It's that time again! Tonight—from 8:00 to 10:00 PM, live on FOX—this season's American Idol Top 3 will each perform three songs for the judges' critiques and our votes. Want in on the action? Your open thread is inside.
Twitter has completed its 300 millionth user registration, meaning its census nearly matches that of the entire United States. It's economic output, not so much.
Arnold Schwarzenegger's mistress moves to the center of the storm. Did you know she and Maria Shriver had simultaneous pregnancies? Patrick Schwarzenegger is calling himself "Patrick Shriver" now. An exhaustive roundup of all things Schwarze-baby.
Those of you who weren't converts already will gaze at this one image, this first image from the movie (sorta) and you will realize. Also today: TNT does something wholly new and exciting and Ben Affleck's outta the Hamptons.
Everyone came to Elaine's. And that's hardly an exaggeration. A Manhattan Upper East Side institution helmed by a chain-smoking owner who wasn't afraid to toss men twice her size just because she didn't like them, Elaine's was the go-to spot for generations of celebrities and media types—and was the place to be on Oscar night in New York City. Elaine Kaufman died in December 2010; earlier this week, it was announced that her beloved restaurant would follow.
Last week, the GOOP-itrix herself, Gwyneth Paltrow, appeared on the Graham Norton Show (which is like The Tonight Show if Jay Leno was Irish, gay, and actually funny). She rapped. Yes, she did the first few lines of the NWA classic "Straight out of Compton."
Never let it be said that the persistence of a few crazy fanatics can't change the world: a proposal to ban male circumcision (for minors, only!) has officially been placed on the ballot in San Francisco. They did it, the crazy, crazy, crazy bastards! I guess when you take a step back and see the forest for the trees from 30,000 feet, the real lesson in all this is, "If you want to be assured of the right to have a doctor cut the foreskin off your baby's penis and you live in San Francisco, push that baby out before November or else go to a different city to have the baby, or else go to some back-alley circumcisionist."
Fellas: you know how it is, right? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. You come home from a long day at work, stretch out on the couch with a cold one—and all of a sudden, it's "Honey, can you help me clean up?"
Sure has been a shit week for Newt Gingrich! The presidential candidate, for whom we're coming dangerously close to feeling sympathy, has been attacked from the left for stupid racist murmurs, from the right for hurting Rep. Paul Ryan's fee-fees, and from some guy with a glitterbomb, just because. Also, his Tiffany's expenses are now public information. Tiffany's, shoppe of the silvered class? Well, his personal jewelry charge account isn't really pertinent, but laugh if it makes you other debt-enslaved psychopaths feel good.
Remember when the Prince of England married that party supply heiress and the whole world was watching? Well after that Wills and Kate disappeared to go honeymooning in the Seychelles, and now there are some glamorous deets about the trip.
If you want Facebook to spend millions of dollars hiring you, it helps to be a talented engineer, as the New York Times today suggests. But it also helps to carouse with Facebook honchos, invite them to your dad's Mediterranean party palace, and get them introduced to your father's venture capital pals, like Sam Lessin did.
The death of World Net Daily editor Joseph Farah's doubts about the legitimacy of President Barack Obama's birth certificate has been greatly exaggerated.
If you were rich and famous and had a movie to promote, you would be in the south of France right now basking in the sun and strolling down the red carpet in a couture creation. But you're not. You're reading this on the internet somewhere. Because we're jealous, let's all make fun of the stars who are there, shall we?
In your fed-up Wednesday media column: Bill Keller must be stopped, a new Encyclopedia of News, the LAT's long-awaited vindication, Katie Couric considered, and Gwyneth declines to launch a magazine, thank god.
