Fatback Media

Yeah, I’ll say it. Who. Gives. A. Fuck.

There. Now the rest of the world can thumb their noses at little ol’ Valkyrie, a girl who doesn’t give two shits about the Becks bending whatever it is he bends, or some dumbass NFL player who was dumb enough to get caught in a dog fighting racket. Nope, and I don’t care about the welfare of these dogs. Why? Because I don’t. I’m betting about a few million other people don’t either.

Oh, there will be a ton of pissed off PETA bitches whining about the poor, loyal pit bulls and other doggies who got bit the fuck up and killed.

Yeah, well, fuck ‘em.

I have an idea that will solve my give-a-fuckedness. Take the Bex, Vick, and four or five fighting pit bulls, put them all in a large enclosure with an electric fence and a closed circuit camera. Sell video.

Now that’s something I would love to cover. So why do I have pictures of hot naked biker chicks? Well, because that’s way hotter than dead doggies, sugar! PS. Sorry about the pic of your mom. Slut!

Move over Charm School girls–there are some new sluts in town!

Tonight VH1 premiered Rock of Love, and in doing so brought the Reality Skank Factor up to a whole new level. Tonight we have the pleasure of meeting 25 (very questionably) “beautiful” women brought to L.A. with the purpose of wooing Bret Michaels, or as contestant Brandi M. eloquently puts it, “I’m here to get me some rocker ass.”

Let’s view the show by Miss Lennox’s estimated statistics, shall we?

• Percentage of individual camera time contestants use to refer to each other as “bitch,” “slut,” “whore,” or “dumb”: 60%
• Percentage of self-confessed strippers or those who I’d peg for strippers: 80%
• Percentage of contestants with implants: 70%
• Percentage of contestants who look like they would kick Bret’s ass if he cheated on them: 80%. They’re incredibly rough looking.

Rough looking yes, but these classy women have quite a way with words. Brandi M. woos Bret with the subtle line, “I am a Scorpio so I’m ruled by my genitals.” Of course she makes it past tonight’s elimination. Moreover, Brandi C. lets Bret know that she’s not a jealous girl as she whispers in his ear that she’ll let him have several girlfriends in addition to her, as long as she remains Queen Bitch. After this romantic murmuring, the audience knows she will sail through to the next round of the competition for Bret’s heart cock.

Like Tiffany Patterson before her (”Miss New York” on both Flavor of Love seasons), Rock of Love’s Tiffany is the show’s standout. By standout I mean the sloppiest, drunkest, nastiest, drama-filled, meth-faced, completely insane girl of them all. Bret’s take on Tiffany: “I was kind of turned on a little bit, but I also had a feeling she was trying to kill me. She beat my penis to a pulp.” Come on, with that assessment was there any doubt that Tiffany would survive this first elimination ceremony?

Raven, however, prefers the boring-as-shit approach of rambling incessantly about how intelligent she is. But intelligence doesn’t work on Bret Michaels, sweetie, and besides I’m rather certain that referring to yourself as “obtuse” means that you are indeed stupid and not smart. Then again I’m not surprised at Raven’s word misuse since in our first introduction to her she says that “Every Thorn Has Its Rose” [sic] is a poignant song.

And Bret? Well when you see and hear Bret in action, it’s just difficult to understand why he hasn’t met the love of his life yet. I mean here’s a 44 year old man who clearly knows what he likes in women. He explains about Brandi C., “Her heaving well-implanted breasts caught my eye immediately.” Bret knows what is important for a successful relationship and will continue to apply his exacting standards to whittle this (cess)pool of now 16 women down to his special one.

With all this trash and drama will I be watching next week? You betcha, honey. After all, I’m convinced there will be multiple reveals of porn history and at least one in the group will turn out to be a transvestite–in fact I’d put money on 6’3” Magdalena really turning out to be man.

Miss Lennox wouldn’t miss an episode for the world!

 

Jennifer Lopez no longer wants to be referred to as “J-Lo” fearing it only furthers her negative status as a diva. Blah, blah, who cares. Just don’t get rid of that junk in yo’ trunk, baby. I mean, no need for radical change.

Actress and singer Jennifer Lopez ditched the performing name of J-Lo, in a bid to dump her reputation as a diva.

The 37-year-old, famous for being demanding and stroppy, said her alter-ego was meant to be fun but “got out of control and really crazy”.She added: “That’s all gone with the ridiculous stories about me throwing tantrums and insisting on Egyptian sheets. That’s all firmly in my past.” (source)

Silly, J-Lo. Don’t you know you’ll never be known otherwise in spite of your efforts? It’s like that fat kid in 1st grade with spaghetti stains on his shirt that ate all the lunches during nap time. He’ll always be known as Fatty. Or that slutty girl in high school who used to help “excercise”  the football team underneath the bleachers in exchange for prom queen nominations. I’ll never live that down. Err, I mean, she’ll never live that down. Oh go fuck yourselves. Here’s some more J-Lo in Italian Vanity Fair. Bon Jovi, questo di pasta! Mortadella!