When I say "Paul Newman," you think "salad dressing." That's just basic psychology. And if I were, on the other hand, to say something like "Joanne Woodward," you'd automatically think... well, I'm not exactly sure what the fuck you'd think, but it wouldn't be salad dressing. That's for damn sure. I'm equally confident that the Frye Art Museum, although lovely, would also not be immediately evoked by those names... or, at least, it wouldn't be UNTIL NOW. For you see, the Frye is exactly where both Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman (salad dressing! SALAD DRESSING!) are just lately rumored to have been, and where one of them did something most peculiar. The following letter explains.
"Adrian, Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward were at the Frye. They were there with local U-Dub screenwriting professor Stewart Stern. He wrote the screenplay for Rebel Without a Cause and Sybil. Paul tried to buy a $40 art book with $4 and a wooden nickel."—Cait
Indeed: If this mysterious "Cait" person is to be believed (and she is... she IS!), Paul Newman tried to pay for a $40 book with "$4 and a wooden nickel." While the one-two punch of Paul Newman AND Joanne Woodward is difficult enough to deal with in and of itself, I'm simply not prepared to face the literal or metaphoric implications of "wooden nickels." I'm sure you understand.
Sybil? I'm in a box! I'm in a box! Sybil?
Elsewhere, in a story that's so good it must be fake: Paris Hilton was jetting around in one of her superbitch warplanes. She had to take a leak (dear god! IT PEES!), and the warplane's toilet was on the fritz or her S&M sex butler wasn't thirsty or something, so she landed in some farmer's field. She then commanded her commando unit of bodyguards to commandeer the farmer's bathroom, and they tossed the aghast old coot out on his equally aghast can so the princess could pee. Once she had piddled to her black heart's content, the relieved she-bitch replaned and took off, with nary a farmery thank you. The farmer was, quote, "not impressed."
In something definitely not fake: Star Jones and Barbara Walters shocked the world last week by announcing their lesbian love. In a recent press conference held in the pinball-machine room of the popular Manhattan power-dyke hangout Muffy's Dive and Clam Bar, a visibly twitterpated Walters said, "Fuck the world! I love Star's big juicy pussy!" The remark has baffled scientists and nonscientists alike, who agree that Star Jones's big pussy is anything but juicy.