Does Federline Look A Little, Um, Pallid?

CELEBUDANTE PARIS HILTON DIDN’T WASTE TIME POOH-POOHING speculation that she was doing the nasty with Kevin Federline. The Hilton heiress and the Sperm donator two spent the last days of December partying in Sin City together, setting tongues wagging. But Paris shot down talk that the two were anything more than playas running in the same circle. Apparently even Paris has her standards, and Kevin Federline doesn’t muster. Surely they were both just trying for more face time in the media when they agreed to be snapped together?

Frankly, Paris looks like she comes from a lot healthier gene pool than Federline, who appears in photos as more than a little slimy, and I mean literally. He’s got this skiny skin, and despite the great facial bone structure, his skin is the pasty color of mashed potatoes. Perhaps Kevin has been doing a little too much partying? Or perhaps he just gets too little sleep or sunshine. Yes, I know his media machine has rescued his image, reframing him as "father of the year." But Crabby asks, as she has before, why is there never any photos of K-Daddy with wee babes in arms? The only photos I’ve ever seen are of Sean and Jayden with the bodyguard, nanny and grandma (God help them!). And it was the bodyguard that Brit refused to turn the boys over to last weekend at the end of her monitored play time. La La Land gossips have reported that it was the paid goons who called Kevin, who then thoughtfully called his attorney Mark Vincent Kaplan. If I were closer to the source, I’d be swinging down to the cop shop for a transcript of the 911 call to Brit’s house. Who made the call? What did they say? And was Federline’s attorney really at Brit’s house?

If the Mrs. Federline could actually keep a lawyer on retainer (the list is getting shorter), I would argue that it is only fair that the other half of this failed match be subjected to the same required drug testing as her. Oh, and by the way, who was watching the boys when Federline was partying all night in Las Vegas? Let me guess: the bodyguards and nannies. Yep, he’s a swell daddy.

But Wait! The Election is Just Getting Started…

WHEN I TURN IN TONIGHT AND SAY MY PRAYERS, along with asking for a break for Britney, I’ll beseech the heavens to make the outcome of Tuesday’s New Hampshire primary a surprise. Not that I have a thing against the charismatic Democratic Illinois Senator Barack Obama or the Republican with the man-of-the-cloth manner, former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee. But I do resent the media’s penchant for reacting as though Iowa’s results are a fait accompli for the rest of the race, particularly for the Dems. Even the hard-to-impress Maureen Dowd of The New York Times has joined the Obama bandwagon, waxing romantically on Sunday about his caucus win: "The Obama revolution arrived not on little cat feet in the Iowa snow but like a balmy promise, an effortlessly leaping lion hungry for something different, propelled by a visceral desire among Americans to feel American again." Little cat feet? Balmy promise? A hungry leaping lion? Maureen, that’s downright mawkish for you.

Despite Dowd’s labeling Obama’s win a "revolution," if you read the same paper the previous day you would have been reminded that only one previous winner of the Iowa caucuses has ever gone on to win the presidency — George Bush in 2000. And the Times’ sister paper, the International Herald Tribune pointedly asks voters and the media for perspective. "Watching the campaign in cold, snowy and mostly empty Iowa, we were hoping…that this year’s Iowa-New Hampshire rush to judgment will be the last…Keeping this race alive so significant numbers of Americans in more populated states can participate would begin to make up for the ludicrous spectacle of the past year, which enriched the television networks and the political consultants (some $300 million already spent) far more than it enriched the political dialogue. We hope both parties will wake up and end the undemocratic system in which the choice of a new president rests far too heavily on nonbinding votes in January by voters who don’t necessarily represent the rest of the country." Crabby could not have said it better.

A year into this premature ejacu-lection, many voters still don’t know what’s inside the suit known as Mitt Romney; they yearn to see the robotic Hillary spill some crocodile tears, a la Oprah, as proof that she really is human; they want time to figure out if Huckabee is Bush-lite in a Barber Quintet’s outfit; they wait to see if the real McCain or the panderer will please stand up. On another note, I think it’s too bad for us all that Ohio Democrat Dennis Kucinich and Texas Republican Ron Paul weren’t allowed to debate on Fox Sunday night. Whoever said the revolution will not be televised was right. When it happens, we’ll all be watching reruns of The Simpsons..

Who Let The Fox Into The Nut House?

IF YOU NEEDED FURTHER EVIDENCE OF THE POOR JUDGMENT OF BRITNEY SPEARS’ PARENTS, you got it Saturday when gossips reported that Lynn and Jamie Spears invited TV’s pseudo shrink Dr. Phil to visit their daughter at Mt. Cedars Sinai Hospital. Confirming that Britney is smarter than people give her credit for, the poor little pop star apparently did an about-face upon seeing the shiny bald head invading her personal space and would have nothing to do with the so-called "television intervention" that Dr. Phil was prescribing for next week’s broadcast. I can practically hear the saliva dripping from Dr. Phil’s lips all the way from La La Land. THANK GOD Britney gave him the boot. Because that is the last thing that anyone who actually cared for Britney, that is anyone with sense, would want for her. Dr. Phil is sly enough to know that the elder Spears’ fit the profile of the typical sort who grace his studios: nincompoops who are witless enough to believe that Dr. Phil really "cares." Or even after all these years, who still desperately believe that having face time on TV validates your existence. W-T-F are they thinking? Daytime TV is a spectacle of dysfunction, and watching it a sport for the unenlightened. It’s what the Romans would have done if the had had television instead of the Coliseum. Britney’s daily life is already a manic grab for the spotlight, if only to fill the void inside her. And why is that such a surprise? She grew up under the camera’s watchful eye and knows that it morphs her into whatever people want her to be. Do you want to think of her as a virgin? Then she’s a virgin? Do you want to think of her as a wayward scamp? Then she’ll be a wayward tart. Do you want to think she’s a lesbian? Then she’ll kiss Madonna and make you wonder. Do you want her to be beautiful? Then she’ll dye her hair and wear it in a come-hither style. Do you think she’s losing it? Then she’ll cut off those tresses just to confirm the rumor for you. What Brit needs is TIME OUT. The question is whether Britney can ever believe she would be worth something without attention. Yes, Britney, you are. But only you can make yourself believe that; you have to stop listening to people who only want to use you for their own gain. That includes Dr. Phil. Don’t listen to the rabble who try to eat you and your young each and every news cycle..

The Monsters that Created Britney’s Delusional Entitlement

THE EXPECTATION OF PERFECTION IS THE WORLD’S PRICE FOR THE TITLE POP PRINCESS. But when you become a former pop princess, nothing less than imperfection will do. Put yourself in Britney’s shoes: Nothing she does is right in the eyes of the world. And without question she has made mistakes of poor judgment. She married Kevin Federline. She drove with Baby Sean in her lap when he was only months’ old, like he was some pedigree pooch preened over by its owner. The boy purportedly fell from a high chair. Britney allegedly fed him pop from the bottle, and then sought teeth whitening for the premature cover boy, which is cuckoo to anybody who lives outside of LaLaLand.

Except for the teeth whitening, such misdemeaors of mothering can be witnessed in virtually any household with tots younger than two. But if you were weaned on Hollywood’s poison potion, propelled by your own mother into stardom as a preteen, used for profit or gain by every living soul you’ve ever met, idolized by the teeming, screaming masses, enslaved by the maw of a voracious media, it should be no surprise to anyone when delusional entitlement becomes your world view. Somewhere along the line in order to learn right from wrong, someone has to teach you the difference. But when you’re being groomed for pop stardom, no one tells you the truth. The King has no clothes only after he loses his crown.

Such an abrupt change-of-fortune could leave anyone defiant and in denial even before they are forced to submit to unforgiving judges, court monitors and paparrazi. When once everyone tripped over themselves to tell you you’re perfect, now they can’t wait to trump your tiniest flaws. You must now pay double for your once-overlooked sins, and your biggest sin is refusing airbrushed perfection — even going so far as to — horror! — cutting your blonde locks for the cameras in the biggest sybolic "fuck you" ever to the world. So now Britney pays for her willfull violation of the rules. But she still doesn’t understand just how completely her fortunes have changed, and she skips depositions, ignores her lawyers, and finally locks herself in the closet to keep the one thing, the only thing that is real in her life: her children Sean and Jayden. And they call that crazy. Contrarily, I wonder if perhaps, finally, the dim light of reality has finally crept beneath the door’s crack..

Bulging "Package" Or Not, Sacha Baron Cohen is the Real Deal

CURIOUS IS THE DEARTH of stills available on the web and elsewhere of Sacha Baron Cohen’s character from the movie that has America’s critics singing a love song in chorus, Sweeney Todd. Perhaps that is just good politics: After all, screen star Johnny Depp and Director Tim Burton’s serial monogamy is rare in real life, rarer still in Hollywood, and perhaps deserves to be the lead story. But where is this sidebar: that Cohen’s showman barber Adolfo Pirelli steals every scene in which he appears. Perhaps that is the cinematographer’s intention: the character’s sartorial splendor, neatly coiffed hair and, yes, bulging crotch, hint at promise, and contrast sharply with the rest of the film’s gloomy pastiche. Yet Crabby wonders if the low-key press for Cohen’s performance is coincidence or conspiracy. Surely Johnny Depp, the actor who gets the most high-fives for autograph signing, that man-of-the-people who wants only to be an actor and not a star, can stand to share the spotlight? So far all I’ve seen is pander after pander about Cohen’s padded "package", which I do confess does deserve a spotlight in its own right. But it clearly was part of the gag. No matter. DreamWorks is paying Cohen back with the role as Abbie Hoffman in The Trial of the Chicago Seven, which tells the story of protestors who disrupted the 1968 Democratic Convention and faced criminal charges of inciting a riot. Rumor has it that Steven Spielberg himself convinced Cohen to take the role. That Spielberg, such a smartie.

And speaking of the Spears sisters, (aren’t we all, all the time, 24/7, in sickness and in health, till death due us part?) amid the flurry of breathless coverage about Jamie being with child, there is a growing drumbeat for her to marry the baby’s presumed father, Casey Aldridge. Here’s a plea to tabloid editors, the Religious Right, presidential candidates and any other interest group with a platform: STOP!!!!

When the baby arrives, she or he will be be beautiful, the tabs will be orgasmic over have another celebrity baby to snap, the Religious Right can crow about the virtues of giving birth over abortion. It will be a beautiful story (that is, until the hypervigilant paps spot Jamie not supporting the baby’s neck correctly. For shame!) So why spoil this potentially decent outcome with a sure-fire bad outcome? A marriage between two teenagers in Hollywood has a shorter shelf life than a jar of mayonnaise. Can we stop the push for that twist to the story? Jamie and the suspected sperm donor will be paying their indiscretion for the rest of their lives. Why compound the problem by forcing them into marriage? Instead, why not encourage Jamie and Casey to promise to love, honor and commit to being good parents together. Isn’t that the best ending we could wish for any unplanned newborn?.

Unbelievable WTFs! Celebrity Predictions for 2008

NEW YEAR PROMISES COME IN ALL SHAPES AND SIZES. As the calendar flips back to one, many of us mere mortals feel a renewed sense of hope, of possibility, of a second chance for luck and love. Some of us may simply want to drop 20 pounds; others the proverbial ball and chain clamped to our ankles. For celebrities, the new year is time to strategize on updated images and fresh hairdos, meeting new beaus and making botox appointments. They wonder aloud and to themselves: How can we keep the limelight on us?

With the New York Times’ review of the year of the "train wreck" in mind, here are some headlines we predict we could end up reading in 2008. In the meantime, we hope to see ya in the New Year!

Britney Elopes to Las Vegas With Jamie Lynn’s Baby’s Daddy!
What else could smear the Spears’ family name more than an intra-family love triangle? Then Jerry Springer could book the whole lot and we could watch fists fly!

Lindsay Lohan Exposed!
Ex-Boyfriend lets out secret that starlet sleeps naked on back with legs and arms outstretched; shakes her leg when her tummy is scratched. Reveals himself to be a real DOG.

Drunken Brawl Breaks Out Between Ex-Hollywood "He Men"!
Mel Gibson and David Hasselhoff caught in an alcohol-fueled dust-up over who made a bigger ass of himself while plastered.

Cannibalism Caught On Tape!
TMZ.com shows video of paparazzi feasting on themselves outside hospital where Britney’s baby sister Jamie gives birth to a bouncy baby boy.

Paris Reveals Her Favorite Sex Partner!
Celebutante confides she gives herself the best orgasms; promises to catch future romps with self on video for release to the masses.

Sarah Silverman Unmasked!
Supposed comic actress is really Jimmy Kimmel in drag. "I wanted to get in touch with both my feminine and unfunny side," Kimmel confessed.

The Secret’s Out! Oprah and Letterman give birth to their "Love-Hate" child.
Both Dr. Phil and Senator Obama weep with (relief and) joy at the news.

Britney and Jamie Lynn: America’s Rorschach Tests

THE SHRIEKS OF JOY CAN BE HEARD ALL ACROSS AMERICA From inside Tabloidville: Whippee! Another Spears girl is preggers! Britney’s baby sister, Jamie Lynn, who stars as the levelheaded Zoey in Nickelodeon’s Zoey 101, is three months’ along, according to OK! magazine. Won’t be long now before faux comic Sarah Silverman’s pointing out another "beautiful mistake" bearing the last name Spears. Won’t be long ’til the congregation of the Southland Christian Church is adding Britney’s younger sister to their prayer circle.

What to say? That Jamie Lynn is only one of the estimated 750,000 U.S. teens who get pregnant annually, of which about two-thirds go on to deliver babies. That surely she will become a lightning rod for activists on both sides’of the abortion line. That Britney will finally have someone to deflect paparrazi attention away from her, and who can understand how difficult it is to be a good mother. That Sean and Jared will have a cousin to go trick-or-treating with, but only if their mean mommy plays along with the paps and takes them out for candy. That a baby boom among America’s teens will be reported on in, oh, say about two to three years? And imagine the potential tie-ins for the promotion of Lynn Spears’ book on motherhood due out next Mother’s Day? All easy predictions.

This is something else we know for sure: that Britney, and now Jamie Lynn, are America’s very own public Rorschach tests. What you think of them, whether you scold or defend them, is a reflection of your very own world view. Are they sluts looking for attention? Are they the little lost daughters of Lynn? Are they the byproducts of modern day’s Sodom and Gommorah, that place we called Hollywood? Or are they typical kids who didn’t think of their consequences, got knocked up, but instead of aborting went ahead and had babies?

The end of this story won’t be known until Brit and Jamie Lynn are dead and their children are all grown up. But keep this in mind as you watch the show: however you interpret the outcome will be a self-fulfilling prophesy.

The Sins of an Honest Actress. Or is that an Oxymoron?

TINSELTOWN’S SEXPOT OF THE MOMENT KATHERINE HEIGL is making headlines because she criticized the movie that made her a household name as being "sexist." If your memory serves you, Heigl stars as the E! TV producer who gets preggers while celebrating her promotion to on-air talent in Judd Apatow’s Knocked Up. Heigl critizes the movie in January’s Vanity Fair saying that the movie "exaggerated the characters, and I had a hard time with it, some days. IÕm playing such a bitch; why is she being such a killjoy? Why is this how youÕre portraying women? É It was hard for me to love the movie.Ó

Now the better-known, and probably wiser, gossips at Jezebel have taken Kate to task for criticizing the movie only after cashing her $300,000 paycheck she received for the movie. Come on girls, why does Katherine have to be the sole beacon of integrity in Hollywood? La La Land is a land of mirrors that only reflects back the chimera it produces. And we all know that pictures, video, press releases, and even the news, do too lie. In fact, during a brief foray into TVland, Crabby learned nothing was true but that saps are the only ones left thinking that honesty matters.

So Katherine is supposed to have, what, challenged Apatow to rewrite the script? And that would have gotten her, um, serving waffles somewhere on Hollywood Boulevard? As Jezebel pointed out in an earlier essay, the movie was painful for most women to watch. Not the least because the scenario the character finds herself in, pregnant after a HUGE promotion that most TV wannabees lust for. But because any on-air talent for E! is liable to be self-centered, egotistical, vain, anorexic, and wouldn’t be caught dead with the twit she ends up with. And yes I am generalizing.

The most unlikely of scenarios would be that such a desperado would give all her dreams up for…an unplanned baby with a loser. Apatow’s movie is clearly written from a boy’s vantage point: Even an average Joe can be loved by a hot chick who can look pass the love handles to their hidden charms. Yea, right. Knocked Up was in essence a fairy tale for boys. Cinderfella finds his Princess. Only in Hollywood does a story like this end up happily-ever-after. Katherine works in Hollywood. Why should she be held to a different standard?

Villains on My Mind

HANDS DOWN, SNOW MISER of The Year Without A Santa Claus fame, is my favorite villain of the holiday season. Wikipedia, that everyman’s encyclopedia, describes him as a lovable louse taken to making bad puns about cold weather. "Snow Miser was a giant humanoid creature, with the supernatural power to freeze objects at will…[who] lived in a large ice castle, and was attended to by a host of miniature versions of himself. He defended his domain fiercely, yet unlike [his brother] Heat Miser, was a gregarious, friendly, jocular sort, given to gales of laughter…"

So what, the reference ages me. It won’t be long before you too are reminiscing fondly about figures from your youth. Perhaps you’ll be waxing romantic about Syndrome or Fred Claus, ala former Hollywood hotness Vince Vaughn.

With villains in mind, let’s consider two of this week’s finest:

First, there’s Montel Williams, faux talk-show hero who allegedly threatened to hunt down a high school journalist for having the temerity to ask if pharmaceuticals would lose their love of the hunt if their profits were limited during one of Williams’ road show stops on behalf of big Pharma. Montel refused to answer the question. But when he coincidentally crossed paths again with Savannah Morning News intern Courtney Scott later the same day he sinisterly said, "I can look you up, find where you live and blow you up," according to news reports. How’s that for heroics? Montel, I think you just, um, lost your part-time gig.

Then there’s the four-times married ex-cop Drew Peterson of the Chicago suburb Bolingbrook who is facing new allegations that he asked two truck drivers to transport a package hours after his wife Stacy went missing. Peterson has so far deflected pointing fingers by accusing his wife, 30 years his junior, of taking off with another man. He’s also dismissed claims by a relative who attempted suicide after helping to remove a suspicious barrel from Peterson’s bedroom. NOTE TO WOMEN EVERYWHERE: If your lover boy has three ex-wives, is old enough to be your father AND has a wife who drowned in a dry tub, run so fu@#xing fast and far that the guy’s head spins. We don’t need another whodunit with a predictable ending. They are so ho-hum in La La Land.

And let’s not forget New York City’s bravest who are so clever that they decided to test the honesty of the city’s citizens by leaving wallets and pocketbooks in public places, and then arresting those who snapped them up. Yes it is indeed illegal to capitalize on such good fortune! Who could have imagined this is what the future held all those years ago when the FEDS undertook ABSCAM. The news is never at a loss for villains.