Blame Ron Howard For the Porn In Your Child's Video Game

Ron Howard, well known for fucking up major motion pictures like...say, The Davinci Code, is responsible for the downfall of our children's generation.

How else would you describe someone who made their directorial debut in a film entitled "Grand Theft Auto"? Futhermore, the IMDB description says:

Paula Powers, daughter of wealthy gubernatorial candidate Bigby Powers, decides to reject her parents' attempt at matchmaking and run off to Vegas to marry her sweetheart, Sam Freeman. As they drive away in a stolen Rolls-Royce, spurned suitor Collins Hedgeworth follows behind in hot pursuit, along with a cadre of goons hoping to get the $25,000 reward that's been offered for Paula's return. Can the young lovers make it to Vegas for a quickie wedding before the forces of conformity and privilege arrive to put a stop to their romance?

Click here for the trailer.


Blame him . . . for this.

Please, please, please America. . .

. . . pick Taylor Hicks as the new "American Idol" so we can start putting some nails in this coffin.

By all appearances, American Idol is poised to dominate broadcast television well into the 22nd Century. Apparenly Americans cannot get enough of seeing high-end kareoke on TV. The record companies get the added benefit of having a nationwide focus group-approved artist to invest in and guarantee sales.

That is, until the arrival of the arm-swinging, oddly crooning Taylor Hicks who looks like he's ready to pinch a deuce every time he sings. Hicks has gotten into the final two lineup off the collective pity of an entire nation. Whether Hicks is on the inside of this joke remains to be seen.

So, for those praying for an end to the nightmare of American Idol, I encourage you to get out your cellies and bite the bullet and vote Taylor Hicks For American Idol!


Come on kids, you know you
want in on this pudgy grey-haired
goodness!

Die David Blaine. . . die!

It's too bad David Blaine didn't make himself disappear years ago. That way we could have been spared his tired schtick of quasi-magic mixed with stupid human tricks.

His latest failed attempt included being submerged in a ball of water for 9 days while he ate and shit through a tube for all to see (a far cry from David Copperfield or Harry Houdini).

Then, to prove his manliness (since by all accounts his member should have shriveled off by then) he attempted to set the world record for holding his breath underwater -- which he failed at doing by almost two minutes.

So, essentially 18 million Americans (count 'em, Nielson) tuned in to watch a shriveled prune hold his breath for seven minutes.

Way to go America!



Can someone bring my
shit-tube back? I'm trying
to entertain here!

Howard Dean: On Message On Ethics

Those siding with the pathetic likes of Joe Biden and his ilk in their hatred of Howard Dean need to watch his performance on ABC's This Week on Sunday morning.

Following a bizarre open forum where George Stephanopoulus basically let Tom DeLay rant on end about DEMOCRATIC corruption (this from soon-to-be felon), Dean came in to immedate harsh questioning from GS.

Asked point blank that since he said DeLay should resign before he was indicted, does he also believe William Jefferson (D-LA) should resign if he is indicted, the conversation went:

GS: If Congressman Jefferson is indicted as many expect him to be to you think he should give up his seat.

Dean: (immediately) "Yes."

GS: (long pause) "No question?"

Dean: "Yeah."

GS: "Well. . . that is a straightforward answer, Governer Dean, thank you very much."

To watch the video for yourself, click here. To see GS have DeLay on his show and spend the whole time talking about gas prices, click here.

Family-Friendly Sex Advice From the City Paper

So the Washington City Paper has a new sex/dating blog by Melanie Boyer (FYI, anyone with good dirt on her can send it to me).

Only problem is, there's probably not that much scandalous material out there as Boyer's blog is really just a tablet for her to muse out loud what would better be left in her head.

Take for example a tidbit from her latest post (about what I have no idea):

They sent me home while they checked him in, just for observation and to run some tests, to rule things out. I put the clean sheets on the bed, so my mom wouldn't have to do it when she got home. I thought about how I couldn't wait to tell Big Brother about the Return of High School Boy X. I thought about how there was no way we were going to Easter church tomorrow. I thought about how we were going to get years and years of jokes out of this ER-pick-up-business. I wondered if he would actually call. I knew he would. I thought about other things, but I didn't say them out loud.

It's too bad she felt the need to convey this story "out loud" because it's incredibly boring.

I look forward to future postings about cute boys at the carwash and mischevious waiters. Note to Boyer: Spice it up honey! And, in case you're wondering why many of those guys don't go for you. . . might I be so presumptuous as to suggest that maybe you are as tame in bed as you are on this blog.

Bill Maher's Bizarre Bond With Admitted Hip-Hop 'Coke Whore'

Yeah, that's right. Playboy Playmate hunter and HBO funnyman Bill Maher has stolen the heart of Karrine Steffans, the super-hot hip hop video vixen.

In a candid interview with the New York Daily News, Steffans says that Maher sexed her up far better than Usher, P-Diddy, and... get this ... Shaquille O'Neal.

But by far my favorite tidbit is:

Maher wasn't available for comment yesterday, but he told us in August he was serious about Steffans. While she waits to see what her romantic future holds, Steffans is furious over a piece of her freaky past that's been resurrected.

Tomorrow, Vivid Entertainment plans to release a DVD titled "Superhead," Steffans' nickname in the hip hop world. Her lawyers plan to file a motion in L.A. Federal Court to stop the release.

Steffans admits she signed a release form when she went before the cameras with the porn player known as Mr. Marcus. But she emphasizes, "That was six years ago, when I was a coke whore. I was a single mom. I needed money. Vivid makes it look like it's a new tape. They're using my current picture and a book title without my permission. If anyone profits from this film, I want my cut, which I will donate to charity."

I've set up a charity for Steffans: Reformed White-Boy Loving Hot Coke Whores Annonymous

I hate Tyra Banks

Yes, I said it. But let me clarify:

I hate Tyra Banks the hyper-annoying talk show hostess. I LOVE Tyra Banks the hot-ass supermodel.

Unfortunately, I've been seeing a lot more of the former than the latter and it's ruining my opinion of her!! And I really, really, REALLY, want to like her (can you tell I think she's hot?).

The only problem is her show is one long trainwreck tied together by makeup and Weight Watchers commercials. In one show she's helping an abused teen deal with her trauma by sharing stories about how tough Paris modeling shows were for her. In the next, she's trying to teach overweight girls with confidence-issues to walk like a supermodel on the catwalk (resulting in their inevitable collapse and responding cackles from Tyra).

What is this show actually teaching girls?

I don't know what I'm so mad about. Tony Danza has his own fucking talk show. At least Tyra's audience is packed with hot, impressionable young girls (the type Tony Danza was promised when he decided to castrate himself for his female-friendly show).

SOMEBODY ARREST PHILL RICHTER

In an upcoming show, Tyra will have WayPoint director Phill Richter demonstrate the ease with which women's drinks can be spiked at bars. Interestingly (if not a little morbidly), Richter goes undercover and spikes 4 girls drinks with salt without them noticing.

Is anyone curious as to how Richter became so adept at this curious behavior? But fear not, Richter is not out to protect women as much as he's out to pitch his company's stupid spiked-drink test known as Drink Detective -- which drunk girls are supposed to remember to put in each one of their drinks before they guzzle them down.

Monday Media Medley

Doogie Howser thinks that taking libidinous and offensive roles he will bury the ghost of his most memorable role. Memo to Neil Patrick Harris (Doogie Howser): You can never escape. Never.

Leave it to Condoleeza Rice to upstage Bush on the tempest-in-a-teapot of the Spanish version of the national anthem. Bush objects, saying it ought to be sung in American. Rice says no big deal. The Grouch says they should both be glad ANYONE who isn't forced by law wants to actually sing that song.

The farthest outpost in the television talk-show badlands (no, not Tony Danza. . . yet), known as "The View," is actually going to get worse.

I know I teased everyone with my brief on Mick Jagger's new television project. Turns out it's a Punked-style make-believe crime caper. No joke necessary, I'm serious.