the 941

Shut up, Screech. Don’t make us get all A.C. Slater on your ass (we don’t really know what that means).

The Batman on the toilet. And yet still, we swoon…

Ouchy ouch. Ouch. OWWWWW.

Matt LeBlanc to manager: How YOU doin’? No, really.

We loves us some Chelsea Handler, but we wish she would’ve been harder on this jerk. Like, punch him in the face or something.

Maybe this is just because people deliberately aren’t buying the paper, but…

For all you chicken feces out there, a less painful way (for you) to dump someone. (Don’t bother with the “It’s better than by text” defense, ya douchenozzle.)

(more…)

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Barenaked to Disney: “Mickey, it’s been one week since you looked at me…”

This just in: Despite the Happening dud, Shamalamadingdong perseveres.

We’re gonna choose not to believe this just yet, but… Batman’s bad timing just gets badder. And — wait for it — Bat shit crazier.

All hail the “gastrosexual.” And all await Anthony Bourdain to kick your pansy, gastro-ass.

Jezebel pretty much calls it with one word: No.

Aww, Jessica. Hang up your boots already. Maybe your ex should consider it, too.

R.I.P., Golden Gal Sophia. We still use that trick with the salt in the wine bottle.

That’ll learn you, FCC: Janet’s boob is not obscene; this, however, came pretty close.

The Roeper ampersand Ebert fallout: We’ve got a younger, spare thumb or two, too.

Back the freak off, Skechers. We had the ugliest shoes first.

He be illin’. C’mon, people, we couldn’t resist. Seriously, get better soon, DMC. It’s tricky, you know?

Leno long gone. Eh, we’re sure he’ll take it on the chin. Hey-O! And a coda far more clever than anything Leno’s done in years.

Meanwhile, Conan replacement Jimmy Fallon to spend time honing his irritating cutesy factor.

Today in ridiculous ridiculousness. Hey, at least Michael Moore’s not doing it. Yet.

Today in ridiculous ridiculousness, part two: Is Moore on THIS yet?

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A few weeks ago we did a story on the Sweded movie phenomenon. Little did I know that there is also a whole cottage industry that’s remaking movies using Lego figures. Here is a version of Raiders of the Lost Ark, a Raiders/Star Wars montage, a Star Trek reenactment and one great song, all played out with our little plastic friends.

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Last week I laid some groundwork for this year’s World Series of Poker Main Event, how Harrah’s planned to halt play once they got down to the final table of nine people until November in order to jack up mainstream media interest and let ESPN’s not-so-live TV coverage catch up. Let the media frenzy begin.

The WSOP Main Event started July 3, with 6,844 people ponying up the $10,000 to participate, resulting in a prize pool of $64,333,600. Anyone who managed to beat out more than ten percent of the field managed to take home some dough, starting at $21,230 at 666th place. At 3:30 a.m. this morning, Michigan pro Dean Hamrick was in the uncomfortable position of being knocked out at 10th place, resulting in a booby prize of almost $600k.

The final nine received a payout of $900k — the minimum they will be winning once play resumes — and a 117 day vacation that they’ll likely spend negotiating endorsement deals, studying opponents and training, training, training. $900k is a lot, but 1st place will take home over $9 million, along with an easy, almost-guaranteed lifetime income as a sponsored pro. There are a few amateurs, a few pros, a mix of ages, and five different countries represented among the surviving few. All men, though, as the final female player was eliminated in 17th place.

Locally, our own former CL columnist (and current traitor) Jaden Hair got a little windfall from the WSOP. Her husband Scott (that’s him looking stern in the pic) — a good online poker player — managed to ride a short stack into the money for a cool $27k, finishing 466th when his pocket aces got two-outed by pocket queens. Bad beat, Scott. And Jaden, out of respect for you, I refrained from making a joke about “riding the short stack”.

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This week’s Morning After column begins a two-part chronicle of my darned-near-life-changing stint on The Master Cleanse, that much ballyhooed and debated “fad” regimen developed back in 1941 by Stanley Burroughs.

While the columns describe my own experience — read: I am not a professional, do not try this at home, at least before consulting with someone (i.e. a physician) in the know — a few other resources are listed below. Again, read up, ask around and be sensible.

A 2006 New York Times article on it

A PDF booklet containing Burroughs’ original text from 1941

A blog I referred to on a day-by-day basis

Another quite detailed blog

More background here, and here too…

Including criticism

A support forum

Tune in to next week’s Morning After for the conclusion. Happy and safe cleansing, everyone. (And yes, that image is what popped up after I searched for a Master Cleanse image. Poor Kermeeee!!!)

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Have you ever seen Food Party? Uhm, just watch…

For more, head here.

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Even petty criminals celebrate the Fourth… kinda.

More trouble for the (LA) Times.

The niche vs. herd media debate continues. Baaaaaaa.

Rush Limbaugh not retiring — ever. There goes that hope.

Brinkley and Cook: The Burt and Loni of the millenium?

Dumpster diving in Weinstein-land. Again, kinda.

Why you gotta be takin’ our Joy?

The Peach Pit to reopen — wait for it — with Brenda. Cue the ’90s electric guitars and manscaped sideburns.

Boing Boing (by way of Gawker) presents the 15 most useless internet euphemisms. But what is “boing boing” a euphemism for?

And what could be more all American than this? (Actually, we were just looking for a “barbecue sauce” image to post for the first item and we came across this image and, whoa, when we clicked for the link, this delightful manifesto came up. God bless America!)

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Bears. Bears. Bears. Polish sausage. Ditka. Ditka. Ditka.

We can only hope it was good sausage.

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eGads. eBay screws up.

Sound the alarm, start the presses, it’s official. The Brangelina nation is expanding as we type.

In dueling video game news, Rock Band vs. Guitar Hero. The Who or Aerosmith? Who would you choose? Who, who, who who?

Take a deep breath: There’s no actor’s strike. Yet.

Today in Duh!: App for app, tricking out your iPhone will cost you.

We always knew South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut was onto something regarding those wacky Baldwin brothers. First, Alec. Then, Stephen. Daniel and Billy, you’re at bat.

Ah, you crazy kids, Amy and Kanye. Why don’t you just get married? Blake Incarcerated won’t mind.

A special space for special writers, especially: We gotta get on this.

Corporate synergy alert: Warner and Nokia align.

But were they Pall Malls?

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