I’m going to have to break my promise again. I beg your pardon. I am an Indian promiser. That’s what I am.

But it can’t be helped, it won’t be helped, I JUST have to say SOMETHING about BRITNEY freaking SPEARS!

I can’t not pay attention. And neither can you, dammit.  Stop looking at me like that.

Well, the whole affair to date has gotten so God-darned awful, I just HAVE to say something. Lucky you. And what I haveto say: It’s all like an unlikely bad soap opera. That’s what it is. It’s hard to put into words just exactly how wretched the situation is.

But allow me an attempt:  It’s Anna Nicole Smith awful. Yes, THAT awful. Okay, the story so far, as I understand it (and I understand it good and plenty), Britney’s, as it were, “mother and father”, have filed for a restraining order against her former manager, a creepy man called Sam Lutfi.

Now, I, like you, had absolutely no clue what a Sam Lutfi was, like, ten minutes ago, but I know now, dammit, and what I know is that Sam Lutfi is is a freakin’ Blackbeard in a $5,000 watch that Britney bought him. I’m telling you.   

According the restraining order, which was obtained by flying monkeys in powdered wigs (or maybe I just dreamed that part–I drink, you see), this Sam Lufti Monster was secretly drugging Britney in an insidious plot to maintain control of her mind and her forty million dollar empire.

Let that sink in for a moment.

Apparently, he dosed her with a brain-twirling concoction of prescription insomnia medication and anti-psychotic pills—he even crushed them up and slipped them into her food on the sly, like some nightmarish Disneyland witch.  

The poison effect of such a terrible potion.. given by such a terrible man for such terrible reasons…were naturally devastating on poor Britney’s fragile mind, and the reports I’m getting now claim that her doctors are fixin’ to put her in some sort of induced coma to try to heal her damaged brain!   Terrible. I’m speechless, I tell you. Do you hear me? Speechless.   And Sam? Well, damning evidence is popping up aplenty to support the terrible claims, and the restraining order was granted. On report clams that “Sam had told Britney that she was an unfit mother, a piece of trash and a whore, that she cares more about Adnan, her current boyfriend, than she cares about her kids, and that she does not deserve the kids then he said if she died, he’d piss on her grave.” Charming.  Anyhoozits, them’s the details to date. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.  

In other news: The toxicology reports on Health Ledger say that he died of too many prescription drugs, just like my grandma did. I didn’t know Heath and my grandma had so much in common. I wonder if they’ve met up there yet.

Well. That’s a maudlin thought.

Adrian Ryan

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Well, I’ve calmed down, thank you for asking, and today is a bright and fresh new day. Let us embrace it by, as I promised yesterday, not mentioning, um, Princess Crazypants.

Besides, if you don’t think anything interesting is happening in the universe of celebrite except Bri…well, That Wretched GIRL…you’re as crazazy as she is! Check it out: 

Today Paris Hilton cried. Cried! 

Pinch me Loretta, for it’s almost too funny to be real, but the dizzy biznitch BURST into TEARS and blubbered like a broken baby—Bwaaaa..wa, wa, waaaaaaaaaaaa—and frankly, it was fabulous.  And if this isn’t butterscotch scrumptious enough for you, well. There is full photographic and video evidence of the event, to commemorate it for future generations. And if THAT isn’t good enough, well, you’re sick. But there is still something better.

Just guess who made her cry? Guess!  (I command you!)

Right. 50 Cent!  50 CENT!!!

Outstanding.

Here is what happened:  50 Cent was rapping or whatever. Rap, rap rap! It was during some swanky and, as they say, “star-studded” Super Bowl pre-party thingy that was held in, for some unfathomable reason, Scottsdale, Arizona. (Is that where the Super Bowl lives? I’m clueless.) During his performance, Paris, ever the presumptuous little snatch, thought it would be a good idea to rush the stage and treat the audience to a lovely and whoreish dance. Dance, dance, dance!

Delightful!

Mr. Cent, however, never to be upstaged by a Hilton, paused mid-rhyme, halted the music, and demanded that the stupid biznitch get, and I do quote, the “[bleep]”off his “[bleeping]“ stage, thank you madam!

Indeed!

Well, Paris doesn’t like to be yelled at unless it’s for money, so she broke down like a dairy mule and wept herself a salty river to swim her humilliated ass out on. Which she promptly did. Witnesses say that she hadn’t cried that much since she went to prison, which reminded me that I had already totally forgotten that she had been to prison, that’s how damaged my attention span is. I blame television.   Wait. What? Cry cry cry, swim swim swim!  And it will all be on YouTube forever.  Thank you, Jesus.

Adrian Ryan

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Is there anything happening in the world that is not Britney Spears, Britney Spears, BRITNEY SPEARS?  

No? Well. I didn’t really think so anyway. According to a source: 

“In a heavy British accent, a ballistic Brit screamed (about her parents), “I’m so sick of all of this they can have the goddamn house and stick it up their f**king asses. Actually, no they can’t.”  

Oh dear. Oh, dear dear dear. And, then, um:  

“The judge in the hearing today has issued a restraining order against Sam Lutfi — ordering him to stay away from Britney Spears.” 

But, uh, then:  

“A Los Angeles court commissioner has placed Britney Spears and her estate under temporary conservatorship. That means her financial assets and other holdings will be managed by a conservator — the conservators are Jamie Spears and attorney Andrew Wallet.” 

And, well, then…oh screw it.  I can’t take it anymore. 

In anything else: Eva Mendez, who is an actress with very large boobs, has checked herself into rehab because she it’s the hot thing to do, and apparently she’s riddled with substance abuse issues that may or may not have anything to do with her very large boobs. Coincidentally, she is in the same rehab that totally failed Lindsay Lohan and her boobs last summer. Isn’t that nice? 

Then! It seems as if Kirsten Dunst, who I ALWAYS confuse with Claire Danes, isn’t going insane, like everybody said she was. Well, I never said she was, but apparently some other people did, and if you heard that, well darnit, it’s just not true. Not true, ya see! So stop poking her with sticks and asking her to weave baskets.  And that’s not about Britney either. So. Hooray! Just for that I hope Claire Danes never goes insane! I mean Kirsten Dunst! Whatever!  

Finally: Madonna has apparently grown a penis. “It’s bloody huge!” says an apparently British source. “It just sprung up one night, neat as you please! And there it is all big and hairy like—I can’t say I didn’t expect something like this all these years, the way she is you know, but, blimey! You should see it! And the children? Oh, they love it: how they poke it with sticks and laugh…” And yes I made that entire last thing up. But aren’t you glad it wasn’t about Britney fuckucking Spears?  Aren’t YOU??

Adrian Ryan

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Well, the big news today is that Heath Ledger is still dead.

Horrible. But I’m keeping vigil. I’ll never stop. Never.  

Stop looking at me like that. Have you never loved?  

Besides that, Britney Spears is insane. It’s totally official. She is “in for observation” (as they say), which in medical terminology means, “We’re going to charge you $750,000 dollars to tell you what you already know—you crazazy, biznitch!” (Somebody call Michael Moore! Oh…no…please don’t, he eats all the pickles.) And this is a very, well, something or other, situation, indeed.

(Adjectives fail.)  

For you see, if the so-called “observation” goes badly, well. She could be locked up against her will indefinitely. As in “for life.” And say what you will about that poor girl, that would be, as they say, the pits. And if it goes “well?” They’ll charge her double, let her out, and she’ll just keep being crazazy.

This doesn’t look like it is going to happen though, as the hospital has already classified her as GD—“greatly disabled”.  

Well. At least she’ll get the good parking spaces now.  

It’s the silver linings that keep us going.  

What I think? Thanks for asking. I think that Britney does not need expensive quacks quacking around her addled little head; what she needs is the world’s strongest coffee enema (call Starbutt’s—we need a double-tall Crapuccino, stat!”), a good slap across the face, a restraining order against all paparazzi, and three years camping in the Swiss Alps with a heard of Ethiopian orphans, survivor style. Then she needs to get a real driver’s license and another one of those little red string Kabala bracelet thingies. Straighten her right up.  Otherwise, you know. She’s just gonna die and junk. Heaven forbid.  Mark my words.  

But something very strange, here: There is a very hot actor called Justin Chambers, and he plays Dr. Alex Karev on “Grey’s Anatomy.” (I never watch.) Well…um…I don’t know how to say this, but he checked himself in to the loony bin today too, to “get some help” with some sleep and anxiety issues he has. The weird thing? He checked into the exact same psych ward as Britney. Indeed. UCLA Medical Center. And what, exactly do you make of that? Coincidence? Chance? Are they secretly screwing, or going to screw? Or is Britney so powerful a trendsetter, she has made madness the new teacup poodle?

Yes. That’s what I think.  

Speaking of people who are going to die: Amy Winehouse. Even her poor old mum said so in an interview with the BBC. “If my ickle girl don’t stop wif the drugs and the ‘eroine and all, she’ll be dead in a year, she will!” she said, and then she sold me a meatpie and a lump of coal for three farthings, ten. Then she sang, “The Rain In Spain Falls Mainly on the Plain” for ten pence more. Lovely voice. A bargain.

Poor Amy Winehouse.  

Adrian Ryan

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Oh Jesus. No. Oh, sweet Jesus, please no. They got to Bart. Are you listening to me? THEY GOT BART!!!

Bloody Alien bastards!

Observe:

“Actress Nancy Cartwright, the voice behind cartoon character Bart Simpson, has been awarded Scientology’s Patron Laureate Award after she donated $10 million to the faith in 2007. Cartwright’s gift — almost two times her annual salary from “The Simpsons” — puts her top of a list of celebrity benefactors, who have handed over their hard-earned cash to the Church of Scientology. She gave even more than Tom Cruise — who is reported to be the controversial religion’s second-in-command — who has donated $5 million in the last four years.”

She gave more to the Church of Scientology than even Tom Cruise? The force is strong with this one.

And you read that right: Bart Simpson gave 10 million dollars to the Scientologists. Because they need it. To fund all the good they do. Fighting Xenu. And the evil alien spirits that make you smoke and screw your grandmother and give you migraines. And so forth. But that’s hardly all:

“Kirstie Alley gave $5 million last year and has picked up the Diamond Meritorious Award. Fellow followers John Travolta and Kelly Preston gave $1 million each and were awarded the Gold Meritorious Award, while Priscilla Presley was handed the Patron Award for a donation of $50,000.”

Well. Whatever. We knew Kirstie Alley, John Travolta, Pricilla and that other chick were all huge freaks, so. No big surprises there, I guess.

In other space cases: Wesley Snipes is in trial for a grand and complicated tax evasion scheme. His lawyers have pleaded insanity. “Kooky, crazy and loony is not a crime,” his lawyer argued, and the jury agreed, but they sentenced him to the gas chamber anyway for being a black man, which IS illegal in Florida. And most of this story is true.

Adrian Ryan

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