So, Henry Rollins does the Twitter thing, and, from my very limited research, I’ve concluded that Rollins is one of the only bona fide famous types who actually do so. That is, unlike the following fakers:

David Letterman: Not so real.
Darth Vader: Not so real.
Other Famous Types: My search sort of ended at that point, so I really don’t fucking know.

Now, if you’re wondering how or why Henry Rollins takes the time to periodically spew his thoughts via some crap social networking service, well, he has high-speed wireless connectivity on his tour bus to keep himself occupied on those long stretches of midwestern nothingness. Obviously, the guy has more patience than myself, since I barely manage to half-ass those damn MySpace and Facebook sites. Fuck Twitter, and fuck Henry Rollins too! Oh, and I almost forgot my actual point to writing on this topic. What I admire most about Rollins is his stunning ability to inherently dislike just about everyone who crosses his path, whether it’s online or in the flesh:

HA HA HA HA! You tell ‘em, Henry. People suck!

Which actor has been invited to step into Tim Curry’s stockings and help ruin RHPS? (DL)

Michael Phelps: Is he hot or not? (CS)

Awwww, poor Mango: Uh, back to the Roxbury? (CB)

Shia LaBeouf actually looks kinda hot. Nah. (Ayyyy!)

60 Second Catfight on “The Hills.” Amateurs. (IBBB)

John Mayer ♥ photogs and bloggers. (Yeeeah!)

They’re Everywhere and now in wax. Gahhh! (SOMG)

Bad Tattoos In Funny Places: So many regrets. (CR)

Victoria Beckham is a role model? For anorexics! (GB)

Run, Owen Wilson, like the butterscotch wind! (POTP)

Lily Allen tosses a punch; slips a nipple. (PB)

Kate Beckinsale pulls off an orange bikini. (TB)

Big Fat Cow vs. Angelina: Talk about outta left field. (DB)

Selma Blair has no self-confidence issues whatsoever. (IDWYL)

Vicky Cristina Barcelona is owned by Penelope Cruz and Javier Bardem. Scarlett who? (Pajiba)

Guess The Movie Posters: An exercise in [font] madness. (Empire)

The big news in Beijing this weekend was Michael Phelps, who won the gold in every event he competed in and broke the record for most gold medals won by one athlete in a single Olympics. It’s an achievement that ought to pay off for the swimmer, but let’s not let this distract us from the real sports story. I’m talking about Jennifer Lopez, of course. The multi-talented something-or-other, who hasn’t had a hit record or a hit movie in years (although Gigli makes her place in film history secure), appeared yesterday on Good Morning America. Hits being rather thin on the ground just now, she had to find something to talk about, so JLo chose to announce that she’s begun training for a triathlon. All very admirable, of course, but Jennifer seems to resent Phelps for hogging the spotlight. After her segment she was overheard complaining that she “couldn’t understand why everyone was talking about that swimmer”:

She couldn’t come up with Phelps’ name, and then she yammered on about how she was the one training for a triathlon just six months after giving birth, and how that was the big story right now, not ‘the swimmer’.”

Given JLo’s rather demanding nature, it’s unlikely that any amount of attention would have satisfied her. But maybe the triathlon will give her a chance to rechannel that drive in a more healthy direction. And if she goes on to compete in other events, like marathon keeping-your-damn-mouth-shut, that would be even better.

Some crackheaded songwriter has proclaimed his intention to fully script an entire West End musical, entitled “David Beckham — The Theatre of Dreams,” which would chronicle the life and career of one particular celebrity footballer. With heroes, villains, and 100% hetero love, the musical would idealize the combination of football and celebrity “as [the] new secular Western religion,” and would use gospel-like rock music “to establish clearly football and Manchester United as a religion.” Allegedly, the stage would be a natural fit for the international footballer who now lives as a Hollywood star. For certain, however, the musical would begin with Mister Beckham reflecting on jolly old England in the 90s:

Talk about football coming home,
And then one night in Rome,
We were strong, we had grown,
And now I see Ince ready for war,
Gazza good as before,
Shearer certain to score,
And Psycho screaming.

Things would get even schmaltzier when Posh entered stage left, prompting Becks to serenade her:

A change has come around,
As I worship this ground,
With you in my life,
We’re turning the world upside down.

If all that isn’t enough, a Gary Neville sort of character is said to harmonize throughout the musical, and a number called “Mourning Blues” would feature Becks crying on his father’s shoulders as the villainous Argentinians taunt him. Poor Becks then becomes the UK scapegoat in “Villain of the Peace.” The second half of this future winner of the Laurence Olivier Awards will see Becks toughen up with a song called “So Strong,” in which he thanks United Manchester for their support:

You make me feel so strong,
Because I belong.

Becks would then takes off for Real Madrid in a flying boot, and that doesn’t even get to the Hollywood portion of the story. Somehow, I really don’t see this crap happening.

Oh, hell yes. These are some eye-catching print adverts for the newly-launched Milk Photographie of Singapore. We gotta love that striking combination of pseudo-gore mixed with the obvious visual association of a milky white substance. Is it in poor taste? Perhaps. Does it make you look twice? Of course!

Keira’s trashbag headpiece is only the beginning. (UMC)

Quite possibly the most painful blind item ever! (CS)

Bill Murray’s daring shades of Stripes. Holla. (CB)

Reese Witherspoon’s summer of abs. (Ayyyy!)

Mary Kate Olsen’s bf looks like Lohan’s gf. (IBBB)

Portia & Ellen Degeneres wedding photos. (LAR)

Jessica Alba suddenly ♥ the paparazzi. (IDWYL)

Charlie Sheen schmoozes with the DWTS guys. (SOMG)

Amy Winehouse showered & shook out the hive. (PB)

Ass Away®: Modeled & endorsed by Kristen Bell. (WIMB)

John Mayer just can’t shut his douchebag mouth. (GB)

Kim Kardashian’s ass gets with the Pussycat Dolls. (POTP)

Noel Gallagher has a fucking problem, you fucking wankers! (RR)

Isla Fisher manages to be completely unappealing with a weird swimsuit. (DR)

10 Movies Sold On Their Sex Scenes: Woody Allen didn’t exactly invent this practice. (Spout)

Okay, we’ve calmed down enough since our last Inglorious Bastards post and can now freely move about the cabin to provide updates concerning the various bastards at play. We were drawn back by the idea that this bizarre casting scenario may soon produce full playing deck of confirmed, hypothetical, accused, suspected, and rejected bastards, which will make for some nifty party tricks, ya dig? All hail Quentin Tarantino and his mad casting frenzy, as shooting for the pic begins on October 13.

Brad Pitt: Bastard. Confirmed as Aldo Raine, leader of the eight rogue American soldiers who go after Nazi scalps. Probably working on his character’s Tennessee hillbilly accent at this very moment, while Maddox and Zahara laugh uproariously.

Leonardo DiCaprio: Not a bastard. Leo’s name has been floating around for the role of SS Col. Hans Landa, but QT decided that he’d rather have a German actor than Mister Angry Chipmunk. Can’t say we blame QT on this one.

Eli Roth: Bastard. Confirmed as Sgt. Donnie Donowitz, the Bear Jew with a deadly baseball swing and a killer smile. Word on the street is that Roth has traveled to his native Boston to reacquire his character’s accent, which pretty much tells us that QT wrote the part for Roth. Awww.

Simon Pegg: Not a bastard. Previously lined up as Lt. Archie Hicox, but eventually bowed to scheduling difficulties, which are sort of not surprising since the shoot is fast approaching.

B.J. Novak: Bastard. Pretty much confirmed as PFC Utivich, a “soldier of slight build” who hails from New York. Hopefully, he’s working out at this very moment.

Adam Sandler: Not a bastard. QT offered him a role, but Sandler declined, citing scheduling conflicts as the reason. Either that or his medulla oblongata was acting up.

David Krumholtz: Not a bastard. QT offered him a role as part of Aldo Raine’s team, but scheduling conflicts. We can’t help but notice that those brows would rival those of Eli Roth.

Samm Levine: Bastard. QT effectively hired him to replace David Krunholtz in an as-yet disclosed bastard role. Oddly, we have no opinion on this one except for, again, the eyebrow thing.

Mike Myers: Bastard. Confirmed for the role of British General Ed Fenech, and, even though this is a bit part, we still think it sucks. Big time.

If you’re among those who has noticed that, after three years, Katie Holmes has gone from a vibrant and not-so-talented but cute girl to a vacant-eyed and not-so-talented middle-aged woman, you may have wondered why she’s allowed herself to be transformed in such a way. Perhaps, after learning a bit about Katie’s childhood years, we can see that she really hasn’t changed all that much:

I loved Barbie. I have about 20 dolls, the huge house, the hot dog stand, the workout centre, the pool, the Corvette and the water-slide park.

The good news is that Katie still has all these things (and a Barbie-sized husband to match!), but we’re not so sure that she recognizes the gravity of her situation:

I’m glad I could wait this long before I had to deal with reality.

No, not exactly. Anyone who accepts as non-fiction the idea that, 75 million years ago, Xenu and his posse of H-bombs blew up millions of frozen people, whose disembodied souls now parasitically dwell within unsuspecting humans, well, that’s more than just a little fucked-up.

Source: Popbitch