ï Frances Bean Cobain brings to mind the nature vs. nurture debate. A girl whose father committed suicide when she was a toddler and whose mother is a walking genital chancre can end up this mature, honest, and practical and yet your investment-banker brother's prep-school son deals meth and crashed his Escalade into a White Castle drive-through window. It boggles the mind.
ï FEMA can't get it together to bring immediate aid to New Orleans, yet John Travolta can. What a sick, crazy, messed-up world we live in.
ï Sloooowly they grow. Step by step. Inch by inch. Lindsay Lohan is looking positively zaftig.
ï "Preseedeent Boosh, he is a bad man, yes? I know this because I open the television." Celine Dion, ladies and gentlemen!
ï Angie Harmon: crooked eyeballs. Symmetrical nipples.
ï Nicolette Sheridan: also boobs.
ï As God is her witness, Britney will never! Eat Fritos! Again!
ï First, their lives are shattered by a devastating national disaster, then the federal government fucks up colossally and drags feet on rescue efforts, then they're shipped off to Memphis, and now some New Orleans evacuees are denied the chance to belt out Rod Stewart's "Rhythm of my Heart" for Randy Jackson? That's cold, dawg.
