Whether or not evil Scientologists have conspired to purchase the former "Bermuda Triangle of Buggery" known as Neverland Ranch, with peculiar notions of transforming the place into their very own vacation retreat, is really beside the point. What I want to know is why no secret sex tape featuring Michael Jackson has ever been discovered and "accidentally" unleashed upon the poor defenseless world, like what happened to Britney and Paris and the Limp Bizkit Guy and Kid Rock and that Creed hippie and everybody fucking else, as it would certainly clear up a thing or two once and for all, I think. Also, it sure would be cool to see Tom Cruise ride a llama. That's all I'm saying.
Or am I?
"Dear Adrian: Your instincts weren't wrong; Jessica Simpson is still a come dump. She didn't snub George W. Bush because she has an ounce of sense, but because her publicist couldn't work out the particulars. I'm sure she would be only too happy to bend over for the GOP." —Alena A.
Dear Alena A.: I dwell in a beautiful universe where there is no Jessica Simpson, nor Bushes of any sort. Disabuse me of this illusion at your own peril. —Adrian
Elsewhere: Charlie Sheen is smarter than anyone realized. Alone and unafraid, he, the Lone Crusader, has blurted out what we've all been thinking: that the whole September 11 thing smacks of a dark and really creepy Illuminati-esque conspiracy, most probably involving our own shady government. "It is up to us to reveal the truth," he recently said, calling paranoids everywhere to action. The entire Sheen clan is expected to be decomposing in a barrel of toxic waste somewhere in Nevada by the end of this sentence, and I never wrote any of this shit and you never read it, if "anyone" ever asks. (Got it, fucker?) And I'm straight as Jackie Chan's pubic bush, and have never secretly renounced the Lord God and all His works. Amen.
"Adrian, doll, I'm writing for Seattle magazine and I need to know where's the best place to spot celebrities from Grey's Anatomy! Call! CALL! CALL!" —Tamara Paris
"Hi, Tam-Tam! Seattle magazine?! Cool! What's Grey's Anatomy? What's Seattle magazine? YOU call!" —Adrian
In eviler conspiracies: Yoko Ono just filmed a pay-per-view séance to summon the hairy shade of poor old John Lennon, brought to you by the producers responsible for calling up the tortured ghost of Princess Diana, proving twice that dead people are cooler than Yoko Ono. And Lennon and Di were murdered by the Scientologists and the Bush Illuminati too, probably. But you didn't hear that shit from me. Fucker.
