By Jack Jackson

     Wafah Dufour, Osama Bin-Laden's niece, posed mostly nekkid for GQ.  GQ, Go Take a Nap!  If you let the terrorists pose in our magazines, they've already won!  What kind of message are you sending to America?  That it's okay to be a terrorist and have your niece pose for GQ?  [We think they should turn the whole Middle East into a parking lot.--Eds.]

     Rapper Foxy Brown stuck her tongue out at her judge and the judge ordered her to be handcuffed to her seat.  Judge, Go Take a Nap!  You can still stick your tongue out if you're handcuffed to your seat!  You've got to use more extreme measures, like sleep deprivation.  Let's see her stick her tongue out when she hasn't slept for three days!  I mean, if we're going to find all the terrorist scumbags, we've got to at least wire car batteries to their private parts.  [We think we should do medical experiments on the ones who don't talk.--Eds.]

     And David Letterman is upset that a New Mexico judge granted a restraining order to a crazy woman who claims he's been sending her secret messages through the teevee.  David, Go Take a Nap!  You shouldn't send secret messages to crazy women in New Mexico through the teevee.  It's just not fair.  [We know that George Bush has the best interests of our country on his mind, because the teevee told us so.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     Hollywood is very concerned about box office receipts since this year's total projections are the worst in fifteen years.  One analyst suggested this is due to "unattractive movies that don't appeal to young male audiences, the cost of movie tickets, parking, the shrinking window [of] a movie's theatrical and DVD releases."  [We think it's because the Democrats and activist judges banned school prayer.--Eds.]  Hollywood, Go Take a Nap!  You don't need to be worried about lack of box office receipts.  You just keep pumping out great movies and eventually people will pay $10 to see them before the $14.99 DVD comes out.  [It's easier to drink and make out at home.--Eds.]

     Time named its Persons of the Year [It'd still be Men of the Year if it hadn't been for the Johnson Administration and the Warren Court.--Eds.] Bill Gates and his wife, and some €-trash named Bono.  Time, Go Take a Nap!  Just because you've got a bunch of money and throw it around doesn't make you a great person!  You've got to do something great like possess monopoly power over operating systems or go on world tours filled with lots of TVs singing about lemons.  [We still think Ronald Reagan is Person of the Year for single-handedly destroying Communism for once and all.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     Brit pop's Robbie Williams agreed to take some cash last week from the publishers of The People which reported he was gay.  Well, they actually reported that he "had numerous homosexual encounters with strangers," which isn't the same as being gay, I suppose.  [It's like being gay.--Eds.]  Robbie sued 'em, and they paid him some cash, and they apologized in print.  Robbie, Go Take a Nap!  You don't need to go to court to prove you're not gay!  You just need to go get some lap dances at shady strip clubs or rent a bunch of all-holes-filled pr0nogoraphies.  And if anyone wants to pay me a bunch of money to report on my numerous homosexual encounters with strangers, my email address is in the byline.  [We don't want to hear about it.--Eds.]

     Live 8 sued Trimspa because then-spokesperson Anna Nicole Smith allegedly showed up to the event drunk and inappropriately dressed for the "family program."  Live 8, Go Take a Nap!  Family gatherings are supposed to involve at least one drunk person, and you're lucky if we're all wearing pants.  And were you really all that surprised that she showed up a little toasty?  [She's officially invited to our next family program.--Eds.]

     Jet Li says Fearless will be his last martial arts film because he's now a practicing Buddhist and wants to make "more philosophical, family oriented movies."  [Maybe he and Anna Nicole Smith can be a part of the Cheaper By the Dozen series?--Eds.]  Jet, Go Take a Nap!  Just admit that kicking people's asses on film is hard on a guy and you're too lazy to do it anymore.  Don't be getting all Zen on me and go rationalizing your lack of interest.

     And in world news, Israel passed a law allowing machines to perform euthanasia because it would be against Jewish strictures if a person did it.  All I want to know is this: is it kosher to eat your Soylent Green through a hole in a sheet?

By Jack Jackson

     There just wasn't anything all that funny to talk about this week.  Sorry.

By Jack Jackson

     Say it ain't so, but it is so, Talan Torriero and Kimberly Stewart, who, if you remember right from last week, just got engaged after "dating anywhere from one week to two months," announced this week through their publicists that their engagement is off, they are no longer romantically involved, they remain friends, and it was all because "It was just too soon to enter into a lifelong commitment."  Kimberly and Talan, Go Take a Nap!  Last week I was on such an orgasmic high to hear about your wonderful engagement to be married, and then you just take off your collective pants and figuratively shit all over my hopes and dreams for your lives together.  [We think she called it off because his cum tastes a little off.--Eds.]

     Daniel Radcliffe, only known as Harry Potter, said the latest movie just had to be dark because a kid dies in the book.  "You can't make that light and frothy," he said.  Daniel, Go Take a Nap!  Sure you can make a kid dying light and frothy.  Just use your magic wand and turn him into a Moo-latte from DQ.  [We like hot cocoa with the canned whipped cream sprayed on top.--Eds.]

     Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson are splitsville.  Where is the unreality TV show for that?  I didn't want to watch them as Newlyweds, but I do want to watch them fight over toasters and cars.

     Two people were injured at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade when an out-of-control float knocked down a lamppost and, well, you can imagine how that one went.  Here's an idea: stop having that damn parade.  Parades are stupid in the first place and that particular damn parade is nothing but an ad for cheap plastic crap made by the wily Chinee.  [You gotta get your mind right.--Eds.]

     Tom Cruise bought a sonogram machine so he could watch his baby grow in the womb.  The machines cost about $150K, but he apparently didn't want to have to drive to the doctor's office every time he wanted to see the fetus wave hello.  Tom, Go Take a Nap!  You don't need to see the baby in the womb.  It'll pop out when it's ready, and then you can see it all the time.

By Jack Jackson

     Robert Blake's civil trial ended poorly for him.  He was found liable by the jury for the death of his wife, and the jury awarded $30Million in damages.  Robert Blake's jury, Go Take a Nap!  You're sending the wrong message!  You're telling people you can kill your wives (or at least pay someone to) and if you get caught, you've just got to cough up $30Million.  Just think about all the rich men in the country!  They're going to all kill their wives and just start writing checks.  [Guess he'll have to do some extra hotel convention autograph tours as Baretta.--Eds.]

     The comedian Sacha Baron Cohen, aka Da Ali G, has apparently upset the ENTIRE COUNTRY of Kazakhstan with his character Borat Sagdiyev.  Borat has been seen in an Oklahoma bar singing songs such as "Throw the Jews Down the Well" and flying in a Kazakh plane with the pilot holding a bottle of vodka.  Kazakhstan, Go Take a Nap!  All Westerners know that Borat is just a character and he doesn't represent the country's attitudes or beliefs.  [We heard they all eat their own poo.--Eds.]

     Kimberly Stewart, daughter of Rod Stewart, got engaged to Talan Torriero, who plays Talan on Laguna Beach.  The couple have "been dating for anywhere from one week to two months," according to her.  They announced the precious news at a party at a private residence in Beverly Hills, but it wasn't just any party.  It was a party for the release of the new XBOX 360.  Talan, Go Take a Nap!  You can't go announcing you're engaged at an XBOX release party!  You've got to save that shit for better times, like Thanksgiving Dinner at Rod Stewart's House.  And Kimberly, Go Take a Nap!  If you don't know how long you've been dating a guy, you have no business being at an XBOX release party.  [You can tell how long you've dated someone by counting back the days from the first time you put your penis in their mouth.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     The Star Trek Ultimate DVD collection is coming your way soon.  How ultimate is it?  It's 212 DVDs ultimate.  Yes, that is two hundred and twelve DVDs.  They could've stopped at 112, but when you're on a roll, why not toss in an extra hundred tapes?  Star Trek Ultimate DVD collection, Go Take a Nap!  I don't even want my pr0nomonography collection to be 212 DVDs.  And you just know in another ten years, there'll be the even more ultimate collection of 412 DVDs.  [We'll need to order another DVD shelving system from IKEA.--Eds.]

     Lewis Black will tape some stuff for the Weather Channel.  Word is that they are 2-minute segments, and he has a "riff on global warming."  Weather Channel, Go Take a Nap!  Are you going to become the MTV of weather, eventually abandoning all weather programming in favor of entertainment?  Will there be a Weather Channel 2 for indie weather?  [We like to watch tornadoes form.--Eds.]

     The longest-running family drama in TV history, 7th Heaven, is drawing near a tasteful, heartfelt, life-affirming end.  This, its 10th season, will be the last.  Insiders are speculating that it is costing the WB too much to make.  [It's all about risk vs. reward, baby.--Eds.]  WB, Go Take a Nap!  It can't cost any money to make 7th Heaven!  You got a bunch of no-talent actors on pre-fab sets!

     50 Cent is "saddened" by a fatal shooting at a theater where his movie, Get Rich or Die Tryin' was showing.  Me, too, 50, me, too.

By Jack Jackson

     Vincent Gallo, described as an "indie film auteur" who directed Buffalo '66,  is selling his sperm and all the other necessaries that go along with in vitro fertilization.  The price?  A cool $1Million.  If you buy, you can't name the baby Gallo.  The sperm will come from an eight-inch long penis, and for an extra $500K, you can get inseminated "the old-fashioned way."  Vincent, Go Take a Nap!  Your sperm ain't worth $1Million.  How could it be?  You whack off all the time and flush it down a toilet, so how can it possibly be worth so much?  [We collect ours in Mason jars.--Eds.]

     Neil Armstrong says that he never understood his world-wide celebrity after walking on the moon.  I don't get it, either.  I mean, who cares who walked on the moon?  You know, the moon?  That thing that you always see up in the sky, and wonder how they get all the Velveeta shipped to Earth from?  [It's also where gummi comes from.--Eds.]

     A Beverly Hills parking valet has file a lawsuit against Omar Sharif because Omar allegedly drunkenly called him a "stupid Mexican" and then punched him because he wouldn't take euros.  Omar, Go Take a Nap!  This is America, and our currency is dollars!  And don't punch the parking valet, because you don't want him driving your car mad at you.  He might pick his nose and put the booger on the steering wheel.  [He might donate some sperm to the backseat, too.--Eds.]

     And Madonna said "It's actually very punk-rock to not watch TV."  I don't think that's quite accurate.  I mean, I know a lot of punk-rock kids who watch TV.  Not watching TV is just a good idea.  [But we'll miss Laguna Beach.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     George Takei, only known as Lieutenant Sulu from Star Trek, announced that he is gay this week.  For awhile, I kept trying to think up funny jokes along the lines of his lovers boldly going where many men have gone before, but then I realized he must've had one hell of a difficult life, being a minority on several levels: gay, Asian (forced into an internment camp during WWII), and nerd.  So instead of developing my jokes, here's a big atta-boy! for George Takei!  Own your nerdness, Asianness, and gayness.  [Nerdness is not a word, but gayness is.--Eds.]

     Gerard Depardieu claims he's retiring from film.  Oh, Sweet Jeebus, thank you for answering my prayers!

     And the general plot of Rambo IV has been revealed: "The $50 million film will pick up former Vietnam vet John Rambo as he's living a reclusive life back home in the United States.  But when a girl goes missing, he is forced to abandon his quiet lifestyle and take justice into his own hands."  Rambo IV, Go Take a Nap!  You aren't supposed to go running around saving girls, you're supposed to win the Cold War!

By Jack Jackson

     Madonna averred that "Most priests are gay."  Well, that we knew.  But what she didn't explain is that you can be straight and still be a pedophile.  [The law varies from state to state.--Eds.]

     Ashton Kutcher is filming a pilot for a sitcom about a man who gets married to an older woman who already has kids.  The pilot is no doubt based on the daily laugh riot that is his marriage to Demi Moore.  Ashton, Go Take a Nap!  You've got two TV shows and you still do movies, and you're porking Bruce Willis' babies' momma.  Can we just get a little break from you, please, just for a little bit, like at least a year or two?  I know your fans want to see a lot more of you, so can't you just leak an amateur pr0n tape onto the Interweb?

     And Anne Rice found God.  Where, I'm not sure, but yes, it's that Anne Rice, that same Anne Rice who used to write about bisexual vampires on bloody ego trips.  She will soon publish a fictionalized account of a seven-year-old Jesus in Egypt, with Jesus doing the narrating.  Anne, Go Take a Nap!  I don't want to read about a toddler Jesus.  I want to read about bisexual vampires on bloody ego trips.  [Maybe Jesus was a vampire?--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     Unreality TV show ratings are down across the board.  Oh, Really?  That's got to come as a complete surprise to everyone in The Industry, and by The Industry, I mean the Business.  After all, the only sure way to have a death-lock on continued success as a broadcaster is to saturate a market with cheaply produced, unoriginal fare.  [We want to see more murder-mystery-lawyer-medical-examiner-hospital-Orange-County TV.--Eds.]

     Bad weather prevented Martha Stewart from attending a charity pumpkin race in Nova Scotia.  "Certainly, everybody was a little disappointed," said spokeswoman Vanessa Roberts.  Vanessa, Go Take a Nap!  You know that's not true.  I'm just guessing there were more than a handful of people that were quite delighted that that cold bitch and convicted federal felon didn't show up.  [We like her decorating ideas--they're fun!--Eds.]

     Fans of Harry Potter, er, complete and total losers who don't have a strong grasp of reality, staged their own fake college for wizards in Salem, Massachusetts, yes, the same Salem where they burnt witches.  There were classes on spell writing, on how Harry Potter interfaces with Christianity, and on economics in the world of wizardry.  One visitor, Michelle d'Entremont, 25, said that "The wonderful thing about Harry Potter fans is that we do indeed know the difference between fantasy and reality. We just choose to occasionally ignore it."  Um.  Okay.  Well here's some reality you can occasionally choose to ignore, Michelle: you're a freaking nerd with a quavering grasp of reality.  And if you want to ignore reality, why not just watch more TV?  [Or read more Harry Potter books?--Eds.]

     Rod Stewart "is looking forward to new challenges" in his career.  I've got a challenge for you, Rod: I challenge you to retire.

     Jude Law and Sienna Miller have called off their engagement, just a few short months after everyone in the known world learned he'd been porking the help.  Sienna, Go Take a Nap!  You coulda fought through a little pre-nuptial infidelity.  After all, it's not like marriage was going to stop Jude from porking the help.  You just gotta let the man be the man.  And in return, you get to pork the new James Bond, Daniel Craig.  It's a win-win situation.  [It's all about the angles.--Eds.]

     Speaking of the new James Bond, Daniel Craig, can anyone say George Lazenby?

     Sylvester Stallone said he's going to make Rocky VI.  For you non-Romans, VI is Roman for 6 six seis sechs sei the 6th sixième sechste sesto sexto.  It used to be a funny joke to refer in the late 80's to Rocky VIII, which is eight (eight) 8, ocho.  Now it's not funny.  It's reality.  And he's not done there.  Sly is going to make Rambo IV, four (four) 4.  The numbering system of the Rambo movies never made sense, though.  The first one was called First Bood.  The second one was called Rambo: First Blood Part II, and the third was called Rambo III.  What, did they skip Rambo II: First Blood Part III?  And shouldn't they make Rambo III: First Blood Part IV before they can make Rambo IV: First Blood Part V?

     And in news that is bound to depress white spoiled suburban tweener girls across the Western World, Mary-Kate Olsen is dropping out of NYU after just one year, because she's too busy diving into piles of money.  Mary-Kate, Go Take a Nap!  You need to lead by example and finish what you started!  You're going to trigger a whole generation of women who go to NYU for a year and then drop out because it's more fun to dive head-first into piles of cash.  [Maybe college wasn't her thing.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

    Robbie Williams, not Robin, said that the media treatment of Kate Moss's cocaine binge is unfair.  For those that don't remember, Kate was caught snorting five lines of cocaine in an hour.  Robbie said that he wouldn't be surprised if Kate tried suicide last week, and he went on to say that "What she does in her private life should be her private life."  Robbie, Go Take a Nap!  Her life ceased to be private as soon as she "earned" her millions for doing nothing other than being born with what fashion designers consider good looks.  Maybe she can buy herself an ice cream cone and take a long Calgon moment with a high-powered vibrator.  [Maybe she needs to switch to downers.--Eds.]

     And Robbie Williams made news in another way.  He said that his lack of success in the United States doesn't surprise him, and he doesn't care, and he hasn't even really tried.  It's easier to say you don't care than to admit you suck, I suppose (not that the U.S. is well known for its sense of taste, but I think we got this one right).

     Nicolas Cage named his son Kal-el Coppola Cage.  For you non-dorks among the Interweb, Kal-el is the birth name of Superman, way back when Marlon Brando gave birth to him on the Planet Krypton.  Normally I'd say that the kid had no chance, but I realized quickly that whatever mockery he's subjected to at school, it will all be better when he rolls around in his family's money and gravy trains a career in Hollywood, probably winning an Oscar for something along the way.  Then I thought, will he name future siblings in a similar fashion?  Like Peter Parker Coppola Cage?  Dick Grayson Coppola Cage?  Adam West Coppola Cage?  Or maybe he'll name his next child after Heidi Klum's latest kid, Henry Guenther Ademola Dashtu Samuel Coppola Cage?  [We like Darth Sidious/Emperor Palpatine Coppola Cage.--Eds.]

     Ashlee Simpson apparently actually sang on SNL last week, just like a big girl!  No tape delays, no lip synching, no nuthin'.  Way to go, Ashlee!  Maybe you'll couple that actual singing with some actual talent someday.  Er.  I guess it doesn't matter.  Just take the money while it's there and laugh your way into your early thirties with a cocaine habit like Kate Moss.  [Celebrity is fickle, like the wind.--Eds.]

     Esquire says Jessica Biel is the sexiest woman alive.  Yah, she be all hot an' shit, but they musta forgot to consider Brett Somers.

By Jack Jackson

    Kate Moss is now "devastated" that her cocaine habit has caused her to lose her contracts with H&M, Burberry, and Chanel.  Kate, Go Take a Nap!  Maybe you should see if there are any video cameras rolling the next time you want to snort five lines of cocaine in an hour.  Oh, and by the way, your career is now over.

     In other news, Kate Moss has checked herself into rehab to seek treatment for her cocaine habit.  I have a better idea.  Why not try cutting back a little, like only doing, say, four lines of cocaine each hour?  Then next month, go down to three per hour.  A month later, two per hour.  A month after that, only one line of cocaine per hour.  [We think seeing the new Doom movie would be a good idea, too.--Eds.]

     Edward Norton says his latest character, a British doctor in 1920's China, is just like America because his character is always trying to force his methods on other countries.  Edward, Go Take a Nap!  That analogy just doesn't work.  For the analogy to work, your character would have to invade countries in the name of freedom, kill for the sake of life, and be hated across the world for it.  [Why do you hate our freedoms?--Eds.]

     O.J. Simpson was paid to sign pictures of himself for $95 at NecroComicon, a convention devoted to horror-themed comic books.  Only twelve non-media people attending the convention bothered to go meet him.  I'm not sure where the comedy stops or starts here.  First off, if this was a horror-themed comic book convention, shouldn't O.J. at least have a big sharp knife to threaten people with?  [He should be out looking for the real killers of Ron and Nicole.--Eds.]  Second, the last time I checked, dorks who read horror-themed comic books aren't necessarily into the NFL or its ex-running backs.  And lastly, what kind of dumbfuck would pay $95 for an autographed picture of anyone?  [We proudly display our autographed picture of Hal Linden above our mantel, and it was $102 on eBay.--Eds.]

     And Tara Reid says she doesn't like that she has been stereotyped as a party girl based on her previous movies.  Tara, Go Take a Nap!  If you don't want to be considered a party girl, maybe you shouldn't sign on to movies like American Pie, American Pie 2, Josie and the Pussycats, and Van Wilder.  [She should sign on to more movies like Deep Throat.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

    H&M did the right thing this week by dumping that coke fiend Kate Moss from their ads.  The H&M spokeswoman Liv Asarnoj said that "after evaluating the situation, we have decided that a campaign with Kate Moss is not consistent with H&M's clear disassociation from drugs."  Er, what Ms. Asarnoj meant to say was that after reading last week's issue of Go Take a Nap!, H&M came to its senses and realized I was right.  To reiterate, a supermodel who snorts five lines of cocaine in forty minutes isn't about to quit anytime soon.  [We snorted a whole roll of ground up Smarties in an hour once.--Eds.]

     But it gets worse for Kate Moss.  Chanel will not renew its contract with her, and it ends at the end of October.  However, Chanel will continue to run its ads which feature Moss.  Chanel, Go Take a Nap!  What kind of half-assed message is that?  Does it mean you don't like cocaine, but you're OK with it until the contract runs?  [Maybe they found a supermodel who doesn't get caught when she snorts coke.--Eds.]

     The United States Supreme Court, better known for its decisions ending segregation in public schools and halting presidential elections, has decided to hear the case of Anna Nicole Smith and just how much money she deserves from the estate of her dead, rich, Texas sugar daddy.  The issue, from what I gather, is whether federal courts have jurisdiction over probate matters which Congress may or may not have given federal courts power to hear.  [We just want to know what part of the moon her tits came from.--Eds.]  Supreme Court of the United States, Go Take a Nap!  You've got better things to do than to settle disputes between rich people, don't you?

     And a fair warning to any famous people: the FBI is watching.  See for yourself at the FBI online reading room.

By Jack Jackson

    Four out of five Americans believe that there are too many unreality TV shows on the air right now, according to a recent AP-TV Guide poll.  The same amount believe that unreality shows are mostly fake.  At first these numbers were comforting, but then I realized that if 80% believe there are too many, then 20% must think that the amount of unreality TV is just right.  But then I read more of the article and it said that 4% of the American Going Public think that there is NOT ENOUGH unreality TV.  That means that 16% of 300 million people, or roughly 48 million people, are thoroughly pleased with the amount of unreality TV on the air, and 4% of 300 million people, or roughly 12 million people, would like to see MORE unreality TV.  That means roughly 60 million people are either happy with the amount of unreality TV or would like to see more.  In 2004, George W. Bush received an alleged 62 million votes.  COINCIDENCE?  I think not.  [Ohio has roughly 12 million people.--Eds.]

     Heidi Klum named her new baby son Henry Guenther Ademola Dashtu Samuel.  Heidi, Go Take a Nap!  You get three names, not five.  If you have five, you've got to either hyphenate some of them or delete some of them to get it down to three.  [What should Cher and Charo do?--Eds.

     Kate Moss, a model-to-be for H&M, has apologized to H&M for getting caught on videotape doing five lines of cocaine in forty minutes.  H&M said it strongly disapproves of her action, but she's going to stay on as model because she promised to abide by a company policy that she stay "healthy, wholesome, and sound."  H&M, Go Take a Nap!  The kind of supermodel who does five lines of cocaine in forty minutes isn't about to stop anytime soon.  Way to drop the ball on this and backhandedly encourage heavy cocaine use by continuing to let Kate model for you.

By Jack Jackson

    Ang Lee's newest movie, Brokeback Mountain, won top honors at the Venice International Film Festival.  The film features Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal as gay cowboys in Wyoming in the 1960s.  Apparently, Heath was a little apprehensive about the screenplay, especially after hearing he'd have to kiss Jake.  "It scared the hell out of me," Ledger said, "And I didn't want to kiss Jake Gyllenhaal."  Heath, Go Take a Nap!  What's wrong with gettin' a little man-puss now and then?  [We'd kiss Jake if it meant we could pork his sister.--Eds.]

     Los Angeles will develop a tsunami evacuation plan, after seeing how well New Orleans handled Katrina.  I have an idea.  Everyone should head for the mountains, you know, where that Hollywood sign is?

     Richard Hatch, unreality uncelebrity, was indicted for not paying taxes on his $1Million prize for "winning" Survivor.  Here's a piece of advice for the future Survivor winners: someone, maybe even more than a few people at the IRS, will see you win $1Million, and they'll be looking for it on your tax return.

By Jack Jackson

    Slipknot is upset at Burger King for running ads featuring a fake metal band named Coq Roq.  The ads are for Burger King's new BK Chicken Fries.  The Chicken Fries have been described as a chicken strip crossed with a French fry.  They come with something called Buffalo sauce.  [It should be called moon sauce, cuz that's where it comes from.--Eds.]  One Interweb reviewer stated they look like "fried tampons."

There's something wrong with this country.

     Actress Rachel Weisz, some actress I've never heard of before, was "deeply moved" at how poor Kenya is when she filmed her latest movie there.  Rachel, Go Take a Nap!  What do you want, a cookie?

     On a lighter note, Michael Jackson was impressed by Dubai on his visit there.  I'm not making this shit up, I swear.

     And Quentin Tarantino was thrilled to ride a few NASCAR laps.  He described it as "incredible" and "adrenaline."

     And I finally saw Million Dollar Baby, or what I'm now calling Ten-Buck Turd Baby.  Why anyone would want to make such a horrible, contrived, and depressing movie is beyond me.  And then you've got those freaks of the Academy throwing Oscars at it.  Whatever happened to the days when you'd leave a movie feeling good about yourself?

By Jack Jackson

    Courtney Love tearfully admitted to using drugs in violation of her probation and the judge sent her back to rehab.  Courtney, Go Take a Nap!  Quit admitting to using drugs.  Just do the drugs and lie.  It's obvious you like doing drugs and you'll never get over them.

     Skylar Deleon, a former child actor who once appeared as an extra on Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, has been charged, along with his wife, in a 2003 Mexico murder, whereby a man was lured to a side of a road and his neck was cut.  The funny part about this is that this is the second murder conspiracy he and his wife have been involved with.  Apparently, Skylar and wifey also killed a married couple from Newport Beach after pretending to be interested in buying their yacht.  The couple agreed to take Skylar and wifey out for a ride, and then Skylar and wifey allegedly used stun guns on the couple, handcuffed them, gagged them with duct tape, tied them to the boat's anchor, made them sign over power of attorney, and tossed them overboard to drown.  The moral of the story?  Don't let your kids be extras on the Power Rangers.  [We blame violent video games, gay marriage, and Tangerine Sours from Altoids.--Eds.]

     Hunter S. Thompson's ashes were blown into the sky with some fireworks, as per his request.  "He loved explosions," said his wife.  I guess that explains it.

     After coaching his son's youth football team for two years, Snoop Dogg has started a new youth league all his own and has taken many players from the original league, all allegedly as part of an unreality movie.  This has upset the old league, of course.  Old League, Go Take a Nap!  It's way cooler to play with Snoop Dogg and be part of an unreality movie.  Did you honestly expect people to stay loyal to your league?

By Jack Jackson

    Lance Armstrong suggested that our government ought to spend more money on the War Against Cancer, carefully clarifying that he was "not saying that spending on wars and terrorism is a bad thing."  Well if the government is taking suggestions, I would like to see more money spent on the War Against Caring About What Lance Armstrong Thinks.  Yeah, I know, I can't even bike two flat miles with both of my testicles without puking, let alone uphill one mile with one testicle.  But why does anyone care about what a cyclist has to say on government spending, even if he's the best in the world?  [We would like to know what Rafael Palmeiro thinks about spending more on the War Against Steroids.--Eds.]

     Jerry Lee Lewis' home is now closed to the public.  Nope.  No more tours for the American Going Public.  Don't worry, because you can "still drive by and see it," said Kim Terrell, DeSoto County Tourism Association Director.  Kim Terrell, Go Take a Nap!  Driving by someone's home is not the same as getting a tour.  [We're going to load up the Winnebago and go see it.--Eds.]

     It was revealed this week that just before Die Gauleiter of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger, entered the recall race against Gray Davis in 2003 that American Media, the publishing company which owns such bastions of truth as the National Enquirer, paid off a woman $20,000 to keep her from disclosing any details of her alleged affair with Arnie.  Later that year, American Media signed Arnie to be editor of two of its fitness magazines for $1million per year for at least five years.  When I was originally thinking of some jokes to say about this, I thought it would be funny to suggest that I would also be willing to keep my affair with Arnie quiet for $20,000, but then I thought it would be funnier if I suggested that I would gladly be the editor of those two fitness magazines for a mere $900K per year for at least five years.  Then I thought about how busy an editor gets and how he couldn't possibly be both Gauleiter of California and editor of two fitness magazines.  And then I realized that this kind of fascist politicking isn't funny anymore.

     And Bill Murray is negotiating the price of selling out to be the voice of Garfield in Garfield 2.  I see how this works for Bill now.  Sell out, then do an art film, then sell out, and do an art film.  Repeat a few times, and show up at Wrigley once in awhile.  I need to talk to my agent, because there's no selling out in my career yet.

By Jack Jackson

    The Catholic Church's World Youth Cay wants Mel Gibson to recreate the crucifixion of Christ in Sydney in 2008.  Isn't that what happened in Passion?  Why not just rent the movie?  Catholic Church, Go Take a Nap!  Can't you Catholics get over the whole crucifixion thing?  Jesus!  Get over the past!  The crucifixion is oh-so 1st Century.   And if any of you plan on attending this event in the highly likely event that it happen, I suggest you take whatever plastic sheeting you might take to a Gallagher concert, because it's gonna be messy.  [Crucifixions can get that way.--Eds.]

     A fire destroyed Marie Osmond's garage.  There were no injuries, but apparently her talent and career were inside the garage at the time of the fire.

     And with that zinger, I return to my vacation.

By Jack Jackson

    Lauren Bacall said Tom Cruise was not a great actor and that Nicole Kidman cannot be a legend yet because she's too young.  Lauren, Go Take a Nap!  I mean, yeah, you're right about Tom sucking and Nicole not being a legend, but Jeebus, can't you keep your holier-than-thou bullshit out of the media?  Er.  I mean, keep it comin', you 80-year-old bag!  This is the kind of celebrity feud that really gets me hard.  I can't wait to see how that batshit nutz, cult-loving Tom Cruise reacts.  [Hal Linden was a great, legendary actor.--Eds.]

     Ricky Martin, a native Puerto Rican, told Arab youths in Jordan that he wants to be their spokesperson, someone to defend them against the stereotypes that all Arabs are terrorists.  Ricky, Go Take a Nap!  Not even Michael Jackson himself could help Arab kids beat the stereotypes placed on them, let alone a no-talent hack who isn't even from Araby.  [What if Abe Vigoda wanted to be their spokesperson?--Eds.]  If you want people to stop stereotyping each other, encourage them to stop watching the TV, stop listening to the radio, start burning all their Ricky Martin tapes, and start trying to be decent people.

     Christo, that no-talent "artist" who gets pumped about draping big things with big pieces of fabric and setting up the occasional large death-causing umbrella, told reporters last week that he'd like to cover the Arkansas River for about 20 miles with "huge pieces of clear fabric."  He claimed he thought of the idea nearly twelve years ago.  Christo, Go Take a Nap!  You may have hoodwinked New York into feeding your ego with The Gates, but those Arkansans are going to be a little tougher to please.  I imagine the conversation to go something like this:

Christo: I want to get a few permits to drape huge pieces of clear fabric over your river.
Native Arkansan: *whittling wood* What tha hell yew wanna do tha' fer?
Christo: Because I am a no-talent artist with a bunch of money and I need to feed my ego like a little attention-craving puppy dog.
Native Arkansan: Uh.  How we gonna be abla ta see it?  Yew know, with tha' clear fabric an' all?
Christo: You cannot possibly understand the great vision that I have.  No one understands me!  Will this world never appreciate my work, my completely socially valuable and excellent work which is the product of the peak of the mind of the best artist ever?
Native Arkansan: Nope.

     A birthday card which Jennifer Aniston wrote on toilet paper will not, repeat, not, be put up for sale on eBay.  You celebrity-toilet-paper-birthday-card fetishists are shit out of luck.  [We just bought a 3-D Dorito shaped like Tony Randall.--Eds.]

     And finally, the movie prop lightsaber (nerds, read that part about it being a "movie prop" again) fetched $200,600 at a charity auction last week.  I'll have to re-read Revelations again, because I'm not sure whether that means the fourth or the fifth seal is broken.

By Jack Jackson

    Colin Farrell doesn't want his ex-girlfriend, Nicole Narain, to commercially distribute a 15-minute video of the two having sex.  [Does he mind if it's a non-commercial distribution?--Eds.]  Colin claims that they had agreed the video would be "strictly for their own viewing pleasure."  Colin, Go Take a Nap!  One man's porn is another man's porn, I always say.  And I'm sure you can get a cut of the proceeds.  I mean, it must be a good sex tape since your ex-girl Nicole supposedly says to the camera: "I could do this breakfast, lunch, and dinner."  And she must have a nice pussy because you allegedly say to the camera: "Baby, you have the most beautiful pussy."  And besides, you violated rule number one when it comes to not wanting your sex tapes for sale: DON'T FILM YOUR SEX.

     Speaking of male celebrity sex foibles, Jude Law publicly apologized to his fiancée for porking one of his babies' nannies.  [Did he ever apologize in private?--Eds.]  I can imagine his fiancée is pleased as punch about all of this.  First, everyone finds out her future hubby has been porking the help, then everyone finds out that he's sorry about all of it.  Jude, Go Take a Nap!  You're not sorry.  You loved every second of it.  Just be glad you didn't film it.  [We hear the nanny has the most beautiful pussy.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

    J.K. Rowling said she looks forward to completing the seventh and final Harry Potter book with dread.  "I do love writing the books and it is going to be a shock, a profound shock to me," she said.  J.K., Go Take a Nap!  The shock isn't that you won't be writing them, it's that you won't be getting a huge paycheck anymore.  [What about all the royalties and the movie options?--Eds.]  And if you can't take it, I'm guessing you'll be able to crap out another seven books.  So cheer up.  It's not so bad.

     Victor Edward Willis, the policeman of the Village People, got caught with a gun and drugs in his car.  Not only that, but in his trailer park home in Daly City they found traces of crack and other paraphernalia.  Policeman from the Village People, Go Take a Nap!  You shouldn't be doing drugs.  I mean, you were the policeman, you know, the policeman from the Village People!  You need to cheer up.  It's not so bad.

     Disneyland celebrated it's 50th year of shafting visitors with high prices.  What did people have to say?  Die Gauleiter of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger said, "This is an engine that drives California tourism and our economy.  Thank you for 50 wonderful years."
     What about Jaime Lucero, 57, of Las Cruces, N.M.?  He said "It's everything America stands for - imagination, ingenuity, commerce."
     What about Janet Kazarian, 54?  She said "We may not always ride the rides, but we enjoy it.  When we come, I think it just makes us grateful to be alive."
     And how much does it cost to get inside this engine driving California's economy, this pinnacle of imagination, ingenuity, and commerce, this park which makes some people grateful to be alive?  $56.  [That's 224 tacos on cheap taco night.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

    Nike resumed using Kobe Bryant's image to sell its swoosh shit.  That's good to know because I wasn't buying enough Nike shit for the past two years.  Now that I know Kobe is officially persona grata again, I can go to my local Foot Locker and buy me some Nike shit and wear it so people officially know that I am a peckerhead who will gladly be a mindless consumer and unwitting walking advertisement for a company profiting on child labor.  Er.  What does Cynthia Stone, spokeswoman for the Colorado Coalition Against Sexual Assault have to say about it all?  "Corporations like Nike play a huge part in creating role models for millions of young athletes," Stone said.  Uh-oh.  If corporations are the basis for the role models of our young athletes, we could be in trouble.

     On a more personal note: I was driving to get me a haircut the other day and on a little billboard there was an advertisement for facials.  Then I saw one down the street for smoothies.  Jesus!  What's next?  An advertisement for insertions?  I swear, this kind of advertising wouldn't even be thinkable if Ike were still President.

     Jackie Chan is blaming Chris Tucker for the holdup in the much anticipated third installment of the wildly awesome Rush Hour series of movies.  Chris, Go Take a Nap!  I mean, why you be hatin' an' shit?  Can't we just get this important foundation of American cinema completed?  I mean, we gots to get us a trilogy or we won't have a full circle of Rush Hour movies.  [We hope the holdup is that he wants it to be Rush Hour 3-D.--Eds.]

     Leonardo DiCaprio bought himself an island called Blackadore Caye, supposedly to start a resort.  An unnamed friend said Leo "wants to make money without destroying the environment."  Leo, Go Take a Nap!  You want an eco-friendly resort in the middle of an ocean?  How are you going to get all the equipment there to build?  How the hell do you expect visitors to get to your island?  By slave-powered galleons?  [They can all drive their Toyota Prii over a pontoon of Nike's child laborers.--Eds.]

     MTV plans to air ten (10) commercial-free hours of the Live 8 concert because so many viewers complained about all the commercials and interviews the first time around.  Honey!  Fire up the adult diapers and tap that pony keg of Busch Light, 'cuz we ain't goin' nowhere for ten hours!

By Jack Jackson

    Justin Timberlake might star in a movie with Christina Ricci called Black Snake Moan, a movie about "an ex-blues musician who serves as a father-figure of a sex-addicted girl."  Justin, Go Take a Nap!  Your first starring role shouldn't be opposite of a sex-addicted girl!  What will all the teenage girls think?  That you masturbate and went down on Britney Spears?  Is that what you want them to think?  [We like movies about sex-addicted girls.--Eds.]

     Hollywood box office receipts are down for the 18th week straight, the longest streak recorded.  I wonder what could be causing it?  Is it the fact that going to a movie and getting a popcorn costs the same as buying the DVD?  Or is it that you always end up sitting in front of some heavy-breathing lard ass who thinks he's Roger Ebert doing a running commentary of the film?  Or is it the twenty minutes of ads for Coke, pants, and cars that turns the American Going Public away?  Or is it the movies themselves?  Let's see what's being released during this slump: the unnecessary "remakes" of Bewitched, The Honeymooners, The Longest Yard, Herbie: Fully Loaded, and House of Wax.  [When will they remake Deep Throat?--Eds.]

     MTV is fueling America's desire for more unreality TV.  The proposed projects are "a series about a Queens, N.Y., barbershop that cultivates hip-hop talent, with Sony Music CEO Tommy Mottola serving as an executive producer; former Jackass star Ryan Dunn helping wronged souls get revenge; former O-Town singer Ashley Park Angel's attempts at a comeback; MTV News correspondent Gideon Yago helping kids in crisis; a reality soap featuring Miami Beach models; and a vehicle for former public-access star Jake Fogelnest."  MTV, Go Take a Nap!  All that shit sux.  You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.  Go to your room, and don't come out until you think of a show that involves creativity and social value and doesn't pander to the mindless consumerist culture.  [We want to watch Gideon Yago helping kids in crisis.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

    Deep Throat turned out to be an FBI man.  Robert Redford said that he figured that Deep Throat was probably connected to the FBI.  Robert, Go Take a Nap!  Way to go out on a limb with that guess.  I mean, saying that Deep Throat was probably connected to the FBI is like saying Al Capone probably had a mafia connection.

     One of the Jacko jurors attended a casino party in Jacko's honor, but Jacko wasn't there.  Jacko, Go Take a Nap!  If you're going to have a party at a casino in your honor, you better attend!  And what the hell kind of way is it to celebrate an acquittal from child molestation charges by tossing a casino party?  [Why weren't we invited?--Eds.]

     That's all I got.  Nothing else worth talking about happened last week.

By Jack Jackson

    Paris Hilton and her mom will be the grand marshals for West Hollywood's annual gay pride parade.  West Hollywood and Hiltons, Go Take a Nap!  I mean, Paris Hilton says gay pride just about as much as Josef Goebbels says Jewish pride.  Or better yet, why not have Liberace be the grand marshal for the Orange County straight pride parade?  [We think this would be inappropriate because we would have to pry the baton out of Liberace's cold, dead hands after it was all said and done.--Eds.]

     Side note: have you all seen these new items called Oral-B Brushups [link]?  You're not getting me to put one of those on my finger and brush my teeth!  I know where that finger's been!

     VH1, in their incessant fetish with lists and rehashing of pop culture's past, named Gary Coleman as the top, out of 100, "child star."  VH1, Go Take a Nap!  Everyone knows that the top child star is Baby Leroy from the W.C. Fields movies.  And can we please, just for a month or two, stop making lists?  [Do we have to stop work on our top 100 favorite ways to promote mindless consumerism?--Eds.]

     Queen Elizabeth II celebrated her 79th birthday.  British subjects, you'll have to forgive my ignorance, but I honestly don't know if we're celebrating the coronation of the ocean liner, that pile of bones and dust called Queen Mum, or that pasty-white woman that Cate Blanchett and the female M played.  And I don't like soccer, or futbol, or whatever the hell that lame-ass boring game you deem fit to riot over.  I do enjoy your beers and I like darts, though.  [We don't like boiled kidneys or blood pudding.--Eds.]

     Katie Holmes "digs" Scientology, according to Tom Cruise.  Tom Cruise, Go Take a Nap!  Way to indoctrinate another celebrity into a cult of money.  I mean, what says religion and faith better than "pay us a bunch of money and you will be enlightened"?  [We will enlighten you for just $10,000 per month.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

    Nothing happened in the world of celebrity this week, not a damn thing, so I'm left with having to give you my drunken, stream-of-consciousness bullshit review of Attack of the Money Attack: Episode III: Buy More Attack Revenge Clone Phantom Return.

     So I broke down and bought an online ticket, not Fandango, cuz I refuse to let that word show up on my credit card bill, and I'm not even worried about someone else seeing it, but I think I'd be embarrassed, or at least my criminally insane alter ego might be embarrassed when they get a bill that says "Fandago...$7" and that wouldn't be so bad except I paid the goddamned $7 for a matinee, which would've normally been $6 but I wouldn't've even had to spend that $7 if I'd gone to a regular showing because my student I.D. still works to get me the student discount even though I just graduated (tee-hee) and I feel like something of a whore to the corporate world by donating the extra $1 to an unidentifiable "convenience fee" by charging the damn ticket online and so I assure myself of a seat to a showing at 1pm on opening day, when I'm pretty sure no teenagers will be there.  No.  Just a bunch of adult losers like me who either have no job or have such a lame job or are so replaceable that they can take off from work at a moment's notice and see a movie instead of answering a phone call from a potential client and lying their asses off about how great their new line of lies is.

     Am I a Star Wars freak or fan or nerd?  I cannot deny that I wanted to be Luke Skywalker at one point in my juvenile life.  I cannot deny that one of my first memories was waiting in line around the block to see The Empire Strikes Back.  So after the first "prequels" I felt a sense of compulsion, not desire, to see this final installment, this "completion" of a hexalogy, this explanation or apology or whatever it is that Lucas wanted us to know about Darth Vader/Anakin/Emperor.  I had long had dreams or lucid dreams or unrealities of what this movie was going to be.  I predicted it much in my sleepiness, my awakenness, my lack of consciousness.  And I was right.  It was as it is as it always was.  A movie, this, moneymaker designed to be it was.  Always Lucas mind in his, toys, and licensing are.

     But does that mean I can pass it along as a great disappointment?  No.  I cannot.  Although Yoda's lightsaber battling still conjures up the imagery of a Mexican jumping bean dancing in a little plastic box, the battling was satisfying.  Satisfying.  That is all.  Fantastic?  No.  Enjoyable?  Yes.  Satisfying?  Absolutely.

     Can someone explain why Anakin's robes burst into flames?  I mean, you'd think they'd've developed fire-retarded clothing.  And I cannot be apologetic for the terrible dialogue, but when the universe is at stake, don't you think you'd be saying some really stupid shit, too?

By Jack Jackson

     In honor of all the celebrities who have gone and took a dirt nap, we ask that you observe this column in a moment of silence.

By Jack Jackson

     Warren Beatty said he will not run for governor against Arnold Schwarzenegger in California in 2006, but he also said he "would do one hell of a lot better job" than Arnie.  Warren, Go Take a Nap!  How can you possibly do a better job than the Terminator?  After all, he promised to blow up all the bureaucratic boxes of the California government.  Let's see you even try to do that.  And he called the his Democratic detractors in the California legislature "girlie men."  I bet you couldn't possibly come up with any better quips.

     Donald Trump and some other insane freaks [maybe just profit-driven freaks?--Eds.] are working on a musical for Broadway based on The Apprentice.  I better tell my concierge to make the reservations right now.  I mean, what better way could I possibly spend a couple of hours than to fuel one man's egomaniacal dreams and pocketbook?  We should spend more time putting people like Donald Trump on pedestals to worship, because he sets such a shining example for us poor people to follow.  [We like his hair.--Eds.]

     Motley Crue singer Vince Neil has decided to invest in winemaking, and he's calling it Vince Vineyards.  He shocked the wine world with his clever choices for his first wines: Napa cabernet and Sonoma chardonnay.  However, Vince himself "will have little to do with the actual winemaking."  Vince, Go Take a Nap!  That's not fair to name your wine after yourself if you're not going to actually do any of the work.  How can we be assured of its quality if we have no idea just how much of your talent went into each bottle?

By Jack Jackson

     Brad Pitt told GQ magazine that he doesn't understand "the idea that marriage has to be for all time" when he talked about his split with Jennifer Aniston.  Brad, Go Take a Nap!  The point of marriage is that you're declaring to be with someone for the rest of your life.  Or maybe not.  I guess he's right.  You know, people these days get married after a good bender in Vegas, propose to each other at ball games, and if this gay marriage thing keeps blowing up all over, we'll all be marrying our own pets or favorite material objects.  [We married our asses.  Do you want to kiss the bride?--Eds.]

     Paris Hilton, that undeservedly rich and no-talent star of House of Wax, who most adult males of the American-going public have seen get poked in the hoo-ha while surfing the Inter-ma-web with one hand, is now taking the high road of selling out and will pimp spicy hamburgers for Carl's Jr.  She will drive a Bentley, eat a bit of a spicy hamburger, and say "That's hot."  Paris, Go Take a Nap!  First of all, no one seriously believes that you eat hamburgers, let alone eat at Carl's Jr.  And second, I don't care what kind of car you drive up in to eat a hamburger--I'm not doing what you or the TV tells me to do.  [We've seen Jack go through the Wendy's drive-thru window late.--Eds.]

     Samuel L. Jackson said growing up he always wanted to be part of comic book heroic action on screen and always wanted to be in a Star Wars movie.  Oh, Really?  I guess it all worked out, then.

       Eminem signed some bricks as part of a charity auction to help restore his old 8 Mile neighborhood.  Most of the bricks will be auctioned on eBay.  I think that an 8 Mile brick will go perfect on my shelves, next to all my other charity autograph bricks, like my commemorative Hal Linden brick commemorating the hundredth episode of Barney Miller, and my Herve Villechaize brick he signed just before he committed suicide after hearing Randy Newman songs, and my Gene Rayburn brick commemorating the one thousandth time Richard Dawson appeared on TV drunk.

By Jack Jackson

     [This week's Go Take a Nap! will be in the format of Oh, Really?]

     Chris Rock told reporters that he'd like to host the Oscars again next year.  Oh, Really?  You mean you'd like to host the show that puts you on TV in every country and you get to make fun of celebrities for four hours?  Memo to the Academy: I'd like to host the Oscars next year, too.  And I promise to make fun of celebrities.  I mean, I really, really, really promise to make fun of celebrities.  I've got a suit, but not a tuxedo, so I'll probably have to rent one from the Men's Warehouse.  Oh, and I don't do cocaine, but I'd be willing to try some if it helped me fit in.  [We think Jack Jackson would be a fine, fine host of the Oscars.--Eds.]

     Jerry Lewis has blabbed that Frank Sinatra indeed had very close mafia ties.  Oh, Really?  Because I thought he earned his career through his great singing voice and heavy drinking.  Lewis said that Sinatra acted as a bag man and messenger for the mafia, and nearly got caught at customs with $3.5M in a suitcase.  Can someone say "made-for-TV movie"?  [Made-for-TV movie.--Eds.]

     Two moms testified on behalf of Michael Jackson last week, claiming he is trustworthy, so trustworthy that they had no problems letting their sons sleep with Jacko.  Oh, Really?  Because I define trust in a different way, I guess.  Trust is knowing that at the tender age of ten, your parents won't let you sleep with Jacko.  That's the kind of trust I want.

By Jack Jackson

     Elton John will marry his 11-year partner, David Furnish, "later this year or early next year," according to Elton's publicist.  Elton, Go Take a Nap!  You been dating the guy eleven years and you want to string him along until early next year?  It's time to make that boy a man!  [And after they get married, they can finally sleep in the same bed.--Eds.]

     Tammy Faye Messner, who the world only remembers as Tammy Faye Bakker, claims it was a "liberating experience" to lose her eyelashes after chemotherapy for colon cancer.  "I realized I wasn't just eyelashes," said Tammy Faye.  Tammy Faye, Go Take a Nap!  It's not liberating to lose one's eyelashes!  Your eyelashes serve a very important function!  They allow you to know when something is about to touch your eye and give you time to blink before it does.  [And if you crimp them and dye them, you can improve your chances of bagging men.--Eds.]

     Chris Klein, Pink's Rollerball [remake] co-star, plead guilty to a drunken driving charge and now faces 150 hours of community service.  How about this for starters: apologize personally to everyone who paid their hard-earned cash to see the Rollerball remake at the theater.  Then how about apologizing personally to everyone who rented it.  Then personally apologize to those poor people who paid for it on pay-per-view.  [We would like to see a Senior Center visit with the hand-bell choir.--Eds.]

     The Dave Matthews Band wiped away one lawsuit which grew out of their butts from their poo-and-pee-pee dumping incident over the Chicago River.  For those of you who don't remember, the touring bus vacated its bowels over the bridge and it plopped (tee and or hee) onto the unwitting architectural-tour tourists below.  They've agreed to crap out $200K for environmental cleanup funds in Chicago.  Dave Matthews Band, Go Take a Crap!  Just don't crap on tourists next time.  [The band members weren't actually on that bus at the time.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     Tony Danza surprised a college student by showing up to see her Italian II presentation on none other than Tony himself.  Of course, it wasn't an act of charity.  He filmed the whole thing as a put on for his shit-ball TV show.  Tony, Go Take a Nap!  Next time you show up unannounced, I just dare you to do it without your camera crew.  [No one would want that.--Eds.]

     Shar Jackson [no relation], ex-girlfriend of Britney Spears' hubby, says she's not surprised to learn he filled Britney up with his man-seed and made her swell with his love-child.  I guess I'm not so shocked, either.  After all, when two sexually active adults get married, the occasional union of spermatozoon and ovum is bound to happen at one point or another.  What is surprising, however, is that anyone gives two shits about what Shar Jackson has to say about it.

     Johnny Carson's famous desk microphone sold for just over $50K at an auction in Dallas.  If you do the math, I only need to sell two of those fuckers on eBay and my student loans will disappear.  [Don't forget income tax.--Eds.]

     And Clint Eastwood will pimp out his voice to an upcoming line of Dirty Harry videogames.  "This will be an opportunity to satisfy the many requests over the years to continue the Dirty Harry legacy, only now in the videogame medium," he said.  I couldn't have said it better.

By Jack Jackson

     The newly preggers Britney Spears had to bargain with paparazzi for ten bucks at an ice cream store in Florida last week because neither she, nor her hubby, had enough cash on them to pay their tab.  The bargain?  You guessed it.  Pose for cash.  [We often pose for cash.--Eds.]  Britney and Britney's hubby, Go Take a Nap!  When you go out for ice cream, rule number one is check your pants and make sure there's enough cash there to pay the bill.  If not, gather all your parking and laundry quarters and add 'em up.  If still not enough, go through all of your old birthday cards and see if any of them still have a two-dollar bill in them, or still have the tree full of dimes with the dimes still sandwiched in the card.  If that's still not enough, you'll have to walk to the ice cream store and forego the bus.

     A woman sued Alex Trebek over a lost horse.  Although the story left the details unclear, it appears she delivered the horse to Trebek's farm so it could be filled with the seed of one of Trebek's horses and through the miracle of life crap out a new horse.  [Mr. Jackson's parents never explained the birds or the bees.--Eds.]  Instead of a new horse baby, the woman alleges that the horse got sick and the farm vet killed it.  Alex Trebek's horse farm vet, Go Take a Nap!  How can the miracle of life work when you kill?

     Webster, aka Emmanuel Lewis, smoov-talked himself out of a speeding ticket because the officer who pulled him over, one Ron Kirk, was enamored from seeing a celebrity in person.  He was doing 70mph in a 45mph zone.  What I want to know is how Webster could push the accelerator down far enough to go that fast but still see over the dashboard.  And I also want to know how Ron Kirk would react if he pulled over a real celebrity like the great Hal Linden or Charo or Gabe Kaplan.

By Jack Jackson

     Here's an item I missed from last week: Marlon Brando's deed for his island Onetahi states that Michael Jackson can spend the rest of his natural life on a half-acre because of a birthday party Jacko hosted at Neverland Ranch for Brando's daughter.  The logical question is how will Jacko get all of his shit from Neverland to fit into a half-acre?
     It's an interesting idea, of course, to live a life as one of the most famous pop stars ever, fondle some kids after getting them loose with Jesus Juice, face criminal charges, take off to a tropical isle to live the rest of your life as a sort of admission that maybe things will go better in the next life, maybe be reincarnated on a different planet where everyone looks like a tweener boy and the rivers flow with sequin-studded bottles of Pepsi and whiskey.

     Speaking of Jacko, testimony this week revealed that his code name at Neverland Ranch is Silver Fox and that he had his hand down Macaulay Culkin's pants as early as age eleven.  Jacko, Go Take a Nap!  Don't you know that it's illegal to molest little boys?

     Time released its list of the world's 100 most influential people.  On it were such influential people as Jamie Foxx, The Dalai Lama, and someone who survived the big tsunami.  Um.  Time, Go Take a Nap!  Where are Jesus and Satan?  What about Abe Vigoda and Jared Fogle?  What about the guy who invented crystal meth?

     250 idiots lined up last week at Mann's Wily Chinaman Theater to watch George Lucas Wants More Cash: Star Wars: Episode VI: Revenge of the Sith.  250 idiots, Go Take a Nap!  First, the movie's not playing until May 19th, so maybe you should think about lining up, oh, in May sometime.  That way you can spend more time at home watching Teevee, eating Chee-tohs, and painting pewter figurines.  Second, it's not playing at that theater.  Whoops!  Guess someone is not very strong with The Force.  [Or at least they're not very strong with the telephone.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     While this is not a celebrity item, I feel the need to talk about it anyway.  Burger King unveiled last week a new breakfast sandwich called the Enormous Omelet Sandwich.  I don't understand breakfast in the first place, since I'm never up early enough to eat it, and on those rare occasions that I am, my hangover refuses to let me ingest butter-fried eggs, undercooked bacon, patty sausage, and maple syrup.  I don't really like sandwiches all that much, to be honest.  So you can imagine my horror to learn that there is a new breakfast sandwich, and that it has a sausage patty, two eggs, two slices of American cheese, and three strips of bacon.  This sandwich has 730 calories and 47 grams of fat, both stats exceeding those of a Whopper.  Just the thought is enough to make me dry heave until I puke bile.
     I want to meet the fat fuck who downs this sandwich for breakfast and ask him a few questions.  First of all, do you need to wear adult diapers?  Because if I ate something like that before noon, you can be assured that it won't be too much after noon that it's time to go a-whistlin' Dixie.  Second, if it's grease you need in the morning, wouldn't it be healthier just to eat a handful of Crisco?  [We used all of our Crisco at our last fisting party.--Eds.]  Or how about some vegetables?  Fresh fruit?  And no ranch vegetable dip or cream cheese fruit dip!  I dare you to taste reality!

     Back to celebrity items: Ving Rhames, the new black Kojak, says he never watched Kojak when he was growing up.  Regardless, he's completely willing to take a huge career slide downwards for some cash to play the role in a completely unoriginal and uninspired cop show for USA Networks.  Ving, Go Take a Nap!  Kojak is a white guy.  And black people don't suck on lollipops, anyway.  I mean, you don't see Adam Sandler as the new white Shaft, do you?  It just ain't right.  [We're not racists--we bought Thriller.--Eds.]

     Venus and Serena Williams, the Predator Sisters, have agreed to do their own unreality television show.  The show promises an "up-close, inside look" at their lives away from the tennis courts.  Whooooo-boy!  Honey, set the TiVo!  Wait.  It's too late, I just wet myself.  Besides, I don't think the TiVo has the video quality I'm looking for.  Let's wait for the DVDs to come out.  Or maybe an IMAX translation?  How'm I ever going to get through all of these TV Guides if they keep filling the TV full of such wonderful, compelling shows?

     Johnny Miller, best known for his in-your-face and brutal honesty as a pro golf announcer on NBC, wrote the forward to the new Peanuts book called It's Par for the Course, Charlie Brown.  Is the book about golf and Peanuts characters?  Damn straight.  It's about Snoopy as a professional golfer at the Masters, where he "succumbs to the pressures of a major tournament."  Okay, first of all, Charles Schultz, I thought you'd Went and Took a Dirt Nap.  Or did you rise from the grave just to do one more lame-ass, soft, namby-pamby, WASP-adored, safe cartoon which looks at the wonderful-but-purely-human foibles of suburban America in a caring, yet tongue-in-cheek, pastiche of vignettes and tableaux?
     And Johnny Miller, Go Take a Nap!  You still think you were the best golfer of the late 70's and if I remember right, there were a coupla guys named Watson and Nicklaus who could hand you your hat.

     Arnold Schwarzenegger has gotten fat as der gauleiter of California, leading some to call him The Tuminator.  I see no need for that.  We have a much more obvious nickname for him from history: Goering.

By Jack Jackson

     There's a time when we all must agree on something, and it must be this: fewer stem cells=more feeding tubes.

     We now know that Jacko has quite a porno collection.  He has all kinds of dirty magazines.  Plumpers, Barely Legal, Over 50, and Playboy all make his list.  Wait a minute.  Barely Legal and Over 50?  Is there not some sort of conflict there?  I mean, a man cannot possibly make his bacon with the teen set and the granny porn, can he?  I mean, there has to be some sort of leaning one way or the other, right?  You can't possibly be into hot-ass teens and the DILF set, can you?  Does that make sense?  Jacko, Go Take a Nap!  I've got you figured out.  The Over 50 mags are there along with the Barely Legal mags to cover up your true fetish: Middle-aged women.  We know that Jacko loves the middle-aged women.  Yes.  He loves middle-aged women.  No more secrets now!

     That's all that happened this week in the world of celebrity.  I need to take better notes, I suppose.

By Jack Jackson

     Martha Stewart says her home detention plastic bracelet chafes her ankle.  Martha, Go Take a Nap!  Are you telling me that the woman who can decorate an entire house using used egg cartons can't pull her own head out of her ass long enough to put lotion on her ankle?  I thought you were made of sterner stuff.

     A jury found Robert Blake not guilty of murdering, or at least soliciting to murder, his wife.  Now he can return to his life of jetsetting the Hollywood Boulevard.

     A different jury got to see Jacko's porno collection.  Now, I've long been of the belief that one man's porn is another man's porn, but do we really need to expose what Jacko's into?  I mean, it oughtta be a man's personal choice whether or not he shares his porn with his fellow man.  So, prosecuting attorneys, Go Take a Nap!  Put Jacko's pornos back where they belong: Macaulay Culkin's bed!

     Henry Hill, the onetime wiseguy played by Ray Liotta in Goodfellas, has his own Italian restaurant in a small town called North Platte, Nebraska.  After selling out all of his former buddies, he left the witness protection program to start a new life in the middle of nowhere.  Problem: he got caught with meth and cocaine.  Henry, Go Take a Nap!  How am I going to get up to your restaurant if your in a federal prison?  [We want to hear the saucier say, "I'm stirring!  I'm stirring!"--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     Nick Carter drove around Huntington Beach drunk and got caught.  But he had his publicist make excuses.  She said, "He is on doctor-prescribed medication and was unaware of its interaction possibilities."  Nice one, publicist.  I mean, publicist, Go Take a Nap!  Why can't we start taking responsibility for driving drunk?  [Maybe Jacko slipped him some Jesus Juice while manually stimulating him.--Eds.]

     Speaking of manual stimulation, when did hand-job become "manual stimulation"?  Allegedly, Michael Jackson manually stimulated, and by manually stimulated, I mean gave a hand-job to, a 13-year-old after getting him drunk on Jesus Juice and talking to him about masturbation.  Now, normally, a hand-job is a good thing.  But when Jacko gives you a hand-job and insists that it's "natural," that can really ruin those future hand-jobs from the Catholic schoolgirls.  So, Jacko, Go Take a Nap!  Stop ruining hand-jobs for the teens of America.  We don't want to think of your creepy, sequin-gloved hand rubbing our glans penis when we get our dolphins waxed.

     And that's not all.  Other testimony by teenagers alleges that Jacko showed them porn and walked around nude with a raging boner after getting them plied with Jesus Juice.  [We're stopping this column before it goes any further.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     Diego Maradona, a quondam Argentinian soccer (futbol) star got his stomach stapled because he now weighs 267lbs.  Problem: he's only 5'6".  He'd spent quite a bit of time in Cuba fighting a cocaine addiction, too.  Um.  I almost forgot that soccer sux0rs superbad and I don't give a damn.  Soccer, Go Take a Nap!  Watching a bunch of €-trash run around on a field mindlessly and the madness of drunken fighting is st00pid.  [That totally p0wned.--Eds.]

     Ex-Korn guitarist Brian "Head" Welch found the Jeebus and got hisself baptized in the Jordan River.  He quit the band and quit drugs all in one fell swoop.  He now feels "like hugging people."  Ex-Korn guitarist, Go Take a Nap!  You can't play rock guitar (love axe) with any form of commercial success without a little cocaine and heroin now and then.

     MSO, or Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia, shares doubled upon Martha Stewart's release from the pokey.  That makes sense.  I mean, everyone's personal worth ought to double when they get out of federal prison, right?  We ought to support Martha Stewart's empire with our discretionary income.  Everyone, including homemakers, I encourage you to buy one share of MSO in order to support this poor, poor woman in her endeavor to become a rich bitch again.

     And did you see The Pacifier yet?  I think it would be funny to see Vin Diesel in a heartwarming family action comedy as a babysitter, and apparently, Disney thought so, too!  [Disney executives, we have some screenplays we'd like to see produced, too.  See the red link at the top of the page.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     In the latest travesty called unreality TV, brainless Paris Hilton and mindless Nicole Richie upset some people in Wood-Ridge, NJ while filming an episode of The Simple Life.  How could they possibly upset anyone in a small town?  By pretending to work for a funeral home and by pretending to accidentally drop faked human ashes from an urn and vacuuming them up, all for some funny ha-ha, hee-hee, tee and/or hee comedy-type stylings.  Whooo, boy!  Someone change my adult diaper, because I just done pissed mesef.  That is so real that I can't take it.  Ooops!  There goes a spontaneous bowel movement.  Bring me some Wet Ones!  And Paris and Nicole, Go Take a Nap!  Paris, you need to be making more Internet porn, not unreality TV.

     Pauly Shore will make a triumphant return to mediocrity in his own unreality TV show because his mom, Mitzi Shore, threw a job at him.  The job?  Running the family business, the Comedy Store, in Los Angeles.  How can we possibly make unreality TV out of that?  Let me tell you what the man told me:
"As Shore gets to grips with running a family business his mother can't quite let go of, he also must deal with her disapproval of his dating habits--long a subject of tabloid fodder. All the while, Shore tries to regain his footing as an actor--even prodding his agent to get him dramatic roles."
     Bring me some Wet Ones!  I mean, Pauly Shore, Go Take a Nap!

     That cold bitch Martha Stewart will be released from jail this week.  I hope her stock can make a recovery!  All she'll have to do to win back the hearts of her fans is to show them how to make a shiv out of taffeta and rayon.

     Speaking of human ashes, Hunter S. Thompson's will dictates that his ashes be shot out of a cannon on his estate in Colorado.  His friend, Troy Hooper, said, "I believe he wanted to be shot out of a cannon.  I understand it's in his will.  That's Hunter's style.  That's how he would want it.  He was a big fan of bonfires and explosions and anything that went bang and I'm sure he'd like to go 'bang' as well."  Hunter S. Thompson, Go Take a Nap!  When that cannon blows your ashes in the air, it'll make a mess on the carpet, and you'll have to call in Paris and Nicole to vacuum it all up.  [We have often fantasized about have Paris and Nicole come vacuum it all up.--Eds.]

     Someone told me the Queen of England won't go see her son, Prince Charles, get married.  Someone, Go Take a Nap!  Who gives a shit about those inbred megalomaniacs?  [We're unclear if Mr. Jackson is referring to the Tudors or the Bushes.]

     And Michael Jackson has a jury of his peers set to try his child molestation case.  Where they found 12 black-turned-white pop stars who like to serve children whiskey in Pepsi cans and call it Jesus Juice, I'll never know.

By Jack Jackson

     Tommy Chong had the audacity to suggest that neither he nor Cheech Marin were stoned during the filming of any of their films.  He claimed that the first time they got stoned on the set caused them to miss their cues.  Cheech and Chong, Go Take a Nap!  I don't care what you say about being stoned on film.  You were stoned on film.  So stop harshing my scene, dude, and quit stalling the pipe.

     Jeanne-Claude and Christo, while on a self-absorbed romp through their latest public travesty called The Gates in Central Park, got into a brief tussle or scuffle or imbroglio or altercation of some kind with a photographer desiring to take pictures of the couple while in the park.  For those of you behind the times in the pointless world of Christo's "art," The Gates is a self-financed $21M installation of 7,500 gates in Central Park, each with billowing sheets what with you put your feet forward and walk through while you contemplate the ideas of "conspicuous consumption," "leisure class," and "shithead."  The imbroglio with the photographers started because the couple were upset that their enjoyment of the installation, which they claimed to have waited 26 years to enjoy, was being ruined by photographers who were selling copies of pictures of The Gates and Christo is quite upset because he claims he trademarked the work and so you can't sell pictures of it.  Jeanne-Claude and Christo, Go Take a Nap!
     First, what kind of idiotic dream is it to save up $21M for 26 years so you can walk in Central Park with 7,500 draped gates?  How about spending $21M on 21M Lance Armstrong Live Strong power bands to shove up your single-named asses?  [We propose purchasing 84M tacos at cheap taco night.--Eds.]
     Second, I don't think you trademarked the work, but maybe you copyrighted it.  Either way, I'm going to take a picture of The Gates and sell it on the Internet for exactly what I think it's worth: two shits.

     In a related matter, Britney Spears is upset that Us Weekly published pictures of her honeymoon in Fiji with that guy she married.  The pictures were taken by hotel staff after they assured Spears they were for their own private scrapbooks.  Instead, the hotel staff did what any sane person would do: they sold them to the highest bidder.  Now Britney is mad.  Britney, Go Take a Nap!  You got schooled, B-ATCH!  Live and learn.

By Jack Jackson

     Gary McLarty, an ex-Baretta stuntman and a key prosecution witness for the murder case against Robert Blake, testified that he might have seen some UFOs as a child and that he had "cocaine-fueled hallucinations" which made him think satellites monitored his home and also that he was telepathic.  The Blake defense attorneys raised all these issues in an effort to attack his credibility.  Blake defense attorneys, Go Take a Nap!  Cocaine-fueled hallucinations are part of everyday life in Hollywood.  Some make you telepathic, others make you think the government is spying on you, and still others yet make you think you're a honeybee and can fly.  [That's LSD that does that.--Eds.]

     AirTran will begin painting Sir Elton John's face all over 20 of its airplanes to promote that it has satellite radio available in the seats.  The details of the corporate whoring are not complete, but we do know that Sir Elton will get a 6-foot model AirTran plane as part of the deal.  AirTran, Go Take a Nap!  What in the hell are you thinking?  Passengers don't want to get on planes that have Sir Elton John's face on them.  His face is the last thing I want to see while my plane pulls up to the gate.  And what in the hell is he going to do with a 6-foot model of a jet airplane?  [We have some thoughts.--Eds.]

     Tom Sizemore violated his probation conditions by using a prosthetic penis to fake a drug test.  The gig was up when the temperature of the urine tested was not hot enough to have come from his body.  He also failed a test previously, caught using a device known as the Whizzinator.  At this point, I'll stop writing and ask for punchlines or pithy statements from the peanut gallery.  Send email by clicking the yellow link above.  To get you started, here's an example:

     Tom Sizemore, Go Take a Nap!  Everyone knows the Whizzinator doesn't do dick for drug tests!  You've got to get the Mr. Pisster 2000!

By Jack Jackson

     Maroon 5 will open up with their popular favorite, This Love, on the Grammies February 13th.  They'll also be going on a 35-city tour as corporate whores for the Honda corporation.  Lead singer Adam Levine said that normally they wouldn't pimp themselves out for an automobile manufacturer, because the band is environmentally conscious.  But, you see, the Honda corporation has developed something called a hybrid car, and they "won't have to tattoo Honda on [their] forehead[s]," so that makes it all OK.  Maroon 5, Go Take a Nap!  You're whoring yourselves out because the money is good, so just go ahead and say it.  [We would whore ourselves out for less.--Eds.]  And Maroon 5 guitarist James Valentine, Go Take a Nap!  I never see you wearing your Nebraska T-shirt anymore.

     The Parents Television Council released a report accusing MTV of airing "incessant sleaze."  "Moreover, "MTV has clearly chosen to cater to the lowest common denominator, to offer the cheapest form of programming to entice young boys . . . dangling forbidden fruit before their eyes," said Brent Bozell, president of the Parents Television Council.  Brent Bozell, Go Take a Nap!  Who the hell are you to tell me that living like a rock star and being surrounded by sexy people all day is "forbidden fruit"?  That sounds more like the American Dream to me.  Oh, and MTV's sleaze is not incessant.  It comes to a complete stop when Date My Mom airs.

     And did anyone hear that huge sucking sound in Jacksonville, Florida tonight, that huge sucking sound called Sir Paul McCartney's halftime snooze?  Please, NFL, please, Fox, please gimme a little titillation, some nipple shielding, some wardrobe malfunctioning some life, some excitement.  I deserve more, and the children of America deserve more.  [We want to see a guy call his doctor for his four-hour erection.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     The Oscar nominations are out.  Do you have your picks made?  Did you see all of the movies?  Will Scorsese finally get his Oscar he should've won for Goodfellas?  Do you love watching celebrities trying to sit still for three hours, struggling to not get up and snort cocaine in the bathrooms?  Will Chris Rock do one of the lame Billy Crystal musical numbers?  Have we slaughtered enough civilians in Iraq yet?

     Speaking of Chris Rock, he mentioned this week that last year he went on a personal tour of the White House, but that "It was weird because Bush was there and they were hiding me from Bush."  Mr. Rock, Go Take a Nap!  It's not so weird.  Hiding black people from Mr. Bush happens all the time in the White House.  You see, he thought he'd executed them all when he was in Texas, and nobody wants to get him all upset.

     Jamie Lynn Spears, younger sister to Britney Spears, has her own TV show called Zoey 101.  She landed this show because she has a lot of talent . . . er . . . um . . . [because she looks like a mini version of her sister.--Eds.]  Dammit!  I want my own show, too!  There'll be monkeys and kittens and a big wheel you spin to decide your dare and a guy dressed like a robot and we'll talk about stuff and every week we'll answer viewer mail and Tony Randall will show up unannounced and I'll do some spit takes and I'll forget my pants one time and I'll have a house band that plays nothing but cover songs.

     Michael Jackson is upset that some grand jury testimony leaked in his child molestation case.  He says the leaks are "malicious . . . disgusting and false."  He allegedly invited a 13-year-old cancer boy to his Neverland Ranch and plied him "with alcohol and fondled him."  Jacko says he didn't do any such thing, that he invited the boy because he "was ill with cancer and needed my help.  Through the years, I have helped thousands of children who were ill or in distress."  Jacko, Go Take a Nap!  What the hell you gonna do for a cancer patient?  Give 'em chemo while they jump on your bed naked and drunk?  [We'd like to be plied with alcohol and fondled any day of the week, but by Buffy the Vampire Slayer, not Jacko.--Eds.]

     MTV is "re-launching" MTV2 during the Super Bowl.  It will feature "a combination of music, shows and random content aimed at young males."  I'm not sure what "random content aimed at young males" would be, but I'm guessing just a lot of soft-core porn ought to do it.  [We'd like to see Buffy ply Britney with alcohol and fondle her.--Eds.]

By Jack Jackson

     Fox has "electronically blurred a character's posterior," a cartoon character's posterior, from the Family Guy, because "they have to be checking and second-guessing" themselves now because the FCC is fining so often for indecency.  Fox now must engage in self-censorship, and this decision came shortly after the FCC fined 169 Fox stations $7,000 for showing men licking whipped cream off of strippers' bodies and then one of the strippers spanking a man in his underwear.  Oh, I get it now.  You get fined for the whole whipped-cream-licking-and-spanking-the-underwear thing, so that means you can't show a cartoon's ass.  Fox, Go Take a Nap!  I can smell a PR stunt when I see one!  [We want to see a cartoon spanked in his underwear by a cartoon version of Buffy petting a kitten.--Eds.]

     After all these years, and all the rabid groundswelling of fanatical support, Journey, the "power ballad rock group that dominated the charts in the 1980s," finally got their star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame.  I'm not sure that I would call Open Arms a power ballad, but a quick look of the listing of other stars already on the Walk of Fame (Michael Bolton once and Pat Boone twice) has tempered my initial negative reaction to the whole thing.  I mean, it really is a walk of fame, and not a walk of talent, so I guess I'll have to stop making jokes about the no-talents lining the sidewalks of Hollywood.  [It's clearly not a walk of talent, since we don't see Bronson Pinchot or Hal Linden on the list.--Eds.]

     Ashton Kutcher and the WB are "plotting" a new unreality TV show called Beauty and the Geek which will no doubt create hilarity because it will pit seven ugly nerds with seven beautiful model-types, and whoo-boy!  Just thinking about how goddamn funny that will be has my dick hard and I don't think I can type anymore!  Kutcher said, "It's really looking at stereotypes of people and how we look at beautiful women and not-so-beautiful men."  Oh, Really?  Because I thought the idea would be to show how looks don't matter, how nerdy guys are monsters in the sack and how model types are cold, dead fish in the sack, and how it's not the size of the ocean, but the motion of the ocean.  [It the panties don't fit, you must acquit.--Eds.]

     And a fond farewell to Nebraska's own Johnny Carson.  After a lifetime of smoking, the emphysema finally caught up to him at the age of 79.  All Nebraskans should be so lucky to escape to Hollywood and have a fat sidekick laugh at all of our jokes.  You will be missed.

By Jack Jackson

     In honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, this week's edition of GTaN! will cover race-related issues in the herky-jerky world of celebrity.

     Prince Charles wants his sons William and Harry to visit the Auschwitz death camp because Harry went to a costume party dressed in a Nazi uniform and William allegedly helped him pick the uniform out.  For you readers who aren't as familiar with Harry, he's the one that the straight girls and gay boys of England don't want to bugger whilst they eat their tea and crumpets with their bad teeth and poor taste in music and food.  First of all, Harry, Go Take a Nap!  You dressing up like a Nazi at a costume party for obscenely rich white people is like Hitler going to an all-black dance club dressed like Ted Danson in minstrelsy blackface.  Second of all, William, Go Take a Nap!  Helping your brother to choose a Nazi uniform is like Hitler telling Ted Danson to wear blackface.  And rumor has it your getup was a leopard skin outfit with black tights.  That's either totally gay or totally British, or both.  And Prince Charles, Go Take a Nap!  Do you actually think that the generations of inbred idiocy which has wonderfully resulted in your two sons will somehow vanish by a visit to a death camp?  They'll probably get a stiffy from the visit and have to jerk each other off while they dream of world domination.

     On a lighter note, Samuel L. Jackson, better known as that badass black guy in all the movies these days, says his character, Mace Windu, dies in the next Star Wars movie, Star Wars: Episode III--Revenge of the Sith, but that he dies in a really cool way.  That should be interesting because one of the coolest ways to die is at the hand of a talent-less whitey actor punk.  [We'd like to see Yoda cut off the Emperor Palpatine's ear and eat it.--Eds.]

     Bill Cosby visited Detroit and told 1,800 black people at a "town meeting" to "do something" about their reputation.  He told them they should shield their children from the rampant crime in their neighborhoods and to not tolerate drug use and crime.  Bill, Go Take a Nap!  Do you think that they're gonna get active because some rich black guy yells at them for a few hours?  Maybe we should change the income tax structure instead, so that capital gains dollars are taxed at the same rate as wages, salaries, and tips, so that people like Theresa Heinz Kerry can't lower their effective tax rates to a point lower than a laborer's effective tax rate, which results in destruction of the progressive tax system?  Or would that hit your own pocketbook too much?

     And in a non-race-related note, NBC is planning a Fear Factor audience-participation show at Universal Studios.  But the audience "will not eat live bugs."  Excuse me?  The audience will not eat live bugs?  Did I get that right?  Well fuck you, Universal Studios!

By Jack Jackson

     Nothing important happened this week in the world of celebrity.  I don't care that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston have separated.  Instead, I'll lavish you with my mini-review of "The Machinist," or what I like to call "Pointless Mindfuck."

     "The Machinist" is a movie starring Christian Bale, who's fine acting made "American Psycho" a real joy.  Here, he loses a bunch of weight and is so skinny and gaunt that you can see his career fading away through his ribs.  Too bad he went through such a physical transformation for such a stupid-ass movie.  I hope it was worth it, Christian, losing all that weight, to be in a movie that totally sucks.

     "The Machinist" is another one of those classic examples of a movie written by some peckerhead who comes up with some tragic event or plot twist, and then tries to weave 120 minutes of hot steamy crap to lead up to its revelation.  Can we please stop making these one-trick suspense "thrillers"?  M. Night Shyamalan has beaten the dead horse into the ground with his movies, hasn't he?

     What's worse than that is that the whole movie is filmed such that you never know if the scene you're watching is something that is "actually" happening, only happening in a "dream state," or some weird admixture of the two.  Well that's just great, Mr. Screenwriter.  You've really outdone yourself.  Why bother making a movie that makes sense?  And don't tell me it's art and a way to interpret on film how a man's life can be as he delves into insanity.  I want to see a helicopter blow up in every movie from now on, too.

     I'd offer up the plot twist just out of spite, in order to discourage people from seeing this movie, but the plot twist is so lame that I don't want to stink up my totally sweet review.

By Jack Jackson

     With the dawn of a new year, and the idea that we won't find that damn monolith on the moon for awhile [We were supposed to find it in 2001.--Eds], I've decided to kick off the new year with a semi-regular concept which may not ever happen again, a la Oh, Really?, but it's a it-sounded-like-a-good-idea-at-the-time kinda thing, so here we go with a brannew brannew Jack Jackson spectacular web event called...

Ooooh!  Crap!

     Dave Barry, whose "career" as a "funny" columnist for the Miami Herald has lasted an unbelievable and inconceivable and unfathomable 22 years, announced that his column last week may be his last.   Ooooh!  Crap!  Where will I find safe, white, and totally bland idiotic and mindless blather which suburban America lets pass as humor on Sunday mornings?  [We TiVo the new Star Search.--Eds.]

     Some peckerhead jerkface blew $455 in an eBay auction on a "the remaining few tablespoons" of water contained in a plastic cup from which Elvis Presley supposedly drank at a concert in 1977.  Peckerhead jerkface, Go Take a Nap!  $455 ought to at least get you some loose socks from an Asian schoolgirl or some panties.  I mean, even if you somehow get sexual gratification from splashing the few remaining tablespoons of water on your face, you'll still have to buy the panties and loose socks to have something to come on.  [This column is a bad way to start 2005.--Eds.]

     Dick Clark's physical illnesses dictated that he couldn't make it to Times Square this year to do color commentary about the ball dropping.  Instead, Regis Philbin filled in and...let me check something...
     My social ineptitude book tells me that anyone at home watching ABC at midnight is a total loser.  So I guess it doesn't really matter who did color commentary about the ball dropping.  Maybe next year I'll have no life and watch TV instead of getting drunk at some ragingly lame house party.