July 6, 2008

Diary Of A Douchebag

Holy shitski, the divorce trial of Christie Brinkley and douchebag husband, Peter Cook, started last week. Fantastic!!! Among the things that Cook was forced to admit in open court was that he paid his mistress, Diana Bianchi, above photo, over $300,000 to keep quiet about the affair. If you're new to the drama, check out the background here. It has been exactly 2 years since Brinkley filed for divorce from Captain Douchebag. Among other things he confessed on the stand, he masturbated in front of his webcam on a swingers' site and sent threatening emails to Bianchi to make sure she didn't spill the beans. It was Bianchi's stepfather, (a police officer in the Hamptons) that told Christie of the affair. Certainly Peter Cook never imagined his last name would prove to be his destiny.

The Kids From The Block

We wonder what The Kids on the Block are trying to resurrect with their new music video. Whatever it is, they missed the appropriate window for "sexiness." First, they were a bunch of mildly homo-erotic kids clearly too young to be sex icons. Now, they look like a bunch of creepy older men hanging out with younger women and singing songs that recapture their idyllic homo-erotic youth.
As the female perspective on this subject (Princess Nobody) we declare Baron Bubba to be wildly off. But what would you expect from a straight 20-something male? Regardless, we kind of dig the video for "Summertime" and it reminds us of our freshman year roommate, Liz Liddell, and her love for the New Kids. Yes, Liz was from Boston.

Recycling Music....Al Gore Would Be Proud

So Kid Rock released a "new" music video. While it lacks the musical energy or inspiration to excite the purists among us, the singer(?)-songwriter(?) must have targeted the niche of people who like a little scandal with their rubber-stamp-bubble-gum-pop......

OK...let's grant him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he included words, music, and background vocals from "Sweet Home Alabama" as an homage- not as a desperate attempt to provide some soul to a song as devoid of life as the corporate boardroom in which it was probably written. (We would question the wisdom of paying homage to a song whose lyrics contain thinly-veiled old-school states-rights, segregationist lyrics, but that involves a variety of different debates for a different day; We are not in the business of analyzing Lynyrd Skynyrd songs.)

Even still: Didn't anybody on the song assembly line notice the striking resemblence of the piano part to "Werewolves of London?" Didn't Vanilla Ice get torn apart for doing the same thing? Maybe we should stop villifying Robert van Winkle and give him the respect he deserves: as a groundbreaker who cleared the way for talentless hacks who want to substitute public persona and cheap imitation for creativity and originality.