Here is a weekly column they have where Adrian has people write him about celebrities seen in Seattle the previous week.The column is aptly named, Celebrity I Saw U.Here is this weeks column:
In a victorious moment for heterosexuals everywhere, Doogie fucking Howser and his enormous pumpkin-like head came out of the closet.
To enhance said coming out, various theoretical eyewitnesses report that he shouted, “I’m GAY! I’M GAY!” while shooting pink ping-pong balls out of his grotesquely protracted asshole.
When asked what he plans to do next, Doogie responded, “Eat some guy’s sperm!”
Whether or not “some guy’s sperm” includes that of Congressman Mark Foley or that methed-up New Life Church queer is a question for philosophers. But it does. Gay sex is officially 36 percent grosser.
Then, suddenly, at the University Book Store: Yea! And the darkness stretched its hand across the land, and the skies were made to weep. And from the south came hell’s harlot, and upon a mighty dragon she rode (or a white horse, or a flame-blackened spoon, whatever), and she carried in her right hand the new “book” she just “wrote,” and in her left she bore a probably forged Oxy prescription, and she was a pestilence upon the earth, and she was called Courtney, and she was totally a huge fucking bitchwad.
“Dear Adrian, I was first in line at Courtney Love’s book signing. She stormed in like a bat out of hell, looking like some puffy, plastic, no-soul L.A. washup. There was so much I wanted to say… but I barely got half of a fake smile. Was she afraid for her life? Or just completely miserable? —Emma”
Indeed, Emma. My archives bulge with practically zillions of reports detailing Miss Love’s behavior/demeanor during that so-called “book” signing—reports from disappointed fans cruelly destined, as you were, to experience the colossal snatchness that is Courtney Love.
Unlike yours, however, many of these reports speak also of “repulsive varicose boob veins” and contain any combination of the words “horrible” and “slag.” Of which there are, sadly, only two.
But is “that” really “all,” Emma? I wonder.
Elsewhere: Terrorists have threatened to kill Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Perhaps they intend to crash hijacked planes into them. I really have no clue. It’s all pretty retarded.
Finally, in real terrorist threats: Lance Bass’s hot boyfriend also came out of the closet. To enhance said coming out, he started blowing a boybander.
He was also practically molested by ideologically damaged military dudes, which was overkill. Then he wrote a book about it, and now people are trying to kill him.
So he will appear with his cadre of FBI agents and other secret protectors at Bailey/Coy Books on Thursday, November 9, to read live from said porn. I mean book. I mean porn. I mean book.I mean porn.”