And here's another example for why country-rap crossover songs are the worst. (I will eat every single one of my words if Dolly Parton and Khia put out a song together). In Brad Paisley's new song "Accidental Racist," he starts out telling a story about how a dude at Starbucks threw a side-eye at the Confederate flag t-shirt he was wearing. Brad wants that dude to know that he wasn't declaring his love for slavery by wearing that shit, he was just declaring his love for Skynyrd. Then Brad goes on to sing about how it's hard being white before LL Cool J comes in and raps about how it's hard being black and they both go on and on about how we need to stop judging each other. It's like a bizarro remake of Ebony and Ivory. The chorus goes like this:
I'm just a white man comin' to you from the south land tryin' to understand what it's like not to be.
I'm proud of where I'm from but not everything we've done. It ain't like you and me can rewrite history.
Our generation didn't start this nation. We're still pickin' up the pieces, walkin' on eggshells, fightin' over yesterday.
Caught between southern pride and southern blame.
And LL Cool J raps out the lines “If you don’t judge my do-rag, I won’t judge your red flag” and "If you don't judge my gold chains, I'll forget the iron chains." Fuckery everywhere!
After some people declared this song the worst thing they've ever heard, Brad wanted to clear some shit up and he explained the song to Entertainment Weekly. Brad said that it's not a stunt and he's not trying to get attention. Brad just wanted to start a conversation about racism and symbols and Starbucks and shit. Here's a small piece of what Brad said:
I just think art has a responsibility to lead the way, and I don’t know the answers, but I feel like asking the question is the first step, and we’re asking the question in a big way. How do I show my Southern pride? What is offensive to you? And he kind of replies, and his summation is really that whole let’s bygones be bygones and ‘If you don’t judge my do rag, I won’t judge your red flag.’ We don’t solve anything, but it’s two guys that believe in who they are and where they’re from very honestly having a conversation and trying to reconcile.
“I’m with my audience 100 percent in the Southern pride thing, in the same way that a Yankees fan is very proud of where he’s from — that’s LL. We’ve got pictures of him in a New York Yankees cap doing his vocal, which is so appropriate.
“But, you know, it’s such a complicated issue — I’m reading up on it now, [since] I felt I needed to be well-armed for any discussion – and here he is in a Yankees cap, and you think to yourself, ‘Well here is the antithesis of what was the problem.’ But it’s not. New York City was all for slavery. They actually voted 60 percent against — or maybe 70 against — Abraham Lincoln because they didn’t like the idea of slavery going away because there goes cotton and there goes tobacco trade, you know what I mean? It’s very hypocritical to feel like it’s just the South’s fault.
“But, at the same time, symbols mean things, and I know one thing: It just doesn’t do any good to blatantly do things and be like, ‘Just get over it.’ That’s not what we’re saying. This is a very sensitive subject, and we’re trying to have the discussion in a way that it can help.”
If Brad and LL Cool J really wanted to end racism through song, they should've just done a cover of this:
For some hos, turning in their V-card was an awkward and uncomfortable experience and if they could take a Magic Eraser to the part of their brain that holds that memory, they would. But Shirley Maclaine's daughter Sachi Parker might have all of us beat. When you get your cherry plucked, the last thing in the world you want to do is talk about it with your mom and two grown ass strangers. You just want to wash your fuck parts out in the sink with hand soap and then eat a Yodel while writing about your first time in your Lisa Frank journal.
Shirley and Sachi's relationship has always been on and off and they're not exactly the closest. Sachi says that Shirley shipped her off to live with her dad in Japan when she was just 2 and barely made an appearance in her life. Then when Sachi was 17, Shirley suddenly wanted to get closer and by "closer" I mean "let me sit in the next room while your cherry gets popped" kind of close. In Sachi's new memoirs, Lucky Me: My Life With – And Without – My Mom, she writes that when she was 17, Shirley invited her and her then boyfriend Brad to California. When Sachi and Brad got to Shirley's house, Shirley introduced them to her friends, Phyllis and Eberhard Kronhausen, who were sex therapists. You know where this is going and no, I don't like it either. I'll let the Daily Mail take the crazy hippie fuckery from here:
Sachi says Phyllis told her mother: ‘It would be a fabulous opportunity for Sachi, to have her first introduction to sex with all of us here as a support group. We could talk about it afterwards and validate her feelings.’
As Sachi flushed with embarrassment, she says her mother declared: ‘I think it’s a wonderful idea. We’re all here to help you, sweetheart.’
Now 56, Sachi says that helpless to oppose the three ‘powerful’ adults, she ‘felt like Mia Farrow surrounded by the satanists in Rosemary’s Baby’ and they watched as she and Brad left for the bedroom.
She writes: ‘Once our mission was accomplished, we had to face the next hurdle: reporting back. We hid out in the bedroom until we heard a light knock on the door, and Mom’s voice, “Is everything OK in there?’’ ’
Shirley's agent said that he hasn't read the book, but that whole scene doesn't sound like her.
I bet that halfway through, Shirley knocked on the door and was like, "Are you kids okay? Can I get you anything? Some milk and cookies, some lube or maybe a nice warm cum rag? I hope you're not doing your homework in there. You better be fucking!" If I was Sachi, I would've just faked orgasm noises and come out and said that I came 10 times, he barebacked me in the butt, Dirty Sanchez'd me a few times, hog tied me, whipped me and broke my ass bone in 6 places. I love it all. The end.
I swear, Hollywood hippie bitches are so weird! Parents aren't supposed to tell their kids to fuck while they wait in the next room. They're supposed to pretend that they don't know that their kid is boning their piece in the bedroom closet while biting on a pillow to muffle the sounds. That's what normal parents do! These bitches...
That title actually sounds a lot sexier than this story is, although pretty much everything Samuel L. Jackson does is damn sexy. In this particular case, Emmy winner Jake Hamilton is interviewing Quentin Tarantino and several of the Django Unchained cast members on his show Jake's Takes and everyone plays nice....until they get to SLJ and he breaks it off in dude's ass. Swooooooooon. It seems like every bitch from Sarah Silverman to Katt Williams can't shut up about how they feel about the use of the "N" word in Django, so Jake tried to ask Samuel what his take was.
The whole interview is above, but skip to the 13:56 mark to watch Jake wishing a hole the size of Kim K's ass would open up and whisk him away to a safer place, like oblivion.
Jake: Y'know There's been a lot of controversy surrounding the usage of the "N" word in this movie...
SLJ: No? Nobody? None? The word would be?
Jake: Oh, I don't want to say it.
Samuel yells at him to say it for almost a full minute, refusing to answer the question until he does, while Jake squirms in his chair like a first grader that has to pee pee. I don't blame his ass, but it's kind of funny.
Jake: I don't like...I don't wanna say it. Will you say it?
SLJ: No! Fuck no. That's not the same thing.
SLJ: You want to move on to another question?
Jake: Okay, okay awesome.
As Samuel turns to the camera and laughs his ass off (and never does answer the question), you can't help but wonder what would have happened if Jake DID say it. I'm thinking Sam L would have pulled a Jules from Pulp Fiction on his ass and he knew it. I DOUBLE DARE YOU MOTHAFUCKER SAY N***ER ONE MORE GOTDAMN TIME.
That's a trick question.
The King of Thailand's 85th birthday was celebrated during the Muay Thai Championship Fights in L.A. over the weekend, and the King of Thailand couldn't make it because he didn't have enough miles, so they invited the closest thing they could get to Thai royalty: Courtney Stodden! Doug Hutchison, who looks like if a zombie Efren Ramirez played Aileen Wuornos in Monster, escorted his child bride to the fights and he stood back while his wife showed the people how a true lady of elegance does it.
A true lady wears fake eyelashes made from a dust brush's dirty bristles. A true lady wears every padded bra in her drawer so that her tits look like two Cornish game hens wearing full diapers. A true lady makes a luxurious stole from Ikea sheepskin rugs. A true lady wears exquisite lucite heels ALWAYS and a gorgeous $12 gown from Joyce Leslie. Those bra straps just top the whole look off.
And I'm pretty sure Doug is trying hard to get an audition for The Walking Dead.
If you've got nothing better to do, like steal a TV from a sports bar bathroom with your brother/fake hump partner or conduct a poll in your office on if you should dress as a slutty corn on the cob or a slutty honey badger for Whore-O-Ween, then spend the next 15+ minutes of your life watching awkward Kristen Stewart being awkward while awkwardly asking awkward questions from her fans about some stupid perfume.
KStew's crazy fans submitted over 5,000 questions about being the face of Balenciaga’s Florabotanica fragrance and Virginie Mouzat asked like 3 of those questions during a live Q&A yesterday. The Q&A was supposed to last 30 minutes, but it was cut short, because the camera dude had a nervous breakdown from watching KStew's restless leg syndrome, restless eye blinking syndrome and restless insufferable twat syndrome in action. If you hit the mute button, this is like watching a bizarre, uncomfortable and strangely elegant intervention between an exquisitely dressed drug counselor and a paint huffer.
If you can't sit through all five minutes of this highly exciting interview, then read Fashionista's highlights:
On being a spokesperson: “I don’t have to lie about liking [the fragrance].”
On other fragrances (she made this point many times–that Florabotanica doesn’t smell “fake and chemically”): They can make you “smell like an old lady and…like fake. I don’t get that from this.”
Her advice for a girl who desperately wants Florabotanica and who’s trying to convince her parents to get it for her: “Be good?”
On how it makes her feel: “Young and mature at the same time. When I wear it I feel older.”
On what movie it reminds her of (she hated this question. A lot.): “Nicolas says Alice in Wonderland.” Virginie: “But what do you think?” [pause] Kristen: “Sorry, but I’m intimidated by this question.”
On learning French: “It’s been a goal of mine, but I’ve been a little, uh, preoccupied.”
The hell are those questions? Why didn't Virginie ask KStew if Florabotanica can be used to cover the scent of the drool droppings your side piece left on your cooter box? Because that's a selling point.
If you missed today's episode of Dr. Phil with a high as three shades of hell White Oprah, then just take a smug bullfrog and a mangy alley dog hopped up on uppers, downers and middlers, and watch as the latter stares and giggles at the former until it passes out in a puddle of its own drool. Or just watch the supercut Vulture put together. Pharmacists should put the url of this video on the bottles of painkillers warning bitches on what can happen when you mix your pills with equal parts pills and delusion.
Dr. Phil started off the interview by saying that Lindsay Lohan's pimp and enabler called up his producers to say that she wanted to show the world the real her. White Oprah showed us the real her alright and the real her is a slurring, pilled-up disaster who talks and lies just like her daughter. White Oprah didn't want to talk about anything and I'm guessing she was only there because Dr. Phil put her up in a hotel and she wanted to swallow the mini bar whole.
Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan used to beat her, but she didn't want to talk about that. Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan broke into her house, but she didn't want to talk about that. Dr. Phil asked her about how Michael Lohan claims she stole $4,000 out of LiLo's purse, but she didn't want to talk about that. White Oprah just awkwardly giggled, pretend cried, commented on Dr. Phil's shoes and kept asking if the cameras were rolling. Yes, the cameras are rolling, bitch, and so are you. You're rolling on ecstasy, booze and whatever pills you stole from Nana Lohan's medicine cabinet.
Meanwhile, Dr. Phil sat there like a condescending fart bubble and acted like he was concerned and cared, but he was totally squealing out rainbows on the inside, because he knew this mess would be ratings gold.
White Oprah asking Dr Phil "Can we pound to that?" and him turning her down sums up this whole smug vs. crazy train wreck. When you ask Dr. Phil if he wants to pound (any kind of pounding) and he turns you down, that confirms that there is a rock bottom under rock bottom and you've reached it.
The storm clouds are starting to dissipate in the Robert Pattinson / Kristen Stewart YOU CHEATING HOR hurricane, and as the anger recedes like low tide on Rob's once shiny sparkly beach of a heart, some of his friends are saying that now only broken shells, sadness, loss and wishy-washiness remain.
Radar Online has heard from several sources (aka chatty bastards) that RPattz is not sure whether he's ready to let go or reconcile. He's struggling to make a decision, but wants to keep his personal life to himself and out of the public eye say the tattle mcblabberfriends.
An equally sensitive Kristen respected Robert's privacy by issuing a public apology to him and showing her Droopy Dog face all over town. The other couple ensnared in the scandal, Rupert Sanders and his wife Liberty Ross could not be reached for comment, since Rupert is completely booked up with shoe licking, jewelry buying, and couch sleeping for the foreseeable future.
RPattz will make his first appearance in public since the split on the Daily Show this Monday and the sources say he's more than a little nervous about what question bombs Jon Stewart will lob at him during the interview. I'll bet Rob's not the only nervous one, isn't that right KRISTEN? Hopefully Jon went to a different privacy hororing school than the rest of these big mouths and will show some bitches what class is by letting Rob stick to promoting his new movie Cosmopolis.
I feel for the guy. I can't imagine watching with the rest of the world as my future dreams were publicly lapped away by a married man in the front seat of a car. But Rob is a young, handsome, rich as hell star. In no time, he'll be trying to say "Krist-who" with a mouthful of someone new. SO DO YOU HEAR ME ROBERT? It's kick a trick to the curb time. And ladies (wink, wink), line forms to the left.
TLC's Strange Sex is back in two weeks and you know what that means. It's that time of year when we all get mild concussions from banging our heads on the table while trying to break the images in our brains of people doing sucio sex shit. On the first episode of the season, we meet Jeff, a man who is kind of like a vampire, but instead of getting thirsty for virgin blood, he gets thirsty for tit milk. Jeff's fetish for suckling on the nipple knob was born when he watched his wife breastfeed their daughter. Jeff says that chichi leche must be nature's Viagra, because it has cured his erectile dysfunction. As I said in the headline, WWDBS (What would Dr. Blossom say)?
Maybe it's because I'm desenstitized (typo and it stays), but Jeff swallowing his wife's breast milk during sex isn't that bizarre to me. I've heard about it before and it's one way to get some Vitamin D. But the thing that really made me turn inside/out was Jeff looking at his wife breastfeeding their baby the same way I look at someone drinking a delicious beer. Jeff licked his lips with his eyes. WHY?! Parents need to realize that one day their children will grow up and learn how to Google.
I bet that Jeff's biggest disappointment in life is that he can't build a time machine so he can travel back 30 years from now and marry Michelle Duggar before Jim Bob.
via Daily Mail
The scent of burnt turtle anus and melted plastic eyeglass frames was in the air yesterday when Mia Farrow re-tweeted the third-degree burn Ronan Farrow dropped on his dad Woody Allen. This shit is more awkward than the Father's Day lap dance Courtney Stodden gave to Doug Hutchison.
There you were thinking that your relationship with your biological father is so damn dysfunctional that instead of sending him a card yesterday, you sent him an invoice for all the booze you sucked down throughout the year to deal with all your daddy issues. Ronan has you beat! Ronan Farrow is like the smartest person alive, graduated from college at 15, works with UNICEF, inherited more Mia genes than Woody genes and he can drop kick some shade for days. I would say I'm in love, but I don't know if I can fall in love with a dude whose full name is Satchel Ronan O'Sullivan Farrow.
And here's a few pictures of Satchel's brother-in-law hanging out with Soon-Yi and their two daughters in Beverly Hills the other day. I don't if it's the creepy look on Woody's face or the "Bitch, you're going to die" shank eye the Heather Matarazzo-looking one is throwing at us, but these pictures make me want to scream for an adult.
Kim Novak took out a full page ad in Variety a couple of months ago, because she wanted to shine a light on the INJUSTICE the makers of The Artist brought down on Vertigo. Kim basically citizen's arrested The Artist for using a piece of Vertigo's score even though the producers of The Artist gave credit and paid for it. Kim said that hearing Vertigo's score while watching The Artist felt like rape. At the time, I didn't make anything out of it, because a miniature Whoopi Goldberg was living in my head and told me that Kim didn't mean rape rape, but oh she did. Kim clarified her comments to the Associated Press and said that she was raped as a child so she knows what it feels like. And hearing Vertigo's score in The Artist felt just like rape. Err... ummmm... errr... lawd... yeah:
"It was very painful. When I said it was like a rape, that was how it felt to me. I had experienced in my youth being raped, and so I identified with a real act that had been done to me. I didn't use that word lightly. I had been raped as a child. It was a rape I never told about, so when I experienced this one, I felt the need to express it. I never reported my real rape, so I felt the need to report this one. I felt that someone needed to speak up because the music has been taken advantage of too much. I hope that in the future, maybe somehow it will do some good."
Why do I feel like my emotions just fell out of a church tower after a nun spooked my ass? Now every time I watch The Artist (because I watch it all the time, obviously), I'm going to think about how it raped Vertigo.
And I give this entire story 5 out of 5 face palming Uggies.