Thursday, February 26, 2004

Variety: Fag Slags Mag Hag For Rag Lag

It's filthy, yet impossible to resist. It's full of nothing but lies, yet you keep coming back. Everyone you know loves it, but no one would ever admit so in public. Is it a Lifetime movie? An ex-boyfriend? V.C. Andrews? Masturbating in the afternoon? Duran Duran's Rio? The answers are yes, sometimes, yes, hell yes, and muthaFUCKA hellll yes, but I'm actually thinking of Us Weekly. Friends, I hate to break it to you, but—this week's glowing New York Times feature on Us's editrix-in-chief notwithstanding—I fear that the days are numbered for everyone's favorite little gossip rag.

Basically the WB to People's UPN, Us is the most amazingly addictive piece of utter trash to the hit market since Xtina Aguilera's chaps-soilingly yummy 'Dirrty' video. A world without it <shudder> would be a tragic place indeed. However, the fact remains that Hollywood just isn't providing enough excitement these days to sustain a mimeographed pamphlet, forget a full-color glossy weekly. All anyone wants to talk about is Jesus-hating Jews and Cold Mountain and like Lindsay Lohan or something. Yawn! I mean just check out the Us covers from the last few weeks (it's OK, everyone knows you hide the back issues under Wallpaper* and the Atlantic Monthly)—the covers are just reality star after reality star. Paging Dr. Kevorkian! Janice honey, the Times may be your BFF-4-EVA, but when you're using regular people to sell famous people to other regular people, it's all over.

Of course, the first nail in Us's coffin was when perennial Us stalking victims cover couple Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez split up*: without [insert stupid couple nickname here] to kick around, suddenly there were like 36 empty pages to fill in the magazine. Thank god Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore decided to start doing the oingo-boingo—Us rode that little cradle-robbing incident for at least a few months.

But wait! Now comes the shocking news that will truly be the downfall of Us Weekly: Ashton Kutcher has been lying about his age! Turns out there's documentation of a Christopher Ashton Kutcher being born in Iowa in 1974, but nobody in 1978, making the artist formerly known as Kelso actually a wizened 30 years of age, not 25. Say it ain't so!!! With Demi just a spry 41 years old, the whole shocking age difference romance thing vanishes faster than you can say "Got MILF?", and it's just another coupla tired old white people doin the neutron dance to help their careers, rather than being the hottest May-December since who knows when. Yawn and double yawn! Sure, OK, personally I don't think someone with a body like this could really be 30—I feel like a pedophile just looking at him—but considering this news comes to us via that paragon of fair and balanced news reporting, The National Enquirer, I'm sure it's true. Oh what will Us talk about now?

*We all know Ben and Jen are still together and just faked a breakup to get the media off their back—how Jimmy Hoffa of them!


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