What would Donald Trump be like as president? Probably a lot like what he’s like as a father—creepy, controlling and inappropriate as hell. OMG DAD GET OUT OF MY ROOM, the country will probably scream—to no avail. ‘Cause he likes what he sees and he’s not done looking.
On Wednesday August 26 at 6:45 a.m., Alison Parker, a WDBJ news reporter, and Adam Ward, a cameraman, were shot dead during a live broadcast. The shooter, Bryce Williams, was a disgruntled former station employee who allegedly filmed the murders and posted the videos to Twitter and Facebook before attempting to shoot himself.
A few weeks ago on Last Week Tonight, John Oliver exposed televangelists—evangelical preachers whose sole purpose is to get on TV and ask for funds for their ministries—who prey on the sick, poor, and desperate in order to line their own pockets, funding lavish lifestyles that include mansions, airplanes, cars, vacations, and more.
The most recent Ashley Madison data dump promises to reveal plenty of incriminating information on its widely reviled CEO Noel Biderman. But so far, nothing we’ve found in this newest leak has been quite as imminently painful as Biderman’s 100-page, Ashley Madison-themed screenplay: In Bed With Ashley Madison.
On Friday, three days after Gawker ran Dee Barnes’s essay “Here’s What’s Missing From Straight Outta Compton: Me and the Other Women Dr. Dre Beat Up,” the New York Times ran a piece that included an official apology from Dr. Dre addressed to “the woman I’ve hurt.” Barnes’s response to Dre’s apology is below.
“Where’s Kylie?” asked the sundrunk and just drunkdrunk shirtless man wandering around the inside of the open-air club. “I wanna ram her ass!”
On January 27, 1991, at a record-release party for the rap duo Bytches With Problems in Hollywood, producer/rapper/then-N.W.A. member Dr. Dre brutally attacked Dee Barnes, the host of a well-known Fox show about hip-hop called Pump It Up! Dre was reportedly angry about a Pump It Up! segment hosted by Barnes that aired in November 1990. The report focused on N.W.A., and concluded with a clip of Ice Cube, who had recently left the group, insulting his former colleagues. Soon after the attack, Barnes described it in interviews: She said Dre attempted to throw her down a flight of stairs, slammed her head against a wall, kicked her, and stomped on her fingers. Dre later told Rolling Stone, “It ain’t no big thing – I just threw her through a door.” He pleaded no contest to assault charges. Barnes’s civil suit against Dre was settled out of court.
At a recent staff meeting at the Southeast Division station of the Los Angeles Police Department, Ryan Whiteman, a tall, barrel-chested sergeant, ran down the mid-year crime stats for Jordan Downs, a public housing development in the Watts neighborhood of South L.A.. Jordan Downs is home to some of the most destitute families in Los Angeles County. “Five generations of abject poverty,” is how civil rights attorney Connie Rice described the 700-unit complex, which looks like a cross between a tenement and a dilapidated army barracks. “It’s Third World America.”
In an age where elaborately-staged marriage proposals and tearjerking pregnancy reveals are YouTube commonplace, self-proclaimed vloggers must now go to extreme lengths to achieve maximum virality when announcing their most personal family moments online. One man brought this terrifying reality into stark relief Wednesday when he posted a video titled, “HUSBAND SHOCKS WIFE WITH PREGNANCY ANNOUNCEMENT!”, in which he steals his wife’s urine and subsequently “surprises” her with her own positive pregnancy test.
Another day, another TLC scandal. In fact, today, there were two: one involving a dead puppy, and another involving a pedophile producer who worked on at least three shows centered around children. The Learning Channel? More like The Make the Same Mistakes Over and Over And Never Learn Channel.
In January of 1991, producer/rapper and then-N.W.A. member Andre “Dr. Dre” Young attacked hip-hop journalist Denise “Dee” Barnes in a nightclub. If you hadn’t heard about the incident going into F. Gary Gray’s N.W.A. biopic Straight Outta Compton, which hits theaters in two weeks, you’d leave the theater none the wiser. It’s never mentioned.
Bill Cosby’s deposition in a 2005 sexual assault lawsuit against him, recently unsealed over Cosby’s objections, reveals the comedian made arrangements with a New York modeling agency back in the ‘80s to set up dinners in his dressing room with young, struggling models from outside New York. At least one of the women who dined with Cosby later accused him of pressuring her into sex.
Summer’s half over but it’s never too late to get in shape the Bill Clinton way. All you really need is a goofy hat and the dare to bare in some shorty-shorts. It’s the nineties, baby!
Americans love to curse, no fucking question. Fuck this, fuck that, bitchass motherfucking cuntsucker jerk titslut, etc., etc. The question is, which of these bad-boy words are favored where? Who says “fuck” the most? Who says “asshole” the least? Is there a “shit” belt? (As it turns out, yes: From New York City down to the Gulf Coast.)
Lil Wayne’s feud with his former label boss and adoptive father, Bryan “Birdman” Williams, is so serious that, rather than waiting to fight it out in court, Birdman and his new protege Young Thug tried to have Weezy killed in a Blood gang assassination, an indictment filed in a Georgia court implies. Although Birdman and Thugga aren’t facing charges, the case against the alleged shooter—Young Thug’s tour manager Jimmy “PeeWee Roscoe” Winfrey—suggests he was trying to take Lil Wayne out on their behalf.
I bet you thought there was only a slight chance you’d die from taking nonaspirin pain relievers like Advil, Aleve, Ibuprofen, Motrin and the like. Nope! Researchers are now saying they’re actually much more likely to kill you than they originally thought. How likely? The technical answer, I guess, is “it depends.”
A figure caught my eye as I passed through one of the supposedly haunted rooms of the supposedly very haunted Merchant’s House Museum in NoHo last week. I gasped, a reflex that was embarrassing even though I was ostensibly alone. “Ah!,” I thought—“Was that a ghost?”
Apparently, the people of Russia are so dedicated to selfies and/or eager to welcome death that their “high-risk” selfie poses have caused injuries to hundreds and killed dozens more. Naturally, the Russian government was forced to appeal to the nations’s youth in the only way that made sense: dry, informational pamphlets.
