Peckerwood Manor

Welcome, fellow trollops, to the latest edition of "Who's This Week's Thirstiest Ho?" Today's trio are drier than your Great Auntie's chocha, so they need all the moisture they can get.  First up, we have Justin Bieber , whom many believe is driving off a cliff in slow-motion - like Amy Winehouse  once did and Britney Spears is doing now - especially after he posted pictures on Instagram this week which featured him shedding a few tears while wearing a porkpie hat in lime green (which is completely unacceptable and makes him look like an infected peen polyp). But let's look closer. Is he shedding real tears or glycerin tears? Or rather, is he troubled or twat-ish? Disturbed or douchey? Tired or tweaky? Down in the dumps or dick-smacking dumb? Before you call out, "All of the above!" or "I'd only smack him with Diddy's dick 'cause he's used to it!"  let's consider another option. Dude is majorly parched.  But when h

Welcome, fellow trollops, to the latest edition of "Who's This Week's Thirstiest Ho?" Today's trio are drier than that mangy package of rice cakes you bought but never ate because they taste like cardboard, so they need all the moisture they can get. First up, we have Shakira, seen above wearing incense coils on her diminutive sparrow teets, because why not? The "Hips Don't Lie" singer who I am very tempted to call a one-hit wonder (but I won't because I'm eating dark chocolate covered mini-pretzels, so: happy) is known far and wide for a little "oopsie" tax evasion and genuinely messy relationships. Just recently, she's begun humping on Lucien Laviscount, that fine piece of British chocolate from "Emily In Paris" whom she featured in her new music video as a strapping, bare-chested centaur. Very subtle, Shakira! I hope she's riding that mythological horsey-hunk only 16 years younger than her till her hips fracture

Welcome, fellow trollops, to the latest edition of "Who's This Week's Thirstiest Ho?" Today's trio are drier than that busted, six-year-old sleeve of Ritz Crackers you forgot about in the back of your kitchen cabinet, so they need all the moisture they can get. Let's start with Griffin Dunne. What is a Griffin Dunne, you may ask (especially if you're under 40)? Pull up a seat, darlin', I'll tell you. Griffin is an unattractive nepo-baby producer and sometime-actor born of  Dominick Dunne, a  celebrated author and late-in-life ghey, and Ellen, Dominick's activist/wife. His sister Dominique was tragically murdered as a teenager, which drove Dominick's later work as a true-life crime writer, most notably concerning the O.J. Simpson trial. Griffin's also the nephew of writer Joan Didion, so, yeah, despite his face, which I shall charitably describe as guinea pig-like, he managed to use his connections to star in a few decent movies in the 1

Welcome, sloots, to the latest edition of "Who's This Week's Thirstiest Ho?" We've got three nearly-mummified candidates positively begging for moisture, so let's dive right in, shall we?  First up, we have Jon Stewart - giving his best "aw, shucks" look above - who must have been feeling extra-parched these past few years, since everything he did seemed to tank. There was his HBO animated series which HBO sadly dumped before it went on the air; a comedy tour with his good buddy Dave Chappelle which was sadly deemed "disappointing;" a movie he directed called "Irresistible" which critics sadly pronounced "lame brained" and "insulting;" and his Apple TV show, which, yes, sadly, nobody watched and was only recently cancelled (since, whoopsie, Apple didn't want him to go anywhere near touchy subjects like China because that's where their iPhones are assembled). What's a fallen Bro Idol to do? Especiall

Welcome, my chickens, to the latest edition of "Who's The Thirstiest Ho?" First up, perennially-parched stunt queen, Beyonce, who last Sunday gave everyone a confusing case of "Harpo, who's that new Kardashian and why is she wearing a tiny metal heart on her cha-cha hole?" when she dropped a commercial and two new songs during the Super Bowl for her forthcoming country album. Yes, you read that right, "country," the last bastion of greedy pop stars hoping to find a new revenue stream besides this . It worked out so well for Justin Timberlake  and Steven Tyler . Yippee ay yee!  When she inserted herself into TaylorBowl, many wondered if Beyonce was showing her "Look at meeeeee!" jellyness. Others asked if she was stealing the spotlight from Usher's halftime show and his own forthcoming album. The answer is a joyous, "Yes, to all of this!" And when you scorch that much earth, boy, do you need moisture. And since someone on Bey

Jezebel had a headline last week that the coverage of Taylor's new relationship was starting to get weird. Huh? The coverage of her has been strange for years, and I have never understood it. It started being weird almost a decade ago. Why? I rarely contemplate or question the fervor over this woman, mainly because it feels so manipulative and orchestrated, and I have always thought she came off as a mean, spoiled, backstabbing, popular high school homecoming queen who bullies people and stays forever 16. Still, she is everywhere all the time doing nothing notable, so it is hard to ignore her even when I actively work hard to do it. I really don't give two damns who she pretends to fuck or fucks for real or contracts or blackmails to be her partner in pap strolling. I don't even like her music because, to me, it is formulaic and boring, and her songwriting reminds me of the overwrought poetry we wrote in 9th grade, heartbroken because your boyfriend has decided (sob)

Help Me, Jesus, I don't want to say anything unkind about a child, but Beyoncé and Co. make it near damn near impossible since she and her husband are intent on making their child have "it"-that extraordinary innate quality superstars are supposed to have but can't be manufactured. Blue Ivy is only 11 years old and danced in her mother's shows on the Renaissance Tour; she was okay, hit her marks, and was in synch. However, that isn't the response I am supposed to have. I am supposed to be blown away, but then I am not one of Beyoncé's rabid slavish fans who call her Queen Bey; I am not a member of The Beehive, and I didn't dress in silver because she commanded it. So I don't see her child as a Princess or acknowledge that cretin Jay-Z as a king. Blech. I could rant about his comments about Jews and his alleged violence against women all day, but he is not what this article is about. This is about The Child. The Carters want The Child to be a prodig

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