Remember how earlier this week a supposed source at Def Jam shut down rumors that Nas‘ next album would be called Nigga and released in December? Now that’s been shut down. What a saga! Nas has confirmed to MTV News that he does have an album on the way (December 11, to be precise) and that it’s going to be given the potentially more offensive name of Nigger. Racial discourse, I hope you had a big meal because you’re about to get a workout. Nas elaborates on the criticism he’s received and reasons for the album title:
“If [race expert] Cornell West was making an album called Nigger, they would know he’s got something intellectual to say. To think I’m gonna say something that’s not intellectual is calling me a nigger, and to be called a nigger by Jesse Jackson and the NAACP is counterproductive, counter-revolutionary…I wanna make the word easy on muthaf***ers’ ears. You see how white boys ain’t mad at ‘cracker’ ’cause it don’t have the same [sting] as ‘nigger’? I want ‘nigger’ to have less meaning [than] ‘cracker.’ With all the bulls*** that’s going on in the world, racism is at its peak. I wanna do the s*** that’s not being done. I wanna be the artist who ain’t out. I wanna make the music I wanna hear.“
Interestingly, his stance on using the word to take away its power falls right in line with that of Imus’ lawyer (as related in the FoxNews.com story that Nas is debunking: “Words like that should be deprived of their meanings, and then they can’t hurt.” Nas and Imus’ people: who knew they had so much in common? [MTV News / Image: Getty]
Heard the one about Britney Spears getting collagen lip injections and then driving over a photographer? There’s no actual punchline, because Britney’s enough of a joke on her own. As you can see in the above video, the wreck of a singer left an LA medical center covering her mouth. Pics show her lips looking extra large, but maybe they’re just swollen from eating too many Big Macs. Girl likes things super-sized! Poor thing probably couldn’t see over her massive mouth, and that’s how she ended up nailing a photographer’s foot under her car. I have a sneaking suspicion that her lips actually knocked him out. They’re so huge she had to open her window to make room for them, and crunch! Man down. The incident so upset Britney that she stopped for a moment, started crying and then drove away to go eat a cookie. You know, something she just urgently NEEDS to do in public.
Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt‘s parenting skills get hung out to dry in the top (non-) story of Page Six in today’s New York Post. A psychologist-cum-busybody whose name I won’t type because I don’t want to add to her Google rank, claims that the jet-setting lifestyle of the famous stars may be hurting their children. Says the shrink:
“Maddox is an adopted child, so he already has a sense of abandonment. Kids that constantly move are like army brats, in that very often they don’t want to open up to people. They feel loss, and there is a problem with attachment…With the moves, the kids just don’t invest in relationships, because they’re going to lose them anyway. They think: ‘Why bother? I’m not gonna stick around. We’re gonna pick up and go, and the loss of friends is painful.’“
What a load of garbage. Even if this is true, certainly, certainly, certainly the life that Brad and Angelina can provide beats hanging around a third world country with a per capita income that’s almost 17 times smaller than the U.S.’s (as is Cambodia, where Maddox is from) or being dehydrated and suffering from malnutrition as Zahara was, when Angelina adopted her from Ethopia. Do I need to mention that she was orphaned by AIDS? No situation is perfect, and certainly we know that any child would be better off in some subdivided suburb away from the reality of the world. But the Brangelina clan have it pretty good (at least they get to see the world for their transient troubles!). If it’s a lesser evil, it’s an awfully cushy one. [New York Post]
As was requested in our last staff meeting, viewing of The Office is mandatory for all employees. Please review my minutes of last night’s episode and be prepared for a discussion of the show in today’s lunch meeting. Yes, we’re having Italian food. Powerpoint to follow (once I figure out how to get it to work).
Point #1. Agritourism is the future! Dwight is now running Schrute Farms as an inn with the help of his table-making brother Mose. Forget Andy, don’t you think Angela and that outhouse-loving weirdo should get it on? He could probably make her a coat out of cat fur.
Point #2. Telemarketing is the future, too! Michael is cold-calling people to make extra money so he can afford such luxuries as a Core Flex ab machine and The Muppet Show on DVD. How many other people did not laugh at this because it kinda sorta totally rings true? My abs look awesome though.
Partying Paris Hires a Driver
The heiress arranged for transportation so she didn’t have to get behind the wheel after a night of table dancing and shots. It only took her 40 days in jail to wise up! [Us Weekly]
Heidi Montag’s Sexy Music Video
As if Heidi and Spencer couldn’t get more loathsome…The two recently shot her music video on the beach, with Heidi prancing around in a bikini. The concept appears to be T&A – her only two redeeming qualities, natch. [Just Jared]
Is Seinfeld’s Wife a Liar?
Jessica Seinfeld’s new kids cookbook is eerily similar to another recipe guide that came out earlier this year. Which leads us to ask, “What’s the deal with plagiarizing about pureed food?” [NYDN]
Britney Settles Hit & Run
One problem out of the way, 68950302840303 more to go! [TMZ]
Doggone Tired Ellen Cancels Show
After a grueling week of dog drama, Ellen takes the day off. Will her fans call in death threats to her now, too? [TMZ]
Fake news firebrand and occasionally funny comedian Stephen Colbert announced his candidacy for president this week. Unfortunately for America, Colbert will only be running in South Carolina. He’s planning as running both as Democrat and a Republican, which means he needs both the approval of both parties. Katon Dawson, chairman of South Carolina’s Republican Party, told The New York Times, “My advice is that he could probably have more fun buying a sports car and getting a girlfriend.”
Obviously, Mr. Dawson has never watched The Colbert Report. Perhaps he has never heard of comedy.
Anyway . . . this got us to thinking: Who else should run for president? After the jump, we review some potential candidates.
- Britney Spears blames poor cell-phone reception for losing visitation rights to her children. Also the product of poor-cell phone reception: marrying K-Fed, shaving her head, the fall of Rome, herpes and Iggygate. Duh. [Dlisted]
- Ozzy Osbourne is something of a style icon to young stars. Tired of imitating his medicated babbling, they’ve moved on to raiding his closet. [CityRag]
- Of his relationship with Tameka Foster, Usher says: “Ours is not a typical love story.” Seriously? I thought everyone had beef with their mother-in-laws that played out first at a perfume-launch party and then in the tabloids. That hasn’t happened to you? [CONCRETELOOP]
- Rihanna seems to think that greasy = cool. Shame on her for succumbing to the common hipster pitfall. I thought she was better than that. [Jezebel]
Holy bones. Rubber-skinned porn entrepreneur Jenna Jameson looks like she’s just about completed her transformation from human to extra terrestrial. The mother ship surely must be landing soon to pick her up and zap her to Mars! There’s no other way to explain what the hell is going on with her body (well, we can think of a couple things but we don’t want to start rumors). From what we can tell, Jenna looks like a f*cking mess, and her should bones are practically the sizes of her massive breasts. Someone send a platter of bagels over to Club Jenna stat – if she doesn’t eat them maybe she can use them to form some sort of protective covering for her skeletal frame.
Check out more pics below of Jenna modeling (and backstage) in the Heatherette fashion show this past Monday.
Much to the chagrin of lambs and drag queens across the globe, Mariah Carey reportedly has pushed back the release of her next album (initially due in November) to February. That makes her the third veteran diva in a row who just can’t hang with the holiday rush: new releases from Janet Jackson and Madonna that were planned for later this year (to cash in on the Christmas buying frenzy) have all been pushed back to an early-2008 release date. In Madonna’s case, her record most likely was held-up due to tepid Internet response of two not-at-all accidentally leaked tracks.
Writer Roger Friedman predicts the early months of 2008 to bring a “Diva Logjam.” If that’s true, who do you think will come out on top in the charts? More importantly, who out of the three of them, could win a mud-wrestling match? My bet’s on Mariah — she has the firmest breasts and their value as weapons cannot be underestimated. [FoxNews.com /Images: Getty]
The tale of Lindsay Lohan stealing another woman’s man at rehab is so juicy that it’s almost as good as one of those steamy, cheese-ball romance novels. So why not make it into one? We’ve used Breanna Tierney‘s interview with the National Enquirer as inspiration for a tale about this torrid, methed-up love triangle. Draw a hot bath, pour a tall glass of non-alcoholic wine and get ready to melt from the heat of Lindsay and Riley’s sober, forbidden love. There’s no treatment for this kind of passion!
Chapter 8: Their Love is Real, the Ring is Not
No moon was shining in the stairwell at the Cirque Lodge rehab facility, as windows were a luxury afforded only to the patients’ bedrooms. But Lindsay and Riley couldn’t touch in their bedrooms – couldn’t even have visitors in there – so this was where they painted the masterpiece of their young love. On the crusty, cigarette-butt covered stairs, their pale bodies mixed with the egg shell white paint until they became one giant canvas, together. Riley pressed his face into Lindsay’s shoulder, inhaling her scent like someone suffering from an asthma attack sucking their inhaler. Tangled in her hair, he was overcome by the sweet smell of the chicken fingers she had for dinner mixed with the pack of Marlboro Reds they had smoked together in group therapy. He grabbed her buttocks and gasped when he felt skin. “Holy eff,” he whispered into her freckled ear. “Your pants are already off?!”
“No you ass.” His red-haired lover’s voice sent chills down his acne-covered neck. “It’s my new Balenciaga small Classique bag in Mustard. I just got it and I didn’t want to put it on the floor. Doesn’t the leather feel nice?”
Overcome by a shared passion for couture goods sculpted from the hides of farm animals and crushed Percosets, they embraced. Their love had become an addiction no intervention could tear apart.