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BEEHIVE IN SPACE

Scientology wooing Winehouse?

Okay, so the headline says it all-- the Scientology chapter in London gave Amy a call to help pry the pipe from that crack on her face called a mouth. Could it be possible that Tom Cooze will personally see to her rehabilitation? He'll take her aboard his own personal orbiting spaceship (so as to keep paparazzi away-- mosquitoes can't fly to space, can they?), where he has personally helped hundreds of people kick their drug additions. (Note to self; edit above, replace "person" with "alien.")

Oh, Tom-Tom is such a great guy! So selflessly and unbraggartly giving. For, as we learn from the L. Ron Hubbard Scientology Code of Honor, "Don't desire to be liked or admired." Who, Tom? No, not Tom, so shy and retiring, so unshowy when it comes to good deeds. He knows he doesn't need to impress us Earthlings by scooping up little boys getting crushed against the velvet ropes in his red-carpet high-fivin' line; by helping old men off the sidewalk and looking concerned as the shutterbugs snap away.

No, he doesn't need to be showy with his good deeds, he knows his kind acts and accomplishments and great box office receipts are being added to a list and checked off twice to be read aloud at his E-meter roast in the sky when he finally steps through those pearly gates and into the space dock and is greeted, once more and at last, by his admiring creator, L Ron, all raise thy anal probes in obeisance, Earthen pus-sacs. Hail.

LOVING THE ALIEN HANDLER

What's going on in this photo? Is Tom Cooze using his hand to keep this man against the sidewalk? No, his midget limbs don't have that much muscular strength.

But see that hypodermic in his other hand? He's about to stick the guy to put him into dreamland at least until Tom and his bodyguard, Stone, get away for a little quickie.

"Katie! This guy's an unexploded Thetan! Stone and I are heading over to Scientology HQ for reinforcements! I've already called Kirstie and Travolta! Don't wait up!"

BALLOONS DON'T BECOME THEM

Angie, Maddox, Pax and Zahara in NYC today. In town for "Changeling" premiere.

Apparently, the free balloons could not entice the tykes in to get haircuts. Or is that just the balloon handler? Wait, I'm confusing them with Suri, who has a 24-hour barley-handler and a traveling hair salon to keep her always-perfect locks. Locks? It's a trap, kids. The haircut, as we know from Katie, is Tom's key to keeping her under lock and-- well, you know.

Free Suri! I won't know she's free until she's got a head full of dreadlocks with a giant skunk-streak down the front.

Love Zahara's velvet pants, though. And the Mary-Janes.

ALL MY SEXY SONS

So who did we spot strolling across 3rd Avenue at 13th street in the East Village the other night, but sweet little Katie Holmes, remember, from Dawson's Creek? She was carrying an adorable alien baby up against her chest as a human shield, with a twitchy bald guy coming up her rear. The twitchy bald guy was coming up Tommy's rear later that evening.

Still, it's sloppy seconds compared to the slab of hot man love Katie shares her stage with every night at the Schoenfeld Theater. Is that why Katie needs the baby for defense? After the stage lights have gone down and the fumes of the greasepaint have calmed Katie's nerves, she can finally face the L'ilest Hitler of all waiting back at the hotel suite, ready to fling his little arms and kick his little legs in a jealous rage because it is she, and not He, that shares the same air as sexy Christian what's-his-face (above).

"Give me your hands!" he screams, rubbing her digits over his mouth and nose. "I don't smell balls!" he rages, "I told you to touch his balls! And did you get his Jockeys? Where are the Jockeys? Goddam it, what do I pay you for?"

AHHHH!!

Dick extrodinaire, Tom Cruise in Tropic Thunder. Scary bitch.

NOTE: Sorry, video is gone. Knew the fat Hollywood bastards would get rid of it. You're going to have to pay to see that shit, but be sure and swipe a dollar from the Children's Charity collection box on the counter, because you should get money back from having to watch that monkey bitch.

DADDY YOU ARE NOT GAY SO SLEEP WITH MOMMY NOW--USE MY BLANKIE

According to Just Jared:

'One insider tells E! that Suri is the one that wears the pants in the family: “If Suri doesn’t like Katie’s shoes, she’ll take them off. Tom, too. He does whatever Suri wants. He defers to her on everything.”'

That's Suri Cruise in Pucci, still drinking out of a bottle at age 2 and ruling the world.

PENIS HEAD

I think that what we have to do is consider changing the thrust of this blog to just a probe, a light fingering, slow digit insertion, concentrated deep stroking, then eventual paroxysm of pleasure in Tommy Cruise's damaged ego and psyche. Or mine. I want him to fail. Or at least be stripped bare then unfurled, so to speak. And when he is, I am happy.

Reading Dana Stevens' review of Tropic Thunder in Slate, I nearly had my own kind of 'O' jumping on my own couch. She writes:

Robert Downey Jr. knocking a role like this out of the park is no surprise. But who could have foreseen Tom Cruise nearly stealing the movie in a fat suit, a prosthetic nose, a skinhead wig, and an Austin Powers-style mat of chest fur? Cruise is always at his best when he's skewering some unpleasant aspect of his own persona; thus, the crazed motivational speaker he played in Magnolia was a career high point, and the supremely crude Les Grossman is another. Maybe as the head of United Artists, Cruise really does spew vicious obscenities on the phone and engage in triumphant hip-hop dances in an underground bunker of an office. At any rate, never has a role so cannily taken advantage of Cruise's compact, thumblike body shape—that is, his physical resemblance to a penis. As Les Grossman, he's a literal and figurative dick, and it's the role of a lifetime.

I'm not happy with her suggesting that he's hit anything out of any park, however, I will take the rest.

It's his only defense now. That's what narcissists do, trust me, I know. Assholes. When everything starts crumbling around them, everyone sees through them, sees the flimsy social constructs they've constructed, they make a last ditch effort to win back your love, even if it means self-parody, self-assault. He is a bully of Thetan proportions.

He is a Dick. Dick. Dick. Dick. Dick. Dick.

photo courtesy: Media.Movieweb.com

KOOKOO BANANAS, THE PREQUEL

Okay, so the Scientology video of Tom "Cruised-me-in-the-men's-room" is definitely high on the kookoo-meter, but we all know his career freefall started well before that. I can't stop watching this video because it so perfectly epitomizes a time, a place, the forces of phony good against the forces of bad phoniness.

If only those two had canceled each other out, Crash would not have won best picture, Hillary would be the nominee, and poor Katie wouldn't have to keep changing her hairdo to deal with her depression at having kissed a prince that became the evil muppet troll-frog.

TASTE THE SALTY BANANAS

I can't stop watching this video of Tommy Cruise ending his career by being the kookoo banana he is---listen to that endless guitar loopy new age music, his murderous laughter, it sticks in my head forever. Mind control!

Angelina Jolie just replaced Tom Cruise in the espionage thriller, Edward A. Salt.
According to Variety: Angie is “the rare female who is viable in an action genre that has been almost the exclusive domain of men.”

Not saying much for Tom. Replaced by a taller woman again. He wanted 20 million and they wouldn't pay up.

According to Just Jared, "Jolie would play the title character, a CIA officer who’s accused by a defector of being a Russian sleeper spy and must elude capture long enough to establish her innocence. Edwin A. Salt will rewritten by the movie studios and will undergo a title change, obviously."

Boooooring!

Now that Tommy has hit the comedy circuit in the Stiller movie, Tropic Thunder (where hot Robert Downey Jr. is BLACK which is causing a lot of controversy for that reason and the mentally disabled audience who will watch it), playing some fat Hollywood exec, I guess we can look forward to him trying to get into the next Apatow or Wes Anderson movie.

Watching Tom Cruise try hard is the story of his career and now he's trying to be funny? I can't watch this. Please. Stop him. Someone stop him. If only he'd been diagnosed as a child with a pituitary gland tumour, grown into a giant, had it removed, crushed his bully father, come out, never gone to Hollywood, took his sphincter-tight grin into gay porno.

He should have at least stopped after Magnolia.

Thanks to JustJared.com

BAD MONEY

If you saw "Dark Knight" you know this is not a pile of money, and if you're not living with Bin Laden in a cave somewhere you know the Batman movie makes this much money per second. Did Katie Holmes pull out of the comic book sequel to make this movie? It was called "Mad Money" in case you blinked, or you're not a middle-aged single gal who was so desperate for the "Sex in the City" movie you saw any movie that had more than one chick in the credits.

Okay, we know the reason-- Katie's only allowed to love one man who secretly wears a leather codpiece, and she can't make more money or be more successful than l'il hubbie. But Jesus Christ.

Now, I'm not one of those people who slags Katie because she's been chained to the stove by her midget-impresario-with-a-moptop, but whatever the reason, I'm glad she pulled out. Maggie Gyllenhaal-- now there's a bitch can go toe-to-toe with Batbutch. Whether she's striding in and out of the courtroom, the interrogation room, staring down the Joker or watching the clock tick down strapped to 100s of barrels of flammable oil, bitch got presence. She's no little girl. In "Batman Begins," Katie looked like she stumbled into the courtroom during "bring your daughter to work" day.

Oh yeah, Heath is good too. But you knew that already.

Photo Courtesy Big City Pictures

SUNDAY ROSE, BORN ON A MONDAY

No, don't adjust your monitor colour. They're both wearing shades of dishwater beige on their bodies, hair, and faces, but somehow they still clash. Could it be that touch of rose on Keith Urban's face? Is that where Nicole got the second part of her baby's name? Or is his skin so shiny he's reflecting the wall behind them?

The Huffington Post surmises Nicole Kidman chose her baby girl's name as a criticism of Scientology, which she adopted when married to Tom Cruise, then kicked out of the house like a devil child when Cruise started auditioning for a more malleable Stepford Wife. Sunday Rose was named for Sundays (not sundaes), important to Nicole's (original) Catholic faith. You know. Day of rest, etc. The word "rest" was banished from Chez Cruise, 'cause Tommy's always go-go-go! Saving lives, directing traffic, buzzin' with energy, tap-tap-tappin' his feet even when he's on the seat! Senator Craig should have used the "Cruise" defense, then sued the airport for having spaces under their wall stalls where his frenetic soft-shoe could be misconstrued.

Back to that blanched and de-freckled goddess, Nicole. Did she really name her baby as a way to stick it to her former faux-hubbie? If so-- how does the new hubbie feel? He's a full hat and lifts taller than Tommy, but still, his baby girl's name will forever suggest Tommy's Scientology mind-control is a potent obstacle to overcome. Nicole should just get over it. Trade her E-meter for a velvet pillow and move on.

BATBROAD

Katie Holmes was "unable to reprise her part" of BM's girlfriend in the Batman sequel The Dark Knight. "Unable," code for "Tom won't be compared to anyone wearing a black leather codpiece. And bat-nipples." Just to be careful, Tommy-Love is stashing his latex jockstraps in the safe.

Maggie Gyllenhaal was chosen instead. Apparently there were rumours Maggie had made "unkind remarks about Holmes' performance."

Gyllenhaal denies the remarks, but thought she should get Holmes' blessing anyway, by email-- then decided, having such kind thoughts about Katie's acting, that he would have to make the character "a whole new woman." Hmm, a woman who can act better? You can read the full story here.

I don't want to get on the "bash Katie Holmes" bandwagon. Jesus Christ, the girl's made a pact with the she-devil, give her a break. But she did look like "I'm a big girl now!" in her role as the assistant district attorney. Maggie looks like someone who's actually been around-- you know, had a real baby, has a real husband, isn't shoved in a cryogenic tube when she gets home.

Besides, the producers would either have to spend a fortune on hair extensions for Katie, or otherwise explain her else hairstyle-- is she now a villainess? "Cleopatra Cruise" or "The Flapper!"

Photo courtesy Warner Brothers