Someone Needs To Burn Down Bravo
I don't usually go in for that "celebrity gossip blog" bullshit. As far as I'm concerned, celebrities are either human beings who deserve some modicum of privacy, or camera-fellating attention whores who don't need their already inflated egos stroked by the constant attention. I'm making an exception, however, for Bravo's new voyeurgasm Hey Paula.
The satellite box was left on Bravo the other night, so when whatever it was that I was watching ended, I wound up right in the middle of en episode of Hey Paula. (I'd tell you what I was watching previously, but the memory of it was completely pounded out of my brain by the sheer horror of the subsequent spectacle.) I know I'm not the first person to observe this, but that woman is a fucking train wreck. She's whiny, hysterical, abusive and dismissive to her small army of personal staff, wildly more self-absorbed than her resume should permit, and she can't get through a sentence without slurring some relatively simple word.
Anyone who's given even a cursory glance in the direction of American Idol knows that Abdul appears to be drunker than an Irish wake pretty much constantly. On her own show, she defends her behavior with a mantra of complaints about how little sleep she gets. On behalf of America, Ms. Abdul, I'd like to respectfully ask you to shut your fucking cry hole. Take one afternoon out of selling your crappy costume jewelry on QVC and take a nap. You'll either catch up on some sleep, or you'll lay off the hooch for a couple of hours. Either way, you might be able to get through your next public appearance without stumbling about in (a remarkable simulation of) a drunken stupor.
Unless, of course, you're counting on your dubious behavior for publicity that your far more dubious talent and your appallingly infantile personality could never generate. In that case, keep it up. Just keep your fingers crossed that your fans don't get wise.
Suburban Panic!
20 July 2007
25 February 2007
Dear Little Bald Bastard,
Who do you think is the father of Anna Nicole's baby?
- Culture Vulture
Dear Vulture,
I have this fevered nightmare where the horrible, voyeuristic leering of millions of lifeless tabloid readers somehow coagulated in her womb, creating a queen pop culture bee who will one day mature to reign over a twitching hive of buzz-junkies, combing the Internets for the sweet nectar of public humiliation. Except I'm pretty sure that's what's printed on Perez Hilton's business cards.
There is no real value in knowing identity of the true father of that poor, almost inevitably damaged little girl. In many ways, she's been turned from a person into a social experiment. We all know how sad the "nature" contribution to her development has been. Now, we'll get to wait and see if whatever "nurture" she'll receive can keep her from becoming an overexposed chew toy for the rabid public. Jeebus knows that Entertainment Weekly will keep us clued in to how the whole thing develops.
