Here’s some news: Miley Cirus had to abandon the pole and don clothes actually fit for a 16 year old that isn’t a whore being banged by a 22 year old guy to attend the funeral of one of her tour crew. He passed away when the bus he was on flipped over.
Billy Ray was unable to comment, as he was busy doing coke off the ass of the accountant he paid to add up the royalties he is currently living off. He’s got to be the luckiest man in the world. His only contributions to society are a song Toby Keith would be ashamed of and knocking up Miley’s mom.
I don’t much about the Antichrist, but this douche is getting my vote. At this point he might as well have a love child with Rupert Murdoch and force NBC to revive “Cavemen.”
The most worthwhile thing he’s done was the last time he took a shit, and that will run a distant second to his inevitable heart attack from the fine dining at Waffle House.
New Moon was released last week to only slight better reviews than Obama’s acceptance speech on the KKK blogs. That didn’t stop the masses of slightly retarded 4th graders and 43 year old women who have never been touched by a man.
It seems New Moon broke the box office record for opening day sales, proving that fat, tween, goth girls aren’t only about spiked bracelets and diddling themselves to fan-fiction blogs of Charmed.
I think each one of us can all learn a lesson from this though. Namely, Roman Polanski.
Honestly, had he waited a couple decades, all he would have had to do was dip his cock in Elmer’s Glue, pour on a pound of glitter, fix some plastic fangs to the tip and wait outside of the Roanoke Cineplex 17 on Friday night. Fantasy fulfilled.
But what’s it about, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.
A bipolar chick who plays baseball with sparkly vampires and gets off on the fact that her boyfriend can smell her menstruating from a mile away. Oh yeah, and werewolves.
Yep, sparkly vampires and shirtless guys who turn into werewolves and have homoerotic slap fights. Seriously. If this series were any gayer Adam Lambert would hump it on stage while imitating the sound of a thousand cats cooking in an oven.
Speaking of Seacrest’s new secret desire, Lambert has created a firestorm with his controversial performance on the American Music Awards. It seems 3 minutes of putrid singing about date rape and simulated sex on stage was more than viewers could handle. But even worse was his screeching singing. It was so bad that Paula Abdul sobered up long enough to say something rational. She then collapsed into a coma from all the stress.
Lambert has pretty solidified his place as the gay guy that no gay people want to be associated with. He’s such an embarrassment that the kid in Arkansas said “fuck it,” stood up and recited the pledge as loud as he could.
Even Lady GaGa wasn’t impressed, saying “I wouldn’t even do that homo with my dick.”
Meanwhile, who forgot to clean the floors on stage at this joke of an Awards show? During performances, both J Lo and Lambert fell faster than their respective careers.
That’s saying something, as Jenny From The Block made a career out of being the huge-assed hired help who struck it big. Let’s face it, the only reason Lopez ever had a chance was because an actual talented Spanish chick died. Well, that and she made it over the fence before Lupe.
Man, watching J Lo try to sing is worse than watching Yakoff Smirnov and Yahoo Serious jerk each other off for 10 minutes.
Yakov: In Communist Russia, the Barbie puts the shrimp on you!
Yahoo: Crikey!
No, really, seeing her portray Selena was like watching Bush portray a real President for 8 years. Because, face it, when it comes to biopics, the Presidency, and fulfilling negative stereotypes, blacks do it better.
Just ask Kanye. Don’t know where to find him? Just give an award to Ted down the street for Best Soul Food and wait 5 minutes. You’ll be able to tell he’s close by the stench of Hennessey and sudden rise in auto-tune.
I’m out.
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