Peckerwood Manor

Greetings, Manor Hors! Periodically, "The Roving Pecker" presents urgent missives from filthy esteemed guest writers. Today's is from Mizcynical! So what are your plans this weekend? If you happen to have a spare $5,000, or even $1,200, burning a hole in your pocket in this economy , then I have just the thing for you. Gwyneth Paltrow, our favorite out-of-touch-basic-bitch (who was briefly African), is hosting an in-person wellness summit. Because of course she is and her timing couldn't be more exquisite. Perhaps, dear reader, you don't live in Los Angeles, therefore missing out on the opportunity to see and  work with her in the Santa Monica goop office - and if you do, this means you earn enough money to afford a studio apartment with six roommates in one of the most expensive cities in the world.  Another downside of not living in L.A. is that you don't have an overpriced Panera Bread - oops, I meant goop kitchen - near you, therefore, missing out on the

Danger ahead! It's called  George Clooney .  The man, the myth, or at least the myth-in-his-own-mind. He's pictured above with his new store-bought teefs, along with evidence that he may well need a re-do of his under-eye surgery - the only cosmetic tweek he'll admit to - since those bags definitely won't fit under the seat or in the overhead bin.  George, as you know, likes to think of himself as both a regular funny-bunny guy and Lord Almighty of The High Church of Hollywood. Beware of both. In terms of the former, his eyes frequently glisten with an aw-shucks twinkle when he jokes about his longtime bestie, Brad Pitt , whom he calls "Pretty Boy Brad," or when he mocks his nipple-dee-do-da, 1997 "Batman" outfit, or mentions how often he likes to play pranks while on set. See? He's just a regular guy. So rascally! Such a scamp! Except when he's not. When Quentin Tarantino recently told the press that George is "not a movie star,"

Welcome, fellow trollops, to the latest edition of "Who's This Week's Thirstiest Ho?" Today's trio are drier than a crumbling wine cork between an overflowing Dumpster and a leased Chevy Trax behind an off-ramp 7-11, so they need all the moisture they can get. First, we have perpetual thirsty gal, Gwyneth Paltrow , who's an expert at gaining attention, what with her vagina-scented candles (did she ever say whose vagina it smelled like? Was it  Oprah's vagina? Justin Timberlake's ?  That Damn Judi Dench's ?). Then there's her instructions on how to yawn properly (yes, she insists, you're doing it wrong; I'm assuming it's all about opening wide-wide-wide, like giving a blowie to The Hammaconda ); how to speak kind words to water before drinking it (to encourage it's "good molecular structure") (huh?); and how to pump oxygen with a catheter up your b-hole, followed by a deep, spiritually-uplifting coffee enema (the latte

Fancy some sliced cow scrotum? Don't get me started on how bologna is made or what goes into it, just know that I can't recall the last time I ate it - and I'd like to keep it that way. As a wee kidlet, sandwiches with two slices of bologna, one slice of Kraft American cheese and a slathering of French's yellow mustard (on Wonder bread)  (of course!) were a lunchtime treat at the Bree Daniels household, each one lovingly prepared by Mama Daniels with a Misty Lights ciggie dangling from her lower lip. This was just before her and Papa Daniels gave up the coffin nails for jogging - relentlessly; morning and evening! - since everyone on earth took up jogging at the time, including President Carter. They even bought " The Complete Book Of Running ," by Jamie F. Fixx. Never mind that Fixx died of a heart attack at age 52 on one of his runs. Can we blame it on the bologna? Even if you don't eat bologna, many things are "full of bologna," or "a bun

  I apologize to Whamo in advance. J'adore, but je don't j'adore Goop. In her latest trolling interview , Gwyneth tries to come off as just an everyday woman. Stop laughing. She's a salt of the earth, a modest woman, and an Oscar Winner! She works relentlessly for world peace and saves animals in between modeling and being better than the plebes. She is the common man's princess of giving of self and is not materialistic at all. Not our girl. No way. I will give her this, though: the woman is an Olympian when it comes to pivoting. She flips the script when she wants to. Why would she want to, you ask? I am here to answer: it is because she has a cheaper line of beauty items from her new venture called Good.clean.goop that she is flogging to the lower orders. So now we get humble Goop, down-to-earth Goop, your bestie, and relatable Goop. But at one point, when she says she isn't attracted to very wealthy men, her mask slips, and Strawbitch rears her entitled head

Source: gwynethpaltrow/Instagram Broth connoisseur and sentient kindling Gwyneth Paltrow took some time with her head out of her 20-year-old stripper's ass this week to embark on a lavish vacation with her family in Italy, and aren't we lucky she shared the photos to prove it! I know we're all super busy mainlining cheez whiz and canned soup right now, but please! There's tatas involved so I need your full attention!