Thursday, 27 September 2007


Courtney Love’s got a new-found penchant for 3000-word MySpace blogs addressing everything from re-touched pap shots to vicious celebrity gossip and just, you know, her general day-to-day life and shit. They’re epic, rambling, occasionally incoherent works of genius. In a world of diluted, inexpert celebrity gossip, where anyone can publish an opinion as fact, her blogs are gospel. When Sharon Osbourne recently accused Courtney of giving Jack drugs, there was no need to wait a week to get a response from “a close friend” in Heat. Here’s Courtney!

sharon knows thats NONSENSICAL but she was too cowardly to pick on Elton who shes apparently vicious about behind his back . Ive never heard this then again we dont... hang . Desperation or someone on a kamikaze mission- ? ..hmmmmm? . and Madge who she must just be scared of-=she just avoided that one. hmmmm. the plot thins. love the kids. Love Kelly love Jack love the dad, hell i even thought her and i were fine but she m ustve been sooooo scared and desperate to pull that one outta her butt, cos its just so insane Thous shalt not bear false witness. ESPECIALLY ABOUT CHILDREN! i Feel sorry for her that she resorted to such abusive lies . I hope she learns a little more about karma. bless. Sorry but,when it comes to kids i just cannot no comment.

Vets don’t get this close to the horse’s mouth. It’s of-the-moment brilliance.

But this outpouring of what Cult Of The Amateur author Andrew Keen calls “mass exhibitionism on an unprecedented scale” has a peculiar side effect: unwanted obsessions with random celebrities. A personal aside: a Courtney Love fixation, however fresh, is to be expected from a former grungekid steeped in hopeless Hole nostalgia. But in the name of flannel shirts and babydoll dresses, I never expected to be saddled with a Rosie O’Donnell addiction.

But Ro, dear Ro, I cannot stop reading about you and yours on the internet.

There’s the magnificent blog, a cryptic splurge of quoted song lyrics, haiku-style advice, tabloid-gossip denials and cultural recommendations. I know that Rosie loves Joni Mitchell and Sharon Osbourne (her again!). I know that she’s spiritual (“ATONEMENT / at one ment / at one with God”). I know that she wasn’t being mean when she turned down Oprah’s interview request (“although fueds seems 2 b all the rage / there isnt one / regardless of what u read / or see on fast food tv”). And I know she’s into Amy Winehouse, because she posted a video of herself singing along to Rehab.

It’s not the blog, however seductive, that makes this a daily staple. There are others out there. Courtney could have stolen her thunder. But then I discovered Ask Ro, her daily Q&A session, the mouth-agape gossip-fodder that positions Rosie as a politician-messiah-martyr-mother deity who will tackle anything, for anyone. See:

For writes:
My mom gave up pills & shrinks & took up religion. Then killed herself after a lifetime of battling mental illness. When a person loses all hope, empathy is key & political stance matters a damn.
love 2 u

And another:

Bridget writes:
Do you ever let the kids go tubing behind your boat? Those are my best memories as a child.
oh yes

And one more:

Lee writes:
Call me stupid…I love the sound of sea gulls.
me 2

Posters don’t just want love and advice. Ro even tackles the hate mail, of which there’s a considerable amount:

Stella writes:
Hey RO,
if you tried more religion, you could give up pills and the shrink, u & millions of selfish libs
oh stella

The withering “oh stella” says it all. In fact, I’m worried about Rosie. I’m worried that she’s sacrificing herself to take on this mammoth communication task. She sounds weary. I might send her an e-hug.

That concern for Rosie O’Donnell’s well-being is now part of my life is a testament to the power of blogs. She’s made her story indispensable for people who didn’t know they cared. And this is the future of celebrity – indiscriminate fascination for endlessly blogging celebrities, constantly raising the bar by revealing more and more about their psyches. It’s why Lindsay Lohan’s barely literate, well-meaning letter about Robert Altman’s demise is much more intriguing than an anonymous report on another DUI arrest. Time will tell, but Rosie O’Donnell could be in the process of reinventing fame. And I’ll be reading about it as it happens.


Wednesday, 26 September 2007


New motto: "A little Whitney, a little Dolly, a little Beth, that's fine."

It sure is fine by us, any time you like, Beth.

What a fine, fine way to end today's day of love.


Hard as it is to believe I’m writing this, Lil Kim has outstayed her welcome, so it’s time for a brand-spanking song of the day to take us through the next few weeks. This isn’t new, as such, but I’ve been listening to it a lot lately – here’s the Thom Yorke-sampling Us Placers, by Kanye, Lupe Fiasco and Pharrell.

Over there. On the right. That’s it. Gently does it...


The modern age is bewildering. War rages. Hysteria grows about crime and punishment. The climate’s shot to shit. And there are people who just don’t get Mariah Carey: a woman so ridiculous that she now has an assistant whose sole responsibility is taking care of Mimi's tit tape.

Why is she (Mariah, not the assistant - at least, not just yet) not being offered an honorary damehood, for services to the camp and surreal?

Remember, she needs somebody to hold her beverage while she sips, and rumours abound that she has an employee whose sole task is to change her tampon. I’d do that job, just to put it on my CV. Who cares if it’s not even true? Mariah makes it believable, and for that, she is awesome.

[via Hollywood Rag]


Sarah Silverman reminisces about her abortion glory days, to the soundtrack of Time Of Your Life:

I saw Jesus Is Magic at the weekend. Just to continue today's love-in theme.


There’s all this talk of Marco Pierre White being totally 4 real in the kitchen and everything, but it’s left to one half of Two Fat Ladies to raise the authentic culinary stakes: Clarissa Dickson Wright (um, right - you know, the one that's not dead) is being prosecuted for alleged hare coursing, which has been illegal since the fox-hunting ban.

You don’t get that sort of nonsense from Jamie Oliver. Read more...


Not literally, obv. I must be feeling intergalactic today because every post is about love, love, love. Jennifer Saunders, on my list since childhood thanks to that French & Saunders sketch where they drop half a Tic-Tac and throw shapes to the Home & Away theme tune, is back with a new BBC2 series, The Life And Times Of Vivienne Vyle.

There’s a lengthy interview in today’s Guardian about the show, which is, bizarrely, co-written with House Of Tiny Tearaways’ child-rearing expert Tanya Byron and which spoofs shows like Jeremy Kyle. I’m watching a preview of it tonight so I’ve yet to see if it lives up to its promise, but here’s an excerpt which explains why she’s at the top of my admirational mountain. (Yes, I’ve got one. And what.)

"We wanted it to look like a European art film, but on a low budget. We got a director [Rupert Jones] who had absolutely no experience of shooting TV comedy. The way it looks and the way the character is treated are much more to do with Woody Allen and Pedro Almodóvar than with Absolutely Fabulous."

I think it’s love.

Read the full thing here.



Calling Janice Dickinson “tacky”, Perez Hilton, is like calling Britney a headcase – it’s a lifestyle, yo. She thrives on it.

Here's Janice visiting the site of Gianni Versace’s murder:

If there was a religion centred around her batshit-insanity, with Tyra Banks voodoo dolls and Everything About Me Is Fake… And I’m Perfect as its holy text, I’d be out on the streets canvassing like a Scientologist. She is God.


Get ur nacho on: Missy, oh so quiet of late, has been busy eating crisps for cash.

Watch the video at the wonderful Jezebel, who are going up in my already high estimation because they post about everything. Missy. does. Loves it.

Tuesday, 18 September 2007


...because there may be changes afoot, because for a whole host of reasons this isn't working like I want it to. In the meantime, the Gossip just posted this on their MySpace bulletins - Standing In The Way Of Control being performed on Australian Idol. It's a strange old world.

They say it's a "total embarrassment". I say it's kind of awesome. Tomatoes, tomatoes.


Monday, 10 September 2007


So Song Of The Day isn't always going to be a new band. Today it is L'il Kim, because I've been listening to her all weekend, and because she's so ridiculously too much, and because this picture looks nice on the homepage.

And since you clicked through and I can't turn that fucking feature off, have some L'il Kim facts: she's 4' 11"! Her middle name is Denise! Paris is a pussy - Kimberly Denise got a 366-day sentence for perjury!


You know that famous Guerrilla Girls campaign around the Oscars back in 2002? The one about the US Senate being more progressive than Hollywood, because just 4% of directors are female? Adjust the figures: someone defected. Larry Wachowski, of the Matrix-making Wachowski Brothers, recently completed the transition from male to female, and, intriguingly, will be talking to the press about becoming Lana.

Given that even Jodie Foster won’t talk about being gay, or even being outed (she gave a juicy quote to Entertainment Weekly on that magazine cover… oh, hold on, she said “no comment”. Yawn), this sounds pretty cool.

Except that now, the people behind the Wachowskis’ new movie Speed Racer are denying the whole sex change thing. There’s a probing piece about it on Cinematical, which pretty much implies that Speed Racer bosses want to avoid “negative publicity” around the film. The site earlier reported that Lana would not be allowed to handle the movie’s publicity, for fear of alienating an audience.

Excuse the righteousness, but every time something about trannys, homos, dykes, queers, lezzos, poofs or fags crops up in Hollywood, it reverts right back to the silent era. Because that sort of thing doesn’t exist in the entertainment business. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.


Props to the extreme ridiculousness of German talk show host Eva Herman, who showed extreme awareness of her nation’s politically-sensitive history by expressing admiration for Nazi “values like the family, children and motherhood...

And killing Jews and gays. Cooooool.”

OK, I embellished. She still got sacked, though.



Yet another reason to girl-crush on Sarah Silverman… as we needed yet another reason.

Look out for the bit where she turns her face into a vagina.


Remember us posting about the French author Mazarine Pingeot, who wrote a novel with more than a passing resemblance to an open case? Distasteful, perhaps, but Pingeot just isn’t going far enough to shock.

Polish pulp writer Krystian Bala, on the other hand, has just been sentenced to 25 years in prison for his role in the abduction, torture and murder of his wife’s alleged lover, which he then recounted in suspiciously perfect detail in his next thriller. Like, duh.

Still, if it’s good enough for OJ Simpson…


Thursday, 6 September 2007


Everyone (OK, literally me and one other person on googlechat today) talks about Marc Jacobs’ boyfriend Jason Preston having his boo's logo tattooed on his forearm. Kind of weird. Kind of funny. Imagine if he shacked up with the head of Asda.

But Jase clearly has tat taste, because he’s just got a giant ‘Mariah’ inked across his tum – in honour of Mimi, obv:

“I grew up loving her, and now that I know her, I love her even more. I know I'll never regret it, so that's why I got it.”

Girl is fierce.

[via Jezebel, image via Perez Hilton]

Wednesday, 5 September 2007


Amy Winehouse not only impressed the industry-packed audience at the Mercury Music Prize last night, she used the down-time of the interval to cure AIDS, cancer and the common cold.

Pope Benedict XVI joined the clamour of praise for the singer today by offering Winehouse a beatitude, adding: “If she can prove she’s performed a miracle (other than turning up for a gig) we’ll waive the whole ‘death’ part and promote her straight to Saint.”



Q: How happy is James?

A: Very happy!


Two funny things involving the word ‘labia’:

1. If you go to Rome on the train, you get off in a coach station and there’s a bus going to Labia. It’s written in big on the front.

2. My lip balm has got ‘labial’ down the side, presumably for those non-English speaking European Spanish types. I find it amusing. I’m puerile and proud.

Something less funny: ‘labiaplasty’. Cosmetic surgery on lady-parts has increased over 400 per cent in the US over the past 10 years, and doctors are concerned at the lack of safety procedures in place. Meaning you could end up with a minnie less attractive than Wino’s track marks.

But better still is Newsweek’s headline: ‘Be careful down there’. As if you could accidentally slice off bits of, um, your bits.

You know America has that ‘Got milk?’ poster campaign? Get female celebs to pose, legs akimbo, with the slogan: 'Filles, stop fiddling with your fannies!'

You can have that one for free.

[via Consumerist]


And why are John et Jehn our Song Of The Day?

Because they are a bit French.

And that is a motto for every walk of life.