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Paparazzi Buried With Anna Nicole SmithMarch 5, 2007 |
Nassau, Bahamas Junior Bacon A slightly more lively Anna Nicole Smith in the days before her demise, followed by her disciples and their primitive image-capturing devices.
"I’ve got a feeling this story is only going to get bigger after this," said photographer Ray Snable, still clicking away on his camera with fresh photos of the body as pallbearers nailed a large ...
merica’s trailer park inhabitants mourned between talk shows and soap operas Saturday as the world’s public-access Marilyn Monroe was buried in the Bahamas. The modest celebrity and super-tabloid magnet was finally laid to rest after a month of court battles and life-draining media coverage following her February 8 death from over-exposure. Laid next to her son following his September 2006 death from a drug overdose, Smith’s burial was most notable for a judge’s order that allowed several members of the tabloid media and freelance photographers to be interred with the body.
"I’ve got a feeling this story is only going to get bigger after this," said photographer Ray Snable, still clicking away on his camera with fresh photos of the body as pallbearers nailed a large lid on the 125-man coffin containing the deceased starlet and her new entourage.
"The unusual burial situation came about from an order handed down by vaudeville’s own Judge Larry Seidlin when he released the Smith body and its bosom baggage for a burial in the sunny Bahamas. Judge Seidlin decreed that "America has a vested interest in following the continuing drama of the Anna Nicole Smith story."
"Now more than ever," said Broadway Seidlin, "as the country faces one tumor of dull-ass presidential election coverage and weak competition on American Idol, the people want and need the security of a sassy, beautiful corpse of no particular claim to fame and her everyday trials. Reruns are simply not enough."
The court ruling allowed 124 members of the medias, including freelance photographers, to join the Smith remains in their underground adventure with a specified promise of keeping the public up to date on how the story continued to unfold. Will Smith learn to cope with the loss of her son? Will she tell the real identity of her baby’s father? Will she continue to live the sedentary lifestyle all of America witnessed on her too-short-lived The Anna Nicole Show? Judge Seidlin promised just because the body ceased to breathe it doesn’t mean Americans will stop caring about the drama.
After burial of the notably large coffin, the muffled screams of the more timid members of the burial coverage crew were drowned out by the sobbing of people who felt a bizarre kinship with the former Playboy playmate and grave-robbing skeleton widow, as well as the appropriately vacant song stylings of country music superstar Joe Nichols. Slash, of the band Guns ’N’ Roses, was also in attendance, because what else could he have been expected to be doing.
Despite objections from some human rights advocates, Entertainment Tonight segment producer Lynn Hoddbody argued those reporters and photographers buried alive with the corpse of the peroxide blonde model were the lucky ones.
"This is probably the single most important media event of the century, and I can say without fear of contradiction Anna Nicole Smith will be the most tragic figure in history," Hoddbody said. "Who wouldn’t gladly sacrifice themselves to be there when O.J. Simpson slashed the shit out of his wife and that guy, to witness that world-shaking event in progress and have a slim chance of telling us just what happened? In this case, we can all truly say we should envy the dead."
Which begs the question—first O.J., now Anna Nicole: Is there a curse on all the stars of The Naked Gun 33 1/3: The Final Insult? Will George Kennedy survive? the commune news would have bet dollars to donuts Carmen Electra’s wild Dennis Rodman-marrying ways would have laid her low long before Anna Nicole Smith. Mordecai "Three-Finger" Brown has been cashing in all his ghost junk bonds for a phantom fortune, hoping to woo the newly dead Anna Nicole spirit away from that nutso Howard Hughes.
 |  February 5, 2007 |
Augusta, GA Assad the Unseen Christ-friendly rocker Grant, seen here on a day other than the Day Without her, during which we can only assume she went into hiding.
"Amy didn’t play any concerts, and none of us played any Amy Grant in our homes, in our cars, or even on our personal Walkman devices," explained Darlene McCullogh, an Amy Grant fan and apparently the last human being on earth still using a Walkman.
As an additional part of the demonstration, nobody watched Amy Grant’s NBC show "Three Wishes" in reruns on Monday. Nobody had watched the previous Monday either, though sources were unclear if this was a coincidence or a ...
ondering why your life was thrown into total disarray last Monday? Wonder no more, because you’ve been hit by a "Day Without Amy Grant," an attempt by dedicated Amy Grant fans nationwide to show an ungrateful world what life would really be like without Amy Grant’s upbeat Christian-Pop music.
"Amy didn’t play any concerts, and none of us played any Amy Grant in our homes, in our cars, or even on our personal Walkman devices," explained Darlene McCullogh, an Amy Grant fan and apparently the last human being on earth still using a Walkman.
As an additional part of the demonstration, nobody watched Amy Grant’s NBC show "Three Wishes" in reruns on Monday. Nobody had watched the previous Monday either, though sources were unclear if this was a coincidence or a mix-up over when exactly the "Day Without Amy Grant" was scheduled. Network executives point out this may have been the problem with the show’s ratings dating back to its 2005 debut.
Grant originally came to fame as a teenager in the 1970’s, drawing attention to the then-tiny "inspirational" genre of gospel music by white people, for white people. Grant’s success would bring gospel music to a whiter audience, though this fact was often misheard as "a wider audience" when reported in the music press.
Grant’s crossover success in the 80’s and 90’s came largely from her skill at writing Christian Contemporary music that only Christians realized was Christian Contemporary, with lyrics vague enough to be mistaken for normal vacuous pop by heathen audiences. Likewise, Grant’s videos and concerts mimicked popular non-saved artists of the day, allowing her to sell more than fifteen albums at a time, unlike her CCM contemporaries like Bible Bill Steadfast and The Christian Biscuits.
A mainstay in the Grammy’s "Best Gospel Performance, White or Asian" category throughout the 80’s and 90’s, Grant was frequently rewarded by an organization too busy to find other performers to nominate in the category.
But it was the 1991 hit "Baby Baby" that made Grant a household name and answer to the question "Who wrote that fucking song they keep playing down at the Frogurt stand?"
Last Monday’s demonstration served as further proof of the power of the public to draw attention to underappreciated issues by not doing something. Following hot on the heels of the equally-successful "Day Without Fussy Gay Neighbors" and the "Day Without Fat Chicks," some pundits fear the trend may lead to days without other unheralded items, like seatbelts or underarm deodorant. Many of the same pundits, however, confided to us privately that they liked the "Day Without Fat Chicks" alright, but don’t tell anyone they said that because it’s a real dick thing to say. the commune news supports any day without Amy Grant and furthermore suggests that this become a yearly event, if not daily. Boner Cunningham is the commune’s most heavily-pimpled reporter, a fact that has led to more than one drunken office party ending with commune employees lining up to make Boner Cunningham portraits by drawing a nose on Rok Finger’s naked ass.
|  Border Patrol Agents Recruited for Iraq, Since Border Patrol Worked So Well  Pope Swears God Will Punish Drug Dealers With Poor-Quality Shit  Isaac Hayes Recognized on Bad Mother's Day  Vintage Dell to Grace Smithsonian's New What the Fuck Were We Thinking? Wing |
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 April 23, 2007 Famous Like AmosLike every other American Idol fan, I was sorry to see Sanjaya Malakar go from the blockbuster TV talent show last week. I have to believe anybody with that many A's in his name is destined to be a star, so if it doesn't happen here and now, it'll happen some other time, some other place. Maybe in Bollywood. Mad props to Sanjaya for keeping it going as long as he did. All of us brothers with more looks than talent know what it's like to coast on pre-teen chick love.
I'm not a big Simon Cowell fan anyway. Simon and me go way back. I blew away the competition on American Idol back in the second season auditions, but Simon managed to rig everything against me. I didn't even make it to the show because the prick made some argument about the video from the security cam...
º Last Column: Grand Canyon
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Like every other American Idol fan, I was sorry to see Sanjaya Malakar go from the blockbuster TV talent show last week. I have to believe anybody with that many A's in his name is destined to be a star, so if it doesn't happen here and now, it'll happen some other time, some other place. Maybe in Bollywood. Mad props to Sanjaya for keeping it going as long as he did. All of us brothers with more looks than talent know what it's like to coast on pre-teen chick love. I'm not a big Simon Cowell fan anyway. Simon and me go way back. I blew away the competition on American Idol back in the second season auditions, but Simon managed to rig everything against me. I didn't even make it to the show because the prick made some argument about the video from the security camera not being "network quality." I did a cover so ass-blasting amazing of "Hot Blooded" that Foreigner took out a court order that forbid me from ever singing it again, 'cause it made them look like chumps. Simon kept me out of the contest by voting against me, because he was the only judge. I don't know where Paula and Randy were, I guess they were probably in their hotel rooms. Security wasn't understanding enough to let me climb up on their balconies and audition for them, 'cause that dick Simon had me thrown out. I've been destined to be huge star since I was conceived, and I'm not just talking about the porn industry. I'm talking a cross-media star of unstoppable magnetism and Q-rating power, like Jamie Foxx. You remember him, he was famous a couple of years ago. But mine is the kind of fame that is like a big cosmic secret that only I know about—right now. Soon it's going to be busting out of every galactic orifice there is. Guys will go to see my movie because I'll be running around shirtless in it, shooting terrorists, and girls will snuggle me under their arms on the way to school on the cover of their Trapper Keepers. I'll be shirtless there, too. I'm assuming that anti-shirtless Alamo Cruise legislation will be overturned by then. When I'm super-famous, I'll have to dress the part, and I'm already way ahead on that front. I have an extensive collection of baseball caps and sunglasses. Some I bought even before I did my American Idol audition, just because I liked them. Like my "Mega-Ninja" hat, or the one that says "Hard Cock Inspector"—imagine being a lady and seeing that coming at you. You know it's a police detective and he's got an extra-hard cock for you. But they probably don't let you wear something like that in Scotland Yard because they make you were those stupid Sherlock Holmes hats, but I think Scotland sucks anyway and don't want to go there when I'm famous. If I get into a fight with the Pavarottis, too, I'll know how to handle myself. A lot of celebrities like to kick Pavarotti ass because they want to keep their pictures from being taken, but I don't care about that. I just want to kick a lot of ass to show I'm from the streets. But after I kick all the Pavarotti ass, I'll let them take pictures of me. I'll even sign their tits, if they want me to. If they aren't girls, I suppose I'll have to sign something else, but that's going to cost them. Shit. Why didn't Simon just let me go on the show and let the fans choose me? This "getting famous without really doing anything" would have been so much easier. Maybe I can change my name to Alamo Hilton. º Last Column: Grand Canyonº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I did not get my head blown off by a gorilla fluent in sign language and wielding a shotgun. He was only a man in a gorilla suit, and the weapon a mere .38 handgun. I just wanted to sound important.”
-Mack TwainFortune 500 CookieIt's about time you learned to play bass. The bad fish you had last weekend will finally cause food poisoning sometime in the next week. With great power comes great responsibility, and sometimes, executive bathroom privileges. Lucky numbers 86, 75, 30, and 9.
Try again later.Top Revelations of 9/11 Investigation| 1. | "World Trade Center" actually two buildings | | 2. | Apparently some people don't like the U.S. | | 3. | Bush fled Air Force One in private jet shuttle, "Baby Bush" | | 4. | Possibility tragic incident could have been prevented | | 5. | Colin Powell really nice | |
|   2006: We Hardly Knew Ye BY roland mcshyster 4/2/2007 Buenos Greetos, America! Do you know what time it is? No, I’m serious, somebody replaced my wall clock with half a live chicken and I have no idea what time it is. Come to think of it, I hope to hell that’s a whole live chicken with only the front half sticking out of the wall, because it’s going to freak me out all to hell if it turns out half a chicken is somehow staying alive on my wall. And have you ever had a clock you had to feed? I don’t recommend it. Anyway, forget that I asked, now that I think about it, by the time any of you read this and get back to me, it’ll be an entirely different time and I probably won’t even care then. Let’s just compromise and say it’s Entertainment Police time. Deal? Sweet.
Blades of Glory
Anyone want to...
Buenos Greetos, America! Do you know what time it is? No, I’m serious, somebody replaced my wall clock with half a live chicken and I have no idea what time it is. Come to think of it, I hope to hell that’s a whole live chicken with only the front half sticking out of the wall, because it’s going to freak me out all to hell if it turns out half a chicken is somehow staying alive on my wall. And have you ever had a clock you had to feed? I don’t recommend it. Anyway, forget that I asked, now that I think about it, by the time any of you read this and get back to me, it’ll be an entirely different time and I probably won’t even care then. Let’s just compromise and say it’s Entertainment Police time. Deal? Sweet.
Blades of Glory
Anyone want to write in and offer up a plausible explanation why it took the Hollywood bigwigs this long to finally bring a cinematic retelling of the amazing life of actor Ruben Blades to the big screen? The only rationale I can come up with involves a labyrinthine international conspiracy that would make Oliver Stone barf out his ass. But whatever the reason for the delay, the long wait was clearly worth it when you see the life of the genius behind Predator 2 and Disorganized Crime eat up the screen like it was a giant slice of bubble tape. If Hollywood makes a better biopic this year, well, good for them.
Honey, I Think I Love My Wife
Finally, Rick Moranis gets over his illogical fear of blackface and steps gracefully into the role he was born to play in American public life: The white guy who’s a really funny black guy in blackface. It seems like for years actors have been going the other way, Eddie Murphy hitting the makeup truck hard and playing the entire white cast on Entourage, and Martin Lawrence splashing on the whiteface to play a soulful white retard in Rain Man. Since when do only black men have a license to make us laugh by pretending to be a race they’re not? I want to see Chinese guys dressed up like they’re Australian and Cubans who can do a hilarious Samoan. Get on it, Hollywood.
Peter Pan’s Labyrinth
One of the most painful experiences from my childhood that still sticks with me today was seeing Disney’s Michael Jackson biopic Peter Pan in the theater and coming to realize, a sickly feeling rising up from my stomach as each minute passed, that they were going to leave out the part at the end of the book where Pan goes shithouse and chases the lost boys through the hedge maze with an axe. Why? It’s a painful lesson for a child to learn, about the compromises and cowardice of the adult world. Well, apparently I wasn’t the only one who felt this way, as brooding Spaniard Benecio Del Taco was scarred enough to wait until he grew up to set the record straight with this harrowing remake, true to the source material down to the last comma. Trust me, I counted. One word of warning for parents, however: You must bring your children to this film. I don’t care if you have to pull them out of school, permanently, you owe it to your children to tell them the story of Peter Pan, the whole story, the way it was meant to be told. All else pales in importance.
Rocky Balboa
Few thought soulful beefcake Sylvester Stallone would dare make yet another Rocky sequel after earning a lifetime of love and adulation from lingerie-clad weirdos for his genre-bending penultimate effort, The Rocky Horror Picture Show. But just like in the movie, Cobra doesn’t know when to quit, so he keeps churning these things out like an Amish dude who won’t accept that the town already has way more butter than it can use. But is it any good? If you’ve got a thing for watching old guys get beat up, but couldn’t score tickets to the latest Evander Hoylfield fight, then yeah, this one will probably scratch that itch. Fans of recognizable cinematic values would probably be better off hopping from theater to theater, watching the Coke commercials before all the main features instead. All in all the quality of the movie hardly matters, since lingerie-clad true believers will be driving midnight showings of this thing for decades to come regardless.
Well, America, I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got time for this week. I’m not actually afraid, I mean, I won’t be sleeping with the bathroom light on tonight or anything. Actually that’s a pretty bizarre figure of speech when you really think about it. Weird. Anyway, join us again next time so as not to be left outside in the cold dark void of the unknowing. Until then, I’m Roland McShyster and you’re some other person out there.   |
