Free Michael, Farewell, Chris

The astonishing crack that just scared you to bits? That was my sad little heart. The terrible news of Christopher Reeve's sudden death has smashed it in half forever. (He was my very first movie-star crush, you understand. I was 3 or something and he had the sexiest ankles in the history of blue leotards, sowing the seeds of a whole bunch of personal fetishes that are absolutely none of your damn business.) Dear Mr. Reeve is barely survived by Margot Kidder, who went mostly sane and is now mostly made of plastic, and Tom Welling, who is the hottest guy fucking ever. This news is, of course, almost as sad as the sort-of recent death of John Ritter or Johnny Cash or someone like that. Everyone is deeply encouraged to cry.

"Dear Adrian, I hired a car and driver last weekend and the driver told me that she had just driven Martha Stewart around town. The drivers were warned that it was a big secret and no one was allowed to tell anyone about it. Apparently, someone told!"--J. W.

Dear J. W.: Your letter is really old, Martha is in prison (and could probably use a joint about now), and Christopher Reeve is dead! Does any of it matter anymore?

Of course it does. Extra specially now that George W. Bush is going down in stupid, stupid flames. Huh. Who'd have guessed?

Speaking of Michael Moore, who told you so: Mr. Moore has announced his intentions to release Fahrenheit 9/11 on pay-per-view before the November elections, in accordance with my earlier suggestions almost. (I said he should stream it on the Internets or something.) Also, the Michigan Republican Party has called for his arrest. I shit thee not ( www.michaelmoore.com ). Mr. Moore remains thoroughly not pretty.

McDonald's recently announced the firing of Justin Timberlake as its brainless spokesmodel to accommodate the hiring of Destiny's Child instead. "We're lovin' the chance to work with McDonald's, and know that together we'll create lots of fun and cool surprises," Beyoncé reportedly said, making me vomit and validating rumors that she's a scary brainless corporate robot who must be destroyed.

Lastly: Seann William Scott of American Pie was spotted loitering around Cafe Nola on Bainbridge Island, Francis Ford Coppola and entourage were spotted at the ever star-filled Inn at the Market, and I could use a joint about now. RIP, Superman.

adrian@adrianryan.com