It's Friday...let's get away from this political nonsense for just a minute to recognize the noble work that the Good Plastic Surgery and Awful Plastic Surgery blogs have been doing lately: Jessica and Ashlee Simpson, Tara Reid, and now, Christina Aguilera, who looks like she's had some competent nose work. Unfortunately, a de-skanking still seems beyond the scope of modern cosmetic surgery.
Do you ever find yourself wondering what Matt Drudge thinks of Michael Moore? Take a look at the pictures on the left (excusing our laughable Photoshop skills). The "Original" is the Michael Moore photo (saved directly from drudgereport.com) before it was "Drudged"—stretched out to an even more unflattering shot of the corpulent Fahrenheit 9/11 director. Then click on the image to see a screen capture of Drudge's presentation of the super-sized Michael Moore alongside a vertically-stretched shot from White Chicks that makes the Wayans brothers seem thinner. You make the call: Is he trying to pretty-up the cross-dressers and pork-up the liberal? Next to the "new" Moore, the white chicks almost look doable. Almost.
New Yorkish notices that in The Terminal, Steven Spielberg seems a tad more interested in advertising opportunities than in accuracy. Despite the apparent craving for verisimilitude that led Spielberg to build an enormous replica JFK terminal on a soundstage, with authentic grace notes like a working escalator and real departure signage reflecting actual JFK flight schedules, the director incorrectly shoehorns non-NYC chains Baja Fresh, Yoshinoya, and Panda Express into the food court. Why not just throw an In N Out in there too?
Sure, one way to look at the recent movements of LAT writers (film critic Manohla Dargis, music business beat reporter Jeffrey Leeds, and architecture critic Nicolai Ouroussoff) to the NY Times is that the New Yorkers stormed the LA newsroom and took exactly what they wanted, igniting a "full-on war." Another way is that the LAT, crazed with bloodlust from its Pulitzer victories and looking to finally finish off its East Coast rival, is sending its operatives deep inside the Gray Lady to take the old bitch down from the inside.
—Awful Plastic Surgery laments that Tara Reid went with the "porn star" boobs. Pretty soon, she might be going with the "porn star career."
—Perhaps the most interesting thing is that the Tori Spelling lap dance was a throw-in for buying a necklace at a charity auction. We recommend sand-blasting your privates to return sensation after viewing.
—A writer from the Daily Show sneaks intentional comedy onto the NYT Op-Ed page: Thou-Shalt-See TV for the Passion generation.
—The Onion breaks down the "Hollyblogs" of stars like Lisa "Facts of Life" Whelchel, Melanie Griffith ("Defensive. She takes umbrage at every tabloid story about her."), and Fred Durst ("Dense but heartfelt, and trying hard to philosophize").
When we picked up this week's issue of the LA Weekly and saw the titillating cover story (picture at left) about Valley homes used in porn shoots, we could barely contain our excitement. We felt like a kid fast-forwarding through the cable-repair setup of his first smut tape as we flipped through the paper's pages, scanning for the dirty parts. Alas, the article turned out to be, in the words of the Weekly, "not so much about the porn, but the charged juxtaposition of home and domesticity, sex and fantasy." Whatever. There are enough pictures of naked people to get the job done.
Time for your answers to this week's Ted Casablanca blind item, "One Bagged Blind Vice." A frustrated reader asks, "Who the hell can tell what he's talking about? Is that even English? Yes, it technically is English, and no, much of the time we don't know what Ted is talking about either. We suspect he went to one of those "progressive" schools that never corrects mistakes and medicates children without parental consent. On to your guesses...
The newly-appointed Defamer Correspondent on Synchronous Liberal Events writes in to discuss the traffic implications of the Clinton book signing and the simultaneous release of Fahrenheit 9/11:
A little more news on the hunt for Jack Valenti's successor at the MPAA. An anonymous source tells us that former Clinton Administration Agriculture secretary Dan Glickman (confirming the LAT claim (reg. req'd for link) that he's "at the top of the list") is the Anointed One, and that if he wants the job, it's his. But Glickman's "on the fence about it." No doubt he has some reservations about the boot camp that Valenti will put the replacement through before he can comfortably retire from the post he's held since 1966; we hear the press training is pretty intense. But it's nothing compared to the three-day viewing of Errol Flynn movies as an MPAA "education consultant" applies a cattle prod to the genitals.
Apparently trying to halt the shrieking noise that pierces her skull whenever she's too far from her twin, Ashley Olsen has canceled a trip to Australia to promote their film New York Minute "to be with her family," i.e. rehabbing Mary-Kate. We don't know if MK is in one of those treatment centers that allows guests, but we suggest a full cavity search if the Fat Twin tries to visit; we don't want a well-meaning Ash ruining her sister's recovery by smuggling in any contraband Sno-balls.
Perry Farrell can't win. Lollapalooza is kaput, and so, apparently, is Jane's Addiction. This post, from Jane's guitarist/Carmen Electra husband Dave Navarro's blog, tries to explain what's going on. It all sounds like the usual combination of volatility and creative differences. We were hoping for drugs, gunplay, and three-ways. Whatever happened to our rock n roll?
Just as the LAT reports that a search for MPAA head/pirate hunter Jack Valenti's successor is in full swing, Valenti manages to seize control of Sen. Orrin Hatch's body at a Capitol Hill hearing on peer-to-peer file-sharing. Said the Valenti-possessed Senator, "In the film 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang,' the leering Childcatcher lured children into danger with false promises of free lollipops. Tragically, some corporations now seem to think that they can legally profit by inducing children to steal, that they can legally lure children and others with false promises of free music." Nodding subtly in Valenti's direction, his eyes dancing pinwheels, he continued, "Children think they're getting the latest Spice Girls song for free, but they're actually downloading rape-crazed pedophiles in eyepatches directly into their home. And after they tear Mom and Dad limb from limb and bugger the family dog, they're coming for Junior. I will spare you the details of what they do with the lollipops."
Good Plastic Surgery has some comparison photos of a before-and-after Jessica Simpson. Before: bigger nose, smaller eyes. After: MTV show, ABC variety show, unspeakably bad ABC pilot. The site also has pics of sister Ashlee's supposed face work, and her nose seems to run in the family. Well, it did before the rhinoplasty.
Just when we thought we might finally be free of The Curious Case of Colin Farrell's Oversized Tool On The Cutting Room Floor, we're bombarded with new info. A spy with knowledge of such matters tells us that Farrell had "final cock image approval" for A Home At The End Of The World , and after seeing a cut of his moneymaker in a screening, flipped his little army helmet and demanded that alternate footage be used. We don't know whether or not this involved reshoots with a zoom lens, or why he allegedly threw the fit, but one thing is certain: In the last 24 hours, we've written more euphemisms for "penis" than a copywriter for gay porn video boxes. Also, stories about your favorite bad boy actor's equipment being cut for, um, length, may be greatly exaggerated.
—Britney's new puppy describes the scene as mom mows down a paparazzi with her SUV: I wanna play. What was that? No, really, I heard something. I can’t see a goddamn thing. I’ll whine a little. Mmm-mmm. She can’t even hear me. She probably thinks it’s her cell. Should I bark? Maybe if I growl she’ll put me down. Oops, bad choice of words
—Why we all got to enjoy Seven of Nine's Republican campaign-sinking sex club stories.
—Off to a great start: Those wacky, original Maxim filmmakers gave their new production company the same name as Demi Moore's production company. Maybe next they'll get knocked up by Ashton Kutcher.
—Carmen Electra may be hot, but she certainly needs a crash course in gas station ettiquette. We're not fucking around, Carmen...gas is about fifteen dollars a gallon now. Don't make us any angrier at the pump.
OK, by show of hands...who's starting to feel a little inadequate from all of this talk about Colin Farrell's supposedly enormous trouser apparatus? Let's shift gears...We couldn't help but notice this quote in the recent Entertainment Weekly "Must List' issue, by a frequent Defamer subject. "I would never get implants, ever...It scares me that older men would think about that, but hey, if they're going to write about anything, write about my boobs rather than making other stuff up."
An operative files this brief report from last night's Spider-Man 2 premiere at the Mann Village and Bruin theaters in Westwood. Disturbing: Was Val Kilmer trying to get into Aunt May's pants? Where is Uncle Ben's ghost when you need him?
Mary-KateAndAshley.com, the online home for all things Olsen Twins has plenty of "shoe news" (no doy, flip-flops "sizzle through all of the seasons"), but no official word on her trip to rehab for an "eating disorder." However, the site has an impressive archive of health tips, including this entry for "Safe Salad":
