SUCH POLLOCKS!

Thank you Neal! Now, neither me nor whatevs, needs to update our blogs for the day! HILARIOUS! (btw, i dont like the Fiery Furnaces or Matzoh).


Feb. 8, 2004 | If there was one good thing to come
out of Nipplegate, it's that the big media -- and I
mean you, Salon.com, thanks for the gig! -- finally
started to pay attention to the real faboo writers out
there in Netland. The moment that Tittiegate tore
open, and I mean right away, there must have been 10
thou of us slapping our keys, figgerin' out the
cultural score at halftime. It wasn't JanJax's
boobie-oobie that was the big news, or Justin
Pattycake's so very
I'm-not-gay-rip-your-clothes-off-alterna-frat dancing.
The coverage was way more important than the story.
Our instant online commentary was so haps that if you
blinked, you missed the word. Dancing Darlene and Joey
Munch Munch were the best whores out of the gate. Much
bling to them. The Day After, Nude Yorkie dot com
scorched the Earth by interviewing Hellaslut, the rad
DJ and blog bitch who started it all. By the way, I
totally sang the Stills at after-hours karaoke last
night.

We're making gossip on our own termz now.
Saggymelongate was last week. When you're a Hipster
Winchell, there's no time to go blinkers. You've got
to be watching all the time. I pronounce this The O.C.
Returns To The Air, Finally, Week. Mischa, darling,
eat some ham! Adam Brody, call me!

Jannie Jackoo is a little fraidy red hen, and CBS is
going to have a five-minute delay whether you like it
or not, Jermaine Duprude. But that's OK, because my
mind is always five minutes ahead. And who cares if
the broadcast ends at 11:30 p.m.? That's when I
usually wake up! Next weekend, I'm heading to Philly,
the city of BroLo, to see the Fabulous Ms. Laverne,
who looks just like Karen O. It's gonna kick! But
first, the Grammys. Music is all about the jiggle,
Dave Grohl, you phony Phoo Phighter. We can only pray
for another Bazongagate. I'm lookin' at you, Meg
White.
POSTED AT 7:32 P.M.

Note to Prince: Your songs are not going to work at
the Bellagio, so quit trying. You're still too black
for Vegas, baby. Is that Huey Lewis' horn section?
Must be, if Justin Timberfake likes it. Quentin
Tarantino thinks that Prince and Beyoncé together are
the bomb! Remember, QT, that some bombs can be STANKY.
I wanna see Beyoncé's right titty! It's very possible
that cultural censorship could be the new fascism. Are
you listening, VH1 producers? These are my obs, and
they are hotttt!
POSTED AT 8:06 P.M.

The Beatles suck even worse when you substitute Dave
Matthews for John Lennon. If you want danger, listen
to the mofo Kinks! For pictures of me licking Miss
Ellie and Pedro at New Wave Karaoke last night, click
here.
POSTED AT 8:19 P.M.

Grammy cameraman! Please show more close-ups of Meg. I
don't wanna see Jack. He's scary! The White Stripes
will go down as one of the greatest bands in RAWK
history. I knew it the first time I saw them at the
Magic Stick. I've archived the photos from that show.
Meg, baby. I will come to you in the dark of night
when you call for me! I dare anyone to watch that
performance -- come on, loserz, you know you're
watching -- and tell me that rock 'n' roll is dead.
MUSIC IS ALIVE IN AMERICA, PEOPLE! Like I said six
months ago on PopCultureNotes, Jack White and Andre
3000 are the true musical geniuses of our time!
POSTED AT 8:40 P.M.

Great. "Cry Me a River," only the second-best tune
ever with that title, just won an award for
Most-Overrated Song. No apologies, wuss, no apolo ...
Dammit! What occurred, Bustin Pimplesteak, was not
"intentional," and was not "regrettable." No offense
taken here. I had a stiffy that didn't go away until
the fourth quarter. Now you get a Grammy, wigga, and
we'll never get to see Janet's tatas again. Thanks a
damn lot!

Posting will be sporadic for the next 20 minutes. I'll
be taking the subway into Manhattan. Nellie
Sluttburger's having people over for a Second Half Of
The Grammys party. She's promised some Spin-The-Bottle
and Stoli Orange. You know where NellNell lives. Meet
me there, you lame-o spazz!
POSTED AT 8:54 P.M.

Madonna-Whore took a few minutes off from writing her
next kid's book, "A Childhood Garden of Chastity," to
show off her friendship with Sting, who introduced her
to her hubby, Guy Ritchie. Hey, Stinger? Can you
invite me over to yer loncheria so I can meet Nicole
Richie? She really soaks my panties.

Sean Paul? I hear better rizzeggae on a Tuesday night
in Williamsburg.

This wuz just the first nite in a HUGE year for Hilary
Duffmaster. This tyme next year, she won't just be
presenting a Grammy. She'll be winning one. But watch
your back, darlin'! I got the lowdown on Lindsey
Lohan. "Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen" has the
smoke and the fire. When is that freaky missy gonna be
18, anyway? Freckled and fine!
POSTED AT 9:19 P.M.

Oh, my god! Yoko Ono! That bee-yotch broke up the
Beatles. Attention VH1 Producers. I have an idea. Last
weekend, I was watching my Tivo of the Flock of
Seagulls episode of Bands Reunited. The best! My palz
Lemon Square and Love Muffin and I were tokin' and
jokin', and I said, what about a show called "Breaking
Up the Band," where the hosts spread nasty rumors and
sleep with different musicians? It'd be like
"Othello," but totally pop! Love Muffin offered to be
the host. First up: the Strokes! Woof woof!
POSTED AT 9:37 P.M.

Black Eyed Peas, lookin' fine, ask, Where Is Tha Love?
I got yer answer, right here, at the sweet-ass LES
loft of the great Ms. Nellie Sluttburger. If there's
one blogger whose hole we ALL want to plug, it's
Nellie, esp. when she breaks out the Stoli mojitos.
This woman, who coined the phrase "Brooklyn
Pole-Sniff" while perfecting the position -- in
reverse -- keeps the baddest damn Web site this side
of St. Louis. As Lori The Backstage L.A. Prostitute
says, "Nellie's not the sheezle, she's the beezle
ebeneezle!" Word.

It might have been nice if June Carter Cash had won a
Grammy when she was alive, and you can quote me on
that, Mr. Washington Post.
POSTED AT 9:51 P.M.

Oh, for the Passion Of Christ! The Best New Artist is
not Evanescence. It has got to be Stellastarr* or
Maybe Franz Ferdinand. No. Strike that. I love love
love the Fiery Furnaces more than I love matzoh. And
that's a lot.
POSTED AT 10:04 P.M.

Samuel L. Jackson tells us: Funk makes us move! Funk
makes us dance! Funk is inside the people! Yassuh! It
sho is! I likes to dance to da funk! Earth, Wind,
Fire, Outkast and Robert Randolph. Damn! George
Clinton better book P-Funk some time in Tha Cosmic
Rehearsal Studio! All we need now is La Jacka's
honkers to make the night complete.

Ding-dong! FelonyMelanie just spun the bottle my way.
I'm sorry. I can't hear you. There's a tongue in my
ear!
POSTED AT 10:21 P.M.

The Foo Fighters and Chick Corea! Justin Timberlake
and Arturo Sandoval! 50 Cent and Yitzhak Perlman!
POSTED AT 10:32 P.M.

Well, the Grammys sucked, as usual. The best music is
in the hearts of the people, natch. Whoever didn't
nominate Les Savy Fav, again, or Dizzee Rascal, for
the first time, should have their pubes shaved.

Gotta work tomorrow. Sux. If anyone out there knows of
a job, any job, in the media, preferably writing but
also editing or even publicity, email me. But I'm
gonna need the weekend of May 1-2 off. Know that in
advance. See you at Coachella, suckahs. Hey ya!
POSTED AT 11:28 P.M.