Peckerwood Manor

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

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