Snark Attack!

Fresh off the last blitz, and I can’t seem to blink before the traps fill up again.
Let’s see, who wandered into the zone this week? I’ll give you a hint; whatever I feast on, I leave their brains out of it because I’m not into eating SHIT.

RIP to Evel Knievel, even though he started this whole ‘jumping the shark’ BS. To the new generation of daredevils; don’t get any bright ideas.
John Travolta, now known as Re-Volta. What the hell is wrong with you, J? If I had a wife as hot as Kelly Preston, I would never leave the house. Well, almost. Hey, you know what this means, right? Kel gets equal time with a hot chick. Revenge is sweet, especially when I can watch.
Lindsay Lohan is a classic example of someone who needs the drugs to look better and make better choices.
Miss Hewitt should work on reducing the ‘unflattering angle’ quotient by staying neck-deep in the water. Which means I would have to keep MY head above water. Always something.
Ingrid, you’re no Nancy Kerrigan. Actually, you’re way hotter, but lying your pretty little ass off amounts to a dealbreaker.
The Writer’s Strike just goes to prove that management doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the people that they employ to put food in their mouths.
Britney Spears at #26, looking a little better than in recent months. I bet if they ran a brain scan on her, it wouldn’t look so cute.
Don Imus back on the air. This week’s guests include Michael Richards, Mel Gibson, and Dog Chapman.
Scott Weiland has about as much chance staying clean in L.A. as Amy Winehouse has of ever gaining any self-respect in this life.
Ozzy Osbourne had a garage sale this week. I’m sure it was hard to resist dusting off the old relics with his nose.
OK. I just saw the vid of Tyra ‘rapping’ to Alicia Keys. After that, K-Fed looks good.
Kiefer Sutherland, thanks for showing Hollywood how to do a DUI right. What a classy guy.
Thank you, Gary Dourdan, for going after those guys. I’m not sure how much longer the paparazzi can hide behind this ‘freedom of the press’ bullshit.

The holidays are almost 3 weeks away, and I’m looking forward to the 26th. It’s the one day of the year that you can feel the hot air going out of the balloon, and the relatives getting the hell off your back like a pack of monkeys.
I’ll save my year-end review for then, because it’s the best time to vent my spleen. You might want to fireproof yourselves. Heh.
-Shark





















