t suck. I mean, is that so hard to do? Everyone should stop failing them. [source]

Bang Two!
Pete Wentz apparently played Russian Roulette once while drunk and on Ambien. That’s what he says anyway. What’s the real story here? His crap, suburban, lame ass marriage to the rancid Ashlee Simpson and his relentless selling out over the past 2 years has all but washed the authenticity out of his band and now he’s trying to climb back to a place where the band is worth something again. End of story. He’s not quite the male equivalent to the totally unacceptable fraud that is Avril Lavigne but he’s getting near enough for them to almost be a blur. I’m so sad about this. I mean, he may be a douchebag but he’s so unavoidably hot and I don’t want him to die. I want him to live. [source]

Bang Three!
Michael Jackson’s unwashed underwear will be up for sale on ebay tomorrow and I’m feeling pretty confident of two things now. One, news certainly doesn’t get any more sexually arousing than that and two, pop culture and humanity itself doesn’t get any more reassuring. New Jersey businessman Henry Vacarro obtained them in a bankruptcy case and has a reserve price on them of 1 million dollars. I’m trying to figure out who would buy them apart from that casino in Las Vegas that buys cheese sandwiches that look like the Virgin Mary. One use for them that springs to mind, actually, is that you could boil them in water and use the liquid as a cure-all surgical brew/longevity treatment. They used to do that in China with the Emperor. I mean, not with underpants but with a live massive tortoise in a huge tub of water that was slowly being warmed. I got that from the film, The Last Emperor, which I have seen at least 20 times. It ties in because I was talking about extracting medicinal properties from an object by soaking it in water. That’s what Michael Jackson’s underwear being for sale online for 1 million dollars makes me think of. That and putting a gun in my mouth and shooting myself. Incidentally, doesn't he look slightly like Lauren Bacall in that photo above? [source]

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