If you haven't seen any of R. Kelly's "R&B Opera" yet, you are one lucky human being.  It's easily the most ridiculous shit ever.  It's supposed to be this dramatic storyline told through a series of videos, but not only is it the opposite of captivating, it's not even music.  Just rambling gibberish laid over the same crappy backbeat, looped over and over.  Have you ever heard a five year old tell a meaningless story?  It's like that -- one long, monotone, run-on sentence with no general direction -- except it has the occasional "ohhhhhh" mixed in to give it... extreme gayness.

You can check out R. Kelly's official site if you have no idea what I'm talking about.  After about two minutes, you'll probably turn it off thinking the same thing I did: "It's a good thing he gained all that credibility when he filmed himself raping and pissing on the heads of young children, or he might have had some trouble getting the green light for this project."

The only good thing to come out of all this:  In mockery, Jimmy Kimmel has recorded his own R&B Opera, and each Friday a new part is showcased on Jimmy Kimmel Live.  I've been adding them to this page as they've aired: Jimmy Kimmel's R&B Opera: The Pizza.

Update 7/29:  The third and final episode aired tonight, and has been added to the page.

The Power Rankings are something by buddy MC and I used to do on our old sports site.  They'll provide a new way for me to sound off on several things that are rocking my world each week, and get some fresh written content on the site.  They'll be published every Monday or Tuesday, depending on my weekend activities.  If you think you know my taste, and you come across something you think should be listed, e-mail me.

(Although this was originally written for Monday, some tech issues set it back.)

	1. Family Guy movie leaks two months early. After hearing this weekend that the Family Guy full-length film (Stewie Griffin: The Untold Story, to be released on DVD on September 27) had hit the net, it took me roughly nine seconds to track it down via bit torrent awesomeness, seven hours to download the entire 700 MB file, and 83 minutes to masturbate several times while watching it. I was expecting big things, but at the same time had my doubts about whether the humor could hold up for four times the length of a regular episode.  I am stupid.  Not only does it manage to live up to the show's incredibly high standards, but with Seth MacFarlane unshackled by network reigns, he rips through the boundaries he's already famous for stretching on FOX every Sunday night.  Notable upgrades: more racial stereotyping, saucier sexual innuendo, and characters dropping F-Bombs. Related Link:  *COUGH*
	2. Dane Cook's Retaliation. His dual CD/DVD comedy album drops tomorrow (now yesterday).  Go get it and listen to it.  Or be like me and buy two copies; one to listen to, and one to melt into liquid form and consume orally. I have no idea where I was going with that.  I promise it wasn't sexual. Related Link: Purchase Retaliation, Dane Cook Video Page
	3. Lance Armstrong rides off with a seventh Tour de France victory. We all learn to ride a bike as a kid.  But most of us get off the bike at some point to move on to bigger and better things.  But not Lance Armstrong, who kept cycling into his 30's and still managed to accomplish things the rest of us only dream about.  Like giving testicular cancer a head start to his lungs and brain, only to bitch slap it out of his system.  Or being at the top of his field for seven straight years, or earning tens of millions of dollars in endorsements, or converting yellow plastic into a generator of hope, inspiration, and unity... not to mention revenue for cancer research.  Or dating rock stars.  Or being the example millions of people point to when trying to help loved ones through adversity. One can only imagine what he's going to accomplish now that he's finally joined the rest of us and gotten off that damn bike. Related Links: Official Livestrong Site, Funny picture of a young Lance
	4. Wedding Crashers. Simply put: the funniest movie I've seen in a long time.  For those of you that haven't seen it, I'm not going to be a quote-wielding asshole and flex my ability to memorize lines, but I will give it a ringing endorsement. (Lengthy Side Note: The other day I went to rent Finding Neverland at Blockbuster and ended up accidentally taking home a copy of Finding Nemo.  I'm assuming because their names were so similar, the cases got shuffled around and I grabbed the wrong one.  Not a big deal, considering Finding Nemo kicks some serious ass.  But... For some reason it got me thinking about what the worst possible accidental pickup of a movie alphabetically proximal to your intended rental could be.  Without a doubt, the most tragic scenario I could come up with was thinking you're taking Wedding Crashers home, only to end up with The Wedding Planner.  If that ever happens to me, I'm going to skullfuck every last Blockbuster employee.  On planet earth.) By the way, Microsoft's spell check now recognizes "skullfuck" on my PC.  I can't wait to call my mom and tell her.  She's going to be so proud. Related Link: College Humor's 'Wedding Hookups Explained'
	5. The NHL is back. Thanks to the lockout, we now know what's worse than hockey fans: Hockey fans crying about not having any hockey to watch, then impeding on our space and hobbies to fill the void.  Anyone else feel like every time they watched a basketball game at a bar this year, some mullet in a Red Wings jersey sat down next to you and inevitably needed the intricacies of the possession arrow explained to him during a key point in the game? So, while I couldn't care less about the NHL coming back, at least the hockey fans will go back into their caves now.  And to make a lame attempt at being positive: with a few rule changes and this "Next Gretzky" kid entering the league, maybe the NHL is headed for more exciting times.  God knows they took a step in the right direction with that vibrant new black and white, "we accidentally saved the file in grayscale" logo. Related Link: Sorry, hockey fans aren't smart enough to make websites.
	6. The Sopranos, Seasons One, Two, Three, Four, and Five. My parents never shelled out for HBO when I was in high school, and it wasn't even an option in the dorms my freshman year of college, so not until The Sopranos' fifth season did I have a chance to watch the show.  Earlier this month, I decided to use my online Blockbuster account (and occasionally the Blockbuster across the street) to see what I've been missing.  To say that it hooked me would be a severe understatement. In a little over two weeks, I managed to shred through all five seasons, a total of 65 episodes.  Do the math yourself if you want to be disgusted by my average daily Sopranos intake.  At one point I woke up the day after finishing Season Two, and didn't sleep again until I'd watched the entire third season.  When I ran out of episodes yesterday, it felt eerily similar to a relationship breakup.  That last sentence makes me fucking sick. By the way, Michael Imperioli is an awesome talent.  In my opinion he's the best actor on the show, and I had no idea he was writing some of the episodes.  I'm now willing to give him a mulligan for My Baby's Daddy. Related Link: The-Sopranos.com
	7. Drew Rosenhaus saves a life. This will probably be the last time you see this shitdick spun in a positive light on my website.  But any time you take the initiative to pump a dead kid's lungs full of air while a bunch of petrified adults stand around picking their air-tight crapholes, you deserve some recognition.  This wasn't Wendy Peffercorn and Squints, this was a legit crisis, and Rosenhaus nutted up. Related Link: Actual Terrell Owens quotes from TO's message boards
	8. Being Bobby Brown. Remember around the time The Bodyguard came out, when Whitney Houston was the epitome of class and wiping the floor with her two closest competitors, Mariah Carey and Janet Jackson? Well, her publicist during those days deserves at least 95% of Whitney's assets.  This chick is to "batshit crazy" what Star Jones is to "a little on the pudgy side," and back then it was somehow completely undetectable.  Plus, her face looks strikingly similar to my post-crap, pre-flush toilet bowl 100% of the time.  She is an ugly crack addict.  And that's great television. Oh yeah, and Bobby's entertaining too.  He reveals things about Whitney with comments like, "I've had to dig a dookie bubble out of your butt." And they have a friend named Skenecia.  This show has it all. Related Link: Four Four's weekly episode reviews, Bobby's mugshots
	9. Perry Bible Fellowship. After a one week hiatus and several disappointing efforts, my favorite online comic strip redeemed itself with two new pieces this Sunday. Related Link: PBF Comic Archive

Yesterday, the world lost one of the good guys: Gerry Thomas, inventor of the TV Dinner. Here‘s my tribute, in extended mock-Bud Light “Real Men of Genius“ form:

Today, we salute you, Mr. TV Dinner Inventor Guy. First developed in 1954, your edible remote control sidekick is a model of mealtime efficiency, enabling us to limit dishwashing duties to the nightly re-scrubbing of a single fork.  By packaging each of your meals using the exact same dimensions, you’ve allowed us to maximize our freezer space without using a single ounce of creativity. As long as “Should I stack these vertically, or align them horizontally in a cavalcade bookcase of mystery meat awesomeness?” is our toughest dinnertime question, everything will be okay in GuyVille.

Thanks to you, for the past five decades no single man has been forced to roll up his sleeves and expose his fingers to flaunt availability at the supermarket. Not when pushing a shopping cart no less than 50% full of your tiny boxes can radiate bachelorhood with the strength of 10,000 naked ring fingers and mismatched outfits.  In other words... thank you for lending me a hand in nailing the neighborhood grocery slut. We've all been there.  She was practically begging for it, marching those braless breasts back and forth between the vegetable misters and the frozen food section.  It's in instances such as these that your soon-to-be-steamy plastic film can seal more than microwave-induced heat, but seal the deal on a raunchy hand job in the cereal aisle. I wonder if you ever smiled guiltily after hearing, “We’ve got a spill on aisle five,” over the loudspeaker at the grocery store.  Because I have, and I owe it all to you.

Let it be known that your alternating-temperatures-with-every-bite invention affects more than just big-dicked single dudes like myself.  Even the married, shackled-scrotum-having guys out there can appreciate your work.  I've seen it a thousand times: a man comes home after a hard day's work to find his woman has failed miserably in an attempt to cook something stupid, only to resort to the ultimate sin of wifehood: preparing a TV Dinner.  While sulking on the outside, that husband will gleefully dig his fork around those magical plastic-divider walls, happily reminded of stories of bachelorhood's past... and knowing the guilt trip he's laying down will have him digging around a different set of magical walls in no time.  (VAGINAL!)

The list of ramifications the TV Dinner has had on manhood is infinite. It not only gave birth to the microwave, but single-handedly kept it relevant long enough to see the roaring Breakfast Burrito and Hot Pocket eras.  The basic premise of your masterpiece thankfully blew away any semblance of family time at the dinner table, and slung "How was your day, honey?" the way of the Dodo Bird.  But mostly, I just really enjoyed hand-fucking that chick while Tony the Tiger and Cap'n Crunch stared in amazement.  Thank you, Mr. Thomas.  Thank you.

Related: TV Dinner Inventor Gerry Thomas Dies  |  "Real Men of Genius" radio commercials

Despite Revenge of the Sith being one of the ten highest grossing films of all-time, box office numbers have been down during 19 of the past 20 weeks.  What's to blame?  So-called experts have been regurgitating the same theories over and over:  "Internet piracy is running rampant."  "DVDs and improved home entertainment systems are rendering the theatre experience less than awe-inspiring."  "Blibbity blobbity bloo blah blee."  That's all gibberish to me.  What it comes down to is making movies people will go out of their way to see.  Compute the numbers however you want, it's Hollywood's own damn fault.  In fact, here's something else to compute: AN ORIGINAL FUCKING IDEA.

But what I can't look past is the fact that every new movie in America comes preloaded with an idea that's been pounded into the ground like a casket buried by a necrophiliac cemetery worker.  Whether it be via an earlier theater release (Bad News Bears, The Longest Yard, etc.), a TV show (Dukes of Hazzard, Bewitched, etc.), a video game (Tomb Raider, Resident Evil, etc.), a comic book (Spiderman, Hulk, etc.), or sometimes ALL FOUR (Batman, Superman, etc.), it's all been done before.  And you're going to tell me Internet freeloaders are the ones pirating movies?  Sounds like a lot of these weren't even Hollywood's to begin with.

It's a sad day when...

...Batman Begins gets a standing ovation.

Not because I thought it was a bad movie, but because of what I heard shouted repeatedly during the final credits: "They got it right!"  They got it right?  Suddenly not fucking up a movie is considered a landmark occasion?  Can you imagine if we held everything in life to the same standard?  Let's all jump on top of the counter and dance the next time our fries don't get sneezed on at McDonald's, or give a honk and a wave to every passing car that doesn't go halfsies with us on a head-on collision.  "My baby was delivered with only minor head trauma?  Let's blow this joint, Doc, tonight the drinks are on me."

...biopics are some of the most original movies in Hollywood.

It must be real tough to come up with those storylines.

...even the funniest guys alive can't avoid beating a gimmick into the ground.

Hey, did you guys see that Will Ferrell / Ben Stiller / Luke Wilson / Owen Wilson / Jack Black / Vince Vaughn movie where Will Ferrell / Ben Stiller / Luke Wilson / Owen Wilson / Jack Black / Vince Vaughn made a cameo?  Totally unexpected!  Luckily, this is a trend that's actually entertaining.  For now, anyway.

...we aren't even sure who to credit with creative ideas anymore.  Two examples:

1. I'm so sick of hearing ignorant sluts tell me that Tim Burton and Johnny Depp shouldn't have risked ruining "the original" with their rendition of Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.  "It's sacred ground, they got it perfect the first time!" they say.  Good movie?  Yes.  Got it perfect?  Far from it.  "The original" was a total rape job of Roald Dahl's book.  A lot of it was rewritten to avoid controversy, and the new story was so beloved that the book was republished with a "politically correct" overhaul.  That version is what's on the shelves today, as it caused the first edition to fade into oblivion.

Why not let the Burton/Depp combo go through with their "re-imagining" of Dahl's book?  Even though it saddens me that the term "remake" has become so cliché that we're now using synonyms like "re-imagining," someone's gotta do this film in a way that honors Roald's initial vision.  The people who worked with Gene Wilder made a good film, but they didn't make Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, written by Roald Dahl, First Edition.

2.  Warner Bros. was recently ordered to pay $17.5 million to Robert Clark for basing their new movie on the Dukes of Hazzard TV series... because the TV series was based on Clark's movie Moonrunners.  I guess sometimes it pays to come up with original ideas, eh?

Jessica Simpson is filing for divorce

Between this site and other sites I've written for, I've probably written some version of that headline a dozen times.  This latest version of the story broke last night on several sources, this summary comes from News America:

"Jessica Simpson and Johnny Knoxville are going public. Johnny is leaving his wife, Simpson is filing for divorce - they are shopping the exclusive story to the weeklies under Joe Simpson's direction. Her PR instinct is that the news will break in next week's weeklies to fuel some fire before the July 28th Dukes of Hazzard premiere."

I need to get back to my supermodel orgy in the hot tub filled with heroin, so I'll just mention that this is probably bogus.  Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie made a very deliberate effort to stay apart in the weeks before Mr. and Mrs. Smith because the industry despises bad press right before a flick opens.  But it does come on the heels of a New York Daily News story that said that Simpson and Lachey were very distant at Jessica's 25th birthday party last Saturday.  And if you think that's surprising, how do you think I felt when I discovered that hooker wasn't even really dead yet.

Jessica at the ESPY awards earlier this week:

Eva Longoria finally admits dating Tony Parker

It seems like almost everyone has had a shot at Eva Longoria in the past year.  She's been linked with Keifer Sutherland, JC Chavez and even god-dammed Fez.  Not to mention ex-husband, Tyler Christopher, who she didn't actually divorce until this past March.  But now the website Contact Music is reporting:

"Eva Longoria has finally confirmed she's dating Spurs point guard Tony Parker.  The actress hit the gossip pages last month when she was spotted wearing what looked like an engagement ring at the NBA finals, but insisted she wasn't about to become Mrs. Parker.  Joining Parker in China for the Basketball Without Borders charity event, Longoria has, however, confirmed she's dating the sportsman. She says, 'I've been linked to so many guys, but they got it right.'"

These two seem to have a little too much going for them.  Parker has two NBA title rings, Longoria stars on a show that just got 15 Emmy nods.  Pisses me off a little.  Bad memories, like the popular kids who were mean to me in high school.  I thought they were beginning to accept me when I was elected homecoming king.  But then came the pigs blood came.  To be fair, I probably didn't have to use my telepathy to torture everyone in the room, but the so-called "innocent" were making such a ruckus, and after a while their screaming got pretty annoying  And I figured, hey, you only get one senior year homecoming.  You know what I mean?

Fergie loves drugs

Female First UK is reporting that "Black Eyed Peas" singer/eye-candy Fergie admitted this week that she was addicted to hard core drugs up until just a few years ago.  She claims she began taking Ecstasy in her 20s before her habit spun out of control and she started experimenting with harder narcotics.  She confessed: "I stopped meeting the girls, broke up with a boyfriend and started going out and taking Ecstasy.  I was hanging around in a different crowd.  From there, I got into harder drugs and a really bad place emotionally".

That's all well and good, but none of that explains why she's 30 and looks 50.  Or why she's constantly sweating like an Alabama mule.  Ohh... uhhh... never mind.  I guess it kinda does.  But hey, good for her.  I was in the gutter myself at one point, but then an angel from heaven named Dr. Phil swooped in and saved my life by telling me to "get real" every 15 seconds.  Hey you guys, get real.  Get real.

Really makes you think, huh?

Mariah Carey's clothes are falling off

From Contact Music: "Mariah Carey accidentally flashed her breasts at stunned fans during a TV show in Germany when her dress fell apart.  But the red-faced superstar saw the funny side, quipping, "Someone bring me a jacket or the show's off, we all know how quickly these images can spread around the world."

I only put this up to show off Mariah Carey's silver tongue for improv comedy, cause, somehow, remarkably, there are no decent pictures of this.  There are the first two at the bottom here, but don't even bother to click the first one cause that's about as big as its gonna get.  The sixth one is kind of old.  And I threw in the last two so you could use your imagination.  Which means you're probably screwed, cause if you're anything like me, the Internet has worn your imagination down to a nub from lack of practice.  If I was a cartoon, and you could get a close up of my brain, it wouldn't show a mouse sprinting in a wheel, it would show a donkey asleep in the mud.  Asking me to use my imagination to masturbate is like asking me to build a log cabin.  I know people used to do that kind of thing, but I wouldn't even know where to start.

Tom Cruise is banned by Paris

I'd sooner jack off in front of my parents than admit the United States could learn something from the French, so I'll pass on without comment this story about the city of Paris banning Tom Cruise:

The Paris city hall has pledged "never to welcome" the actor to the city of love - all because of his membership of the Church of Scientology.  Like many other European governments, the French authorities view Scientology - founded in the US in 1954 by science-fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard - as a dangerous cult.

I was lecturing at Oxford on the philosophy of Hegel recently and I witnessed first hand how awesomely bigoted the Europeans are towards scientology.  And by "bigoted", I mean "sane and rational."  Scientology is fuckin crazy and it pains me that people wont just admit that and shun these lunatics like the lepers they are.  Instead they're becoming more accepted.  I want a donkey to kick Bill Gates in the balls until he changes the fact that Microsoft spell check recognizes 'Scientology' but not 'blog' or my name.  I'm sick to death of idiots telling me that the United States was founded for freedom of religion.  Ask one of those witches on fire if America was founded on freedom of religion.

So, am I saying we should tie scientologists to the stake and burn them?  Yes, yes I am.  Sorry if that wasn't more clear.

I do call dibs on fucking the easily-duped Catherine Bell before it's her time for the flame.  Maybe my love can fill the void she's tried to fill with Scientology.

Cash Warren is an idiot

First of all, I'd like to mention how awesome it is that Jessica Alba drives a Jeep Cherokee.  Her movie just broke a 17 week slump at the box office, she could drive a chariot led by white stallions if she wanted, but instead she drives an American SUV.  Its nice to know that when I have sex with her, Ill slap her ass and it will sound like liberty.

Secondly I'd like to point out that her boyfriend Cash Warren is a clueless idiot, who seemingly doesn't realize that he's a directors assistant (to Tim Story - director of Fantastic Four) and she's Jessica-fucking-Alba.  Somehow it hasn't dawned on him that maybe he should give her a hand with the groceries I'm sure she just paid for.   I would dramatically rise up out of a wheel chair and wrestle a bear if I though it might impress Jessica Alba.  All he can manage is to stand there like a mincing gaywad in his pink shoes.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a weird craving for honey butter.

I'm not sure how I missed this one, especially considering my entire future was riding on it, but apparently Tiffany Amber-Thiessen got married over the weekend to "actor" Brady Smith.  What a DICK.

So, for all the guys who grew up in the SBTB era as I did and feel like their testicles have just been halfway removed by a cheese grater just as I do... well, at least the answer to our pube-old question of "What would it take to land Kelly Kapowski?" is finally here:

Apparently, as a prerequisite you have to land the role of "Cheating Boyfriend" in an episode of "Andy Richter Controls the Universe," followed by a cameo as "SWAT Commander" for a single scene on "Charmed," and cap it all off with a brilliant take as "Bartender" in one episode of "Judging Amy."  I know I'm impressed.

If only that criteria had been presented to me beforehand, I probably wouldn't feel so inclined to tell her she can shove that hyphen up her anal hallway and delete me from her speed dial.  By the way, does anyone know either A) something totally bad ass to write using the letters "T.A.T." or B) how to uncarve the letters "T.A.T." from a possibly hypothetical person's chest?  Okay fine, my friend needs to know but doesn't want his e-mail address made public.  So if you send the info to me, I can just forward it to him.

Titanium American Express is here

Good news if you're a pretentious jackass, American Express is now rolling out an ultra exclusive Titanium card to slowly replace the invitation-only Black Card, currently the card of choice for such image paranoid idiots as Lindsay Loan, Jay-Z and Sean Combs.  The new card will have a 2,500 annual fee and a minimum 250,000 of required spending, but it comes with an unlimited credit line and members only perks.  It also comes standard with confused looks from cashiers who have never seen it and long waits in airport security as you set off the X-ray machine.  I swear to Christ, only a celebrity would pay more for something less useful.  But, whatever, cause I've long since stopped paying for things with my Black AmEx, since it's not nearly extra fancy enough anymore.  Now, whenever I'm buying a condom studded with diamonds or having my midget dipped in gold, I hand the cashier a live human baby.  (I'm kidding of course, it's just an African baby.)

And yes, Lindsay does have a Black Card.  And yes, she was dumb enough to leave it in a cab about a year ago.

Coffee is for closers only.  Tom Cruise gets coffee.

Stop me if you've heard this one before:

1) B-List actress who used to star in crappy WB drama falls out of the spotlight.
C) Actress meets with Tom Cruise
7) Actress converts to Scientology.
%) Actress now the lead in a hard to swallow work of fiction with leading man Tom Cruise!

Ever since Keri Russell scored her plum supporting role in Mission Impossible III, the Felicity alumna has "suddenly become very interested" in (Scientology)" reports Radar Online.  (Russell) is reportedly excited to learn more from the master (Cruise). She's even been spotted buying books on Scientology and visiting the sect's L.A. Celebrity Center, sources say.

Say what you will about Cruise and his insane alien ramblings, but it's almost kind of admirable to be handed a pitch as 10 shades of crazy as scientology and still be able to sell it.  No one has been that smooth since Hitler - a short dark-haired Austrian who said "we tall blond Germans should rule the world."   So, see, Tom Cruise and Hitler have more in common that you originally thought.  And that was probably a lot.  Sure, they have their quirks, but man, talk about salesman!

Brittany Murphy is confusingly hot

To the best of my knowledge, I've never had sex with Brittany Murphy.  And I think I'd remember because a little of her seems to go a long way.  She always seems to have that manic energy, and I don't care how hot her voice is, eventually I'd have to tell her to shut the hell up.  But I admire the
fact that's she's been on several USO tours in Iraq and she dates regular guys like you or your friend (not me though, I'm a very famous Internet celebrity).  In fact I think she's still dating the guy she met when she hired him to hang her Christmas lights.  And since that's normally a job for 12 year olds and recent parolees, I think that places him squarely in the 'average guy' category.  The idea of a big Hollywood star dating the gardener is actually pretty trippy when you think about it.  Especially if you're high.  So if you weren't absolutely blown away by that last part, get stoned and re-read it.  Oh, I know.  You can't fuckin believe it now, can you?

Quentin Tarantino has disgusting taste

In what I hope is just a test of my gag reflex, IMDb is reporting that Quentin Tarantino is now dating Shar Jackson, Kevin Federline's ex and the mother of his two kids.  I accidentally saw 2 seconds of a gay porn one time (Karl from the Superficial was on his third glass of Chablis and insisted he sent the wrong file) and the bile in my throat then can only be compared to the bile in my throat now, when I just unwillingly pictured Tarantino -- who looks like he used to have bolts in his neck -- flopping around on top of Shar Jackson - who I assume sounds like a waterbed when you fuck her.

Best of luck determining the loser here, considering they're both visually disturbing.  It's the kind of couple where one day, maybe years from now, one of them turns to the other and say, "Wait, you were dared to go out with me?  I was dared to go out with you!"

Kirsten Dunst is disgusting.  Jessica Biel is not.

I don't watch Cameron Crowe movies for the same reason I don't take long lavender baths or prance around in chiffon, so needless to say I wont be in line for Elizabethtown, which inexplicably stars Kirsten Dunst.  And I say "inexplicably" because it co-stars Jessica Biel.  So Crowe could have cast unthinkable hotness like Biel in the lead, but instead cast Dunst, with her creepy baby teeth and posture that I thought went away when we cured scurvy.  The only thing admirable about her is that she cuts her hair to look like a boy, and that's only cool cause it's more honest than pretending she looks like a girl.

And none of this really matters, I just found some Jessica Biel pictures that I wanted to put up.

First look at Underworld 2

Some make-out worthy pictures of Kate Beckinsale from the sequel no one has been waiting for showed up online yesterday, and far be it for me to imply that Underworld 2 looks like a piece of crap or anything, but unless I can find a description that features the words "Kate Beckinsale" quickly followed by the words "cum soaked", I think I'll pass.

Katie Holmes is an idiot

Ever heard of a little something called W magazine?  Yeah, me neither.  But apparently Katie Holmes is on the August cover, and you'll never guess what she mindlessly prattles on about for 10 pages:

"Meeting Tom -- I'm just exhilarated," Katie told the magazine.  "He makes me laugh, we have fun, we understand each other, everything is just so aligned." Katie went on to talk religion, "I'm taking some (Scientology) courses and I really like it," she said. I feel it's really helping. What I like about it is that, I was raised Catholic, and you can be a Catholic and a Scientologist ... I'm learning to celebrate my own spirit, my own being."

I bet you were saying to yourself, "I assumed she had some thoughts on the ritual of sewing woman's birth canal shut, as practiced by the blood thirsty savages who practice that great religion of peace which is inexplicably very popular with incredibly violent criminals, like the gutless cowards in London yesterday."  And, trust me, I know, that's what I thought too, but Katie takes us in another direction, choosing instead to mumble about her comically misinformed boyfriend and a religion based on 76 million year old aliens trapped on Earth in Volcano prisons.  And I dare you to make less sense than that.  Theologically speaking, you might as well pray to the Great Pumpkin or a talking cartoon mouse.

Just once it would be charming if a celebrity wasn't completely fucking insane.

You may have noticed the banner at the top of my main page for Dane Cook's new album Retaliation, due out on the 26th.  If not, your retinas are probably boiled, because that thing is freakin' ANIMATED.

Despite that being primo ad space, I'm running it for free in my continued effort to promote the hell out of everything Dane does, which I'm doing in an attempt to get into Dane's pants and give him his first Su-Fi hand job.  Ummm... no more typing posts while I'm drunk.

Here are links to three of the tracks you'll hear on his upcoming CD/DVD, which his promotions dude sent me and said I could share with my loyal viewers.  Don't worry about getting RIAA'd, I've been given full permission to link 'em:   

Heist  |  Creepy Guy  |  Dream House  |  Pre-Order the Album |  Dane Cook Video Page

Allegedly, he'll be sending me some video content from the DVD portion of the album in the near future, so keep your eyes and foreskin peeled for even more awesomeness.

And being Friday, it's time for another beautiful rendition of Brendon's Celebrity Roundup.

Live 8 stars band together to eat lobster.

According to a report from This Is London, the onstage talent involved with the Live 8 concert were spoiled in lavish fashion when not onstage at the benefit concert to stamp out poverty and end hunger in Africa.  Wait, did I say "lavish?"  I meant to say "ironic."

"The food put out for the celebrities included lobster, caviar, doughnuts and Ben & Jerry's ice-cream."  There was also an "A-list goodie bag, said to be worth £7,000, including jewelry and computer equipment."

This is finally a type of activism I can get behind.  For example, I think prostitution is wrong, so from now on I'm just gonna kick those girls out of the car after they're done and then drive off without paying.  Because I care so much.

And we could all learn from Madonna's example during her profanity laced on-stage tirade.  Apparently the secret to persuasion is to scream and curse until people realize that I'm right, so I went by a local bikini car wash being held by some high school cheerleaders and told them all to "fuckin' blow me", because I think it's wrong that they would stoop to such tawdry tricks.  And also because I felt they should blow me.

I then pointed to my penis, in case they were also African, but, sadly, those girls don't seem to have learned anything from Live 8.

Oh, another valuable lesson Madonna teaches us is to wear eleventy million dollars worth of diamonds while onstage at benefit concerts.  Especially if the concert is for Africa.  Cause then all the Africans will see the diamonds from their mines and be really flattered that you like their stuff.

And then they'll eat some dirt and die of hepatitis.  And, really, isn't that what it's all about?

Britney to get baby tattoo.

From Female First UK:  "Britney Spears wants to get a tattoo of her child's name after she gives birth.  The pregnant pop babe, who is expecting her first child with husband Kevin Federline in October, told viewers . that she wants the inscription done to commemorate becoming a mother.  She said: 'I like the idea of the moment being captured forever'."

You know that saying, "If you love someone, set them free.  And if they come back to you, it was meant to be."  Well, if you ever work at a camp for retarded kids - like I have - and they offer horseback riding, keep an eye on any of the camp romances, cause one of the girls may be testing that theory, and no matter how much spunky can-do spirit the dude has, if you just let him go and wait to see if it their romance was meant to be, he will die.  I assure you, he will die.  Bee stings probably.  Just a guess.

Which somehow brings me to Britney Spears, and her littl'n on the way who would have a better chance being raised by a Kodiak bear, because it seems obvious by now that Britney has no idea where babies come from or how they work.  I would ask Kevin to explain, but I'm pretty sure his response would be some version of, "Yeah, I threw a baby up on in her."  Except less eloquent.  Britney does know that the baby goes home with her, right?  So you don't need a memento of the baby, cause the memento is the baby.  Christ, I hope one of the nurses speaks 'hillbilly dumbass' or whatever language she talks in and can explain that "bun in the oven" is just an expression before Britney tries to eat the god damn thing.

Angelina Jolie adopts again.

From People Online: "Angelina Jolie is adopting her second child, a newborn Ethiopian baby orphaned by AIDS. "Her name is Zahara," Jolie tells PEOPLE exclusively. Arrangements for the adoption are expected to be completed Wednesday."

So Angelina now has an African baby and a Cambodian baby.  And somewhere, an Eskimo, a squaw and an albino baby wish they had worn a different jumper that day.  Maybe the Eskimo should have had a little harpoon.  And one of those fur lined hooded coats.  And the squaw could have worn little moccasins and presented new Mommy with a ear of corn.  What they call maize.  And the albino could have had... ummm... sunscreen.  And a big giant hat.  Like a tiny Truman Capote.  Or something.

Maybe it's just my awesome level of racism, maybe its just cause I'm kind of a dick, but that kind of rainbow family annoys me a little.  If I had my choice between watching uplifting families that have a lesson to teach me or watching two old gay guys 69 each other, I would at least wanna know how if the gay guys were in one of those really nice houses in the hills, cause it would kind of drag me down to know that a couple of old queens had a nicer house than me.

Want to hear some of the funniest jokes reeled off by Dane Cook at the show I attended on Sunday night at The House of Blues in Las Vegas?  So do I.  Unfortunately, I wasn't around long enough to see Dane take the stage because management at The House of Blues decided to take a break from burning American flags and returning Osama Bin Laden's phone calls to wipe their unpatriotic asses with The Bill of Rights.

In fact, I'm so pissed off, I don't even feel like telling the entire story.  So I'll just link to my friend Mark's extended version, and give you the gist of it:  Mark and I got plastered before the show and got kicked out before Dane even came on, because we were being "too boisterous" (AKA booing and yelling "NOT FUNNY!" when the unknown comedian that took the stage between Dave and Dane completely flopped).  Now, if I'd been kicked out simply for being a drunken moron and ruining the experience for fellow paying customers, that would be one thing.  But here's the part that gets to me:  The manager tried to use the old "How would you like it if he came to your workplace and started booing and yelling at you?" line.

Actually, I'd like that a lot, as long as you can create a scenario in which that comparison actually becomes as accurate as your ignorant ass thinks it is.  That "comedian coming to your work and booing you" logic (or severe lack thereof) is something I've always taken issue with.  Even though there was a hilarious Seinfeld episode based around it (script), the reasoning contains one gigantic fundamental flaw that I'm surprised the supremely analytical minds of Jerry Seinfeld and Larry David overlooked.  (Although I'm assuming they did so for hilarity's sake):

It's not like I just waltzed into this guy's place of work and started yelling.  I based an entire weekend around this show.  I wore a long sleeve shirt in 100 degree heat in order to conceal the full-blown orgasms my funny bones were bound to have.  I blew $90 on tickets, a rate the comedians, venue, agents, everyone in the audience, and I all deemed an appropriate amount to pay for a night of entertainment.  Therefore, this comedian's job was to entertain me (something Dave Attell did to perfection, earning him massive outbreaks of laughter and zero heckling).  When he didn't, I had the right to bitch at him.  Just like the bosses who write the checks for every working stiff in the world have the right to lay into them when they aren't getting the job done.

You'd boo a major league baseball player -- whose $10 million salary you're indirectly paying by attending the game -- if he dropped a routine fly ball, but you wouldn't boo a little leaguer for doing the same.  Correct?  That's because there's a distinct line where "he's doing his best" no longer becomes good enough, and that line is always drawn by the consumer.

You want to come to my office and boo me for a few hours, at a rate of $90 per session?  I'm completely open to that idea.  In fact, if you can get a few thousand people to do the same, I'd be happy to rent a comfortable venue for this event to take place in.  Shall we make it a catered affair?  I'll gladly serve hors d'oeuvres for $90 a head, and while we're at it, I'd probably offer to stick around and wipe everyone's ass as they pinched those same hors d'oeuvres out a few hours later.  But what I wouldn't do is restrict anyone from expressing their opinion if the food sucked balls or they didn't approve of my front-to-back tissue technique.

What a Fourth of July weekend!  I can't think of any way I'd rather celebrate America's independence than having my right to free speech stripped by The House of Blues.

Crash This Trailer.  Yesterday it was brought to my attention what a brilliant campaign they have going over at the official site for the new Owen Wilson/Jesus Vaughn/God Walken flick.

All you have to do is go to the Crash This Trailer portion of the Wedding Crashers site, submit your name and a picture of your face, then pick out a character in the movie... and the feature puts you in the trailer for the film.  Granted, comparing the clarity of the actual trailer and your personalized version is like going from LucasFilm special effects to a Don Hertzfeldt animation, but it's a cool feature nonetheless.  Plus, it gave me a chance to get into Vince Vaughn's pants.

The dude who informed me of the link, blogstar Ryan McGee, took things a step further on his site and, inspired by our short conversation about how someone needs to develop a similar deal for feature length porn films, wrote an entry outlining which movies he'd like to "crash".  I almost did the same... but then I remembered I'd only watched a season-and-a-half of Curb Your Enthusiasm on DVD today.  Realizing I had to finish that second season before I'd feel like I accomplished anything today, I headed straight towards the most ambitious cushion on my couch.  I'm motivated.  And driven.

Later, I started two "Wedding Crashers"-inspired threads on my message boards:

Photoshop Contest: Crash Any Movie.  If you've ever been to my forums, you know how these contests always turn out (and this one is no different):  an MS Paint war develops within the first couple posts after users decide it would be much more entertaining to ditch all semblance of organization and creativity, and instead draw pixilated images of other forum members raping giant squirrels.  If I may quote Bill Simmons, "Yep, these are my readers."

If You Could Crash Any Movie...  No art skills required for this one.  Just spill the beans on which movie character you'd most love to take the place of in any film.  Maybe you want to have the power and swagger of a certain character, or to witness an event of historical significance as they did, or have sex with a beautiful man/woman that they did, or even use the opportunity to do something differently than them when put in their shoes...

Another Las Vegas trip.  Today I'm heading to Las Vegas for 4th of July weekend.  This will be my third trip in two weeks.  I have to admit... I'm hooked.  Luckily, I have the self restraint to hang out in Sin City without getting into trouble.  Of course, that's assuming I can once again get away with ridiculous drunken antics such as throwing a wine glass across the lobby at the Bellagio and humping trees along the strip (see photo).  (Overrated: casino security.  Underrated: alcohol content in free beverages.)  But the way I look at it: at least I have yet to gamble my life away or stuff any dead hookers into my hotel mattress.

This time I'll be in town for more relaxation than craziness.  On the docket:  a Weezer/Chili Peppers concert on Saturday in honor of Vegas' 100th birthday, another Rehab Party on Sunday at Hard Rock (there's a picture of me somewhere in that gallery), a Dane Cook show that night, and at some point I'll be meeting up with a couple of fellow webmasters:  Mark from DarkMounty.net (who's actually a friend from back home), and the beautiful Shannon Stewart (the model, not the baseball player), whose apparently a daily GorillaMask reader (and wrote an e-mail last week to tell me after I linked one of her galleries).  Check out her site if you have a chance.  You'll need to register an account to access the good (read: naked) stuff.

Saturday Night with Tucker Max.  I should have known that mentioning Tucker and I had plans to hang out last weekend would result in 417 e-mails/IMs/phone calls asking me for details.  So for the gossip queens out there, here are a few tidbits from Saturday night:

- Very cool guy.  We spent a good majority of the night just shooting the shit regarding business, families, web nonsense, and of course... tales of drunken and sexual debauchery.

- The original plan was for each of us to invite several ladies to hang out for the night (without telling them about each other) and let hilarity ensue.  But he ended up getting in around 2 AM, so the plans were somewhat thwarted.  I say "somewhat" because we still ended up getting eight girls into the suite I booked before the sun came up, in increments of two, four, and two.  What happened during those visits, I'll leave up to your imagination.  Or maybe you'll read about it in a book some day.

- He would have arrived earlier had it not been for some shoddy directions from a lady friend of mine, which landed him on the complete opposite side of Phoenix.  That experience led to probably the most "Tucker Max" moment of the night: a profanity laced tirade aimed in her direction upon first entering the hotel room.  Let's just say the phrase "fucking Meriwether Lewis over here" was used several times before any sort of formal greeting. 

- The #1 question people have sprung on me since this weekend: "Is he full of shit, or what?"  I'll even admit, I had my doubts.  But after hanging out with him for just one night, I have no problem giving Tucker a ringing endorsement as the real deal.  Two reasons:

1.  A few days before coming down, he posted on his blog that his travel schedule would include a stop in Phoenix, also mentioning that any ladies that wanted to hang out were welcome to e-mail him.  Without expecting much, I told him he could have any local girls that contacted him give me a call for directions and what not.  I shit you not, within the first minute my phone rang twice.  Anyone who can attract pussy by posting a single sentence online is going to end up with some stories.  Some very good ones.

2.  Do you know anyone who requires video consent from women before allowing them to have sex with him?  Do you know anyone who keeps an archived library of the recent videos in his phone?  After Saturday night, I can say that I do.  A guy with video proof of every women he's been with doesn't need to make stuff up.  (By the way, those videos were more entertaining than anything I've seen on television in the last five years.)

Gigi from Las Vegas.  I met a pretty interesting (read: hot) girl named Gigi in Vegas last week.  As it turns out, she's one of 100 semi-finalists in Maxim's 2005 Hometown Hotties contest.  They're in the process of whittling those 100 down to 10 finalists via an online poll, so if you get a chance, take a second to vote for her.  (Sixth row down, second girl on the left).

Why do I care?  Let's just say that me earning the title of "Oil and Towel Boy" at her photo shoot next weekend relies heavily on whether or not I can come through on my guarantee that she'll make it into the top ten.  In other words: don't fucking let me down, assholes.  (And yes, this same link will appear in a future Web Finds entry... but would voting twice kill you?)

Stella.  All day I was trying to think of a creative, accurate tagline to describe this show, but I'm self-centered so all I could think of was an elongated tagline for myself, inspired by Stella: "If you're a fan of The State, and a fan of Michael Ian Black, and a fan of other shows on Comedy Central created by members of The State such as Reno 911, and you still fucking hated the first of episode of Stella... you're the same as me!"

I didn't laugh once.  In fact, I will go so far as to say it was really fucking stupid.  And don't tell me I "don't understand the humor" or I "didn't give it a chance" - like I said before, I'm into their stuff... I really wanted it to be funny.  Just like I wanted "Anchor Man" to be funny, which is the only viewing experience I can think of that compared to watching the first episode of Stella.  (By the way, here comes a totally uncalled for tangent...)

I'm a huge Will Ferrell fan, but unlike every single one of my friends, I could barely sit through "Anchor Man."  Everything about it felt forced, every joke was hit-or-miss, the misses were far more abundant than the hits, and not that I'm a big fan of movies with prepared scripts, but the entire film was dependent upon Ferrell working with... absolutely nothing.  ("Okay, Will, in this scene you want to get on Christina's character.  See what you can do with that.  Action!").  That film was a sinking ship from the beginning, and if you ask me, Ferrell unfairly came across as more anchor than man.

Episode one of Stella was similar to "Anchor Man" in that watching it was like having your favorite dentist forget the Novocain before pulling all of your teeth.  I went into it without hesitation, sat through the entire thing trusting that these guys knew what the hell they were doing... but despite my optimism and full-out hope that things would eventually improve... Jesus Christ it still ended up being one long, painful experience.

The difference between the two, is while both were agonizing to sit through, at least "Anchor Man" had a few one liners to take from the experience.  Stella left me with nothing.  Choosing between a second viewing of either Stella or "Anchor Man" would be like trying to decide if I'd rather be kicked in the balls for 30 straight minutes... or be kicked in the balls for 90 straight minutes and receive a lollipop at the end.

Here's to hoping episode two is 10,000% better.  I know they're capable of it  By the way, if you missed the first one and your bastard ass doesn't feel like taking my word for how shittily lame it was, you can download it here.