I am very rarely so gauche as to be wrong about anything—especially when it comes to célébrité. And yet when the vapid come-dump known mostly as Jessica Simpson absolutely refused to meet, speak to, or have anything whatsoever to do with the vapid come-dump known mostly as George W. Bush when he recently tried to attach his name to some weird charity that she is involved with—attempting to glean a smattering of desperately needed good PR for his continuing campaign of world destruction, no doubt—even I was given pause. If that makes any sense at all. Which it doesn't.
Yay Jessica Simpson!
Shut up. Stop looking at me like that.
In almost related news: Original Dukes of Hazzard star and former Seattle resident Tom Wopat was recently arrested for allegedly drunk driving somewhere in New Jersey or something, and the only reason that's interesting is that he hung out in the sauna of the creepy downtown YMCA when he was still actually living here, and I'm really not making that shit up—I saw him there a few times. Honestly. (I'm really NOT kidding!) And it's better than average, if you were wondering. And you WERE.
Then, suddenly, and with very little warning: Possibly paranoid European travel guru Rick Steves and his haircut stopped backpacking through Budapest or whatever just long enough to regale the tittering stoners at University of Washington's Kane Hall about the evils of the so-called U.S. war on marijuana, for which we all thank him... we thank him so very, very much. Donations to the Foundation for Getting Rick Steves a New Haircut can be made out to Adrian, c/o The Stranger. Thank you.
In a paranoia even more horrible: You may cease to be alarmed. Indeed, it gives my parts great joy to assure the world that Will Ferrell is not quite nearly so dead as some recent and very strange rumors might indicate. The story of his tragic and twisted demise in a freak paragliding crash was all merely a horrible internet hoax, for he is in reality safe and sound and giving me my usual morning blowjob as I sit here typing now. I have a great big floppy sausage dick and cry when I come. Just for the record.
In this week's new celebrity sex-tape releases: I've heard whispers of a good new Kevin Federline/often-pregnant Britney Spears offering, and if any of my dear readers are able to provide me with any clues and/or where I might obtain a copy or otherwise see it, I'll kick them in the nuts and run the opposite direction. Thank you.