Woody Harrelson assaulted a TMZ photographer in the airport on Wednesday night.
I'm sure he didn't mean it. He thought the guy was a zombie.
I wish I were clever enough to make up something that hilarious, but it is true. I read it on CNN.
Here is a quote from Woody.
"With my daughter at the airport I was startled by a paparazzo, who I quite understandably mistook for a zombie."
I was a kid in the 80s and for whatever reason, professional wrestling was really big at my elementary school. Not wanting to be totally left out of every conversation at the lunch table, I attempted to watch those Main Event shows that features the superstars of the day, Hulk Hogan and...uh...the other one...and those guys. Roddy Piper. And that guy Cyndi Lauper was friends with.
Anyway, I obviously couldn't get that into it. The whole high theatrics of the, erm, sport just seemed unnecessary since actual professional sports are overly dramatic as it is. And Hulk Hogan just creeped me out. The hair and the mustache and the tan and the aggro...I really didn't get the appeal. So I'm sure you can imagine how hard my eyes rolled back in my head when he became a reality TV star and his freakishly blonde offspring started making records and doing unspeakable things to jeans.
Y'all? I was done. DONE. Done talking about the geedee Douchelor and Wall-E or Moll-E or whoever the one he ditched for the other one and then ditched that one for the other one, and oh GOD MY HEAD. So yes, I was done. But much like the mafia (which doesn't exist, don't break my knees!) they keep! Pulling! Me! Back! IN!!!!
So hold on to your butts, kids, cause there are NEW DOUCHELOR DEVELOPMENTS, and you know I have to bring them to you. And if I have to write it, you're bloody well going to read it.
Helmets on? Beverages ready? On we go.
So the internet watched a show called The Bachelor last night, and then everyone's head exploded and it was very messy indeed. So as we squeegee off the internet, let's review the season finale of The Bachelor, and please, people. Keep your brains INSIDE your heads this time.
A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away, we met Jason, the lovable scamp who will be looking for love. We're supposed to love Jason because he got dumped by DeAnna last season, but we'll learn our lesson regarding that, OH YES WE WILL. Jason had plot device - uh, a SON - named Ty, who was an adorable moppet who had no idea a bunch of skanks would be descending on his life, but probably didn't care cause he's already discovered boobies. There were roses, and makeouts, and then the last two uh...ladies were left.
AND THEN THE MAGIC HAPPENED, PEOPLE.
About two years ago, my family and I sat down to eat a particularly yummy dinner that I had made: shrimp with a green curry sauce that contained ground cashews. It smelled heavenly and tasted amazing. My son started refusing to eat, which is pretty much a nightly occurrence as he's a very picky eater, but he started coughing and complaining of a weird feeling in his throat. I looked and his face was getting blotchy and his lips were swelling. The rash spread and he had trouble walking. I couldn't be sure, but I suspected that he was having an allergic reaction to either the shrimp or the cashews.
A trip to the ER later, doctors confirmed that my kid had indeed suffered an allergic reaction. Thankfully it was a mild one, but we were sent home with EpiPens and a stern warning to keep him far away from nuts, peanuts, and fish until we could get to an allergist to determine his exact allergy, since many times first reactions are mild, but second reactions are near fatal.
But according to Joel Stein of the LA Times, I made that whole thing up so I could feel special.
Above: Nazi buddies wave hello to each other as they arrive at the party to celebrate Hitler turning the big 5-0. Gunther annoyed everyone by getting drunk and shouting, "Over the 'heil' and ready to roll!" joke over and over.
So, hey, are you hating humanity yet today? No? Oh, well, let me take care of that for you. Pennsylvania, my home state, might have fought on the Union side during the Civil War, but man do we have some racists. In fact, the Southern Poverty Law Center reports that PA has 33 active hate groups, which is more than both Alabama and Mississippi. And, of course, many of the people in these hate groups are all about breeding in preparation for the Racial Holy War. Yee ha!
But the kids that are currently being groomed to be the bigots of the future still have to have birthday parties and they still need birthday cakes.
I know, you'd think they'd already know, being one of the most widely read papers in the nation, but it's clear from a recent piece by food critic Frank Bruni that the features writers clearly didn't get the memo.
The headline?
"Great Meals For Two, Under $100 (It's Possible)"
Oh really, Mr. Bruni? What's your next piece? "Hey, All of You on That Unemployment Line: Try the Cake!"
An excerpt from the article, and my astonished and sputtering reaction are below the cut.
Disclaimer: I apologize ahead of time for the hateful language that I use in this post.
You know Fred Phelps, right? He's a former lawyer, politician, the pastor of the Westboro Baptist Church, founder of the charmingly named godhatesfags.com and, most notably, a despicable human being.
I've always been a fan of Denis Leary. I think he's freaking hysterical, in his own manic, rage-infused way, and I own all his specials. Hell, we even share an alma mater (shoutout to my Emerson College peeps!) But man, I am stunned and sickened by the insipid, lazy and cruel words he has to say about children living with autism.
Would you hit this man? I mean, he's so threatening, what with the cancer and the removed jawbone and soldiering on with his beloved movie reviews in print because he can't SPEAK anymore. Would you bash him with a binder because he was trying to get your attention by tapping your shoulder?
Well, Tuesday at the Toronto Film Festival, that's just what happened. THUMBS DOWN.
Yes, he’s the guy who loved Jennifer Love Hewitt so much (or at least her massive rack) that he declared her body a “Wonderland,” but he is also the guy that wrote the song “I’m gonna find another you.”
First off, let me just say I have never “gotten” John Mayer’s appeal. I do not find him remotely attractive. In fact, to me, he’s three facial scars away from being Johnny Depp in Edward Scissorhands.
He may play up the sensitive, scruffy singer image, but this guy has gone from crooner to creepy faster than you can text “That’s it—the end.”
So let’s revisit John Mayer’s Herculean douche-bagginess in the hopes that we may save other poor, over-exposed actresses/singers/waitresses the pain and public humiliation that so many have already suffered. If we can save just one blonde it’ll all be worth it.
You know what Suge? I have never liked you. You have always been a thug and a criminal, even though your label put out some of the best rap of the 90s. But this news makes me so livid I can't even call you by your nickname anymore, because that would mean I had even an ounce of respect for you. You are now either Marion "Douchebag" Knight, or Sir Douchebag. Take your pick.
Okay, listen up, let me school you dudes out there about something. It's one thing, during a bout of idle beer-drinking-with-buddies-type time-wasting, to come up with a few dorky "I'm such a total fuckin' DUDE"-based turns of phrase, and chuckle into your luke-warm Heineken about them. To, say, call a testosterone-fueled metal tune a "Manthem," or a refer to a display of genuine feeling exchanged between men "He-motion," while in the dank privacy of your mother's basement. No, it's cool, it's cool -- I understand the nights are cold and lonely and you need something -- anything -- to cling to, even if that something is totally lame and sucks. I'll give you all that. FINE.
The week is young, but I think it's reasonably safe to go ahead and crown Citigroup VP Michael J. McCarthy, aka "Large" (yeah, I'm sure), as King Douchebag this week for being a homophobic, misogynistic a-hole. I can also gladly report that McCarthy got his walking papers from Citigroup for his "work" on the side at Take A Report, a blog so revoltingly misogynistic, it makes Tucker Max look like Gloria Steinem.
(WARNING: do not click that link unless you want to be really righteously indignant all day.)
A representative of Citicorp issued a statement that McCarthy was terminated for violating Citigroup's code of conduct.
MAMAPOP IS SMART POP CULTURE ANALYSIS, COMMENTARY, MERCILESS FUN-MAKING AND OTHER SUNDRY AWESOME, DISHED UP DAILY BY PARENTS, FOR PARENTS, AND ANYONE ELSE WHO UNDERSTANDS THAT PLAYTIME IS BETTER WITH VODKA. PLEASE TO ENJOY. READ MORE...
