Hi!!!!
I write to you from Edinburgh airport, horrible Caesar salad and undrinkable Bloody Mary by my side. It has been a sad, slow news week for pop culture (poop culture 🙁 more like) and let me tell ye, I had to plumb the DEPTHS this week. That’s what you like to hear, right??
I am not really interested in Nicki Minaj obsessively going after Megan Thee Stallion, I’m not touching the Taylor Swift AI mess with a ten foot pole, the Barbie/Oscar discourse made me want to chew on live wires and I couldn’t be bothered to listen to Justin Timberlake’s new song. So…… Here’s what’s left!
🙏 SWEETIE RATES 🙏
Feud: Scary Monster
When Harrison Ford isn’t too busy crashing his plane, he is being scared in his own home by his wife, Calista Flockhart. You see, Calista has bravely told The New York Times that she is the Scare Monster:
I’m called the ‘Scare Monster’ in my house because I hide behind every corner,” she said. “And so Harrison will walk in, and then I’ll go, ‘Raaah!’ And he’ll go, ‘W-uy-aah!’ And then I die laughing. I’ll put a plastic spider inside his big ice cubes in the tray, and then he’ll drink it. But then I’ll go to bed two weeks later, and he’s out of town in Jackson, and I’ll take the covers down and there’s this little rubber scorpion. It’s fun.
It’s fun!
I never envy anyone for their relationship as a rule, but this one might actually break the mould for me. Who doesn’t want to be married to sexy, grumpy Harrison Ford and then scare him at every chance you get, even though he is 81?
Her name is literally Calista Flockhart, a Sim name if I’ve ever heard one, of course she’s Like That.
Speaking of couples…
Ready to have your mind blown?
Ohhh ok. I never thought about it like that… Good point Bryan. Thank you for sharing (exclusively)!
The Birth of My Daughter, the Death of My Marriage by Leslie Jamieson
Time to fire up 12ft.io! Love, love, love this piece by Leslie Jamieson for The New Yorker. A heartbreaking story, perfectly written.
🗿 SWEETIE HATES 🗿
Rishi business
PM Rishu Sunak is gearing up for the election, and with miserable polling numbers, he has pulled a compelling new trick out of the hat — his team are leaking that he is starving himself.
Much like the people he rules over during a cost of living crisis, Rishi doesn’t eat for a 36 hour stretch every single week. From Sunday at 10pm to Tuesday at 10am, Rishi survives on black coffee, tea and water. Ok. Cool. Thanks for sharing.
My gripe isn’t the fasting itself — I don’t care about his personal comfort/he is honouring his religion — I just find it so goofy-minded that instead of trying to win people over with policies that are… in any way good or helpful… he is trying to win votes by appealing to the carnivore influencers on Reels who denounce seed oils and sunscreen:
A source close to the PM told The Sunday Times: “It’s true, he doesn’t eat anything at all on a Monday.
“It’s remarkable really given that he is often on visits or doing PMQ prep on a Monday. It’s a real testament to the discipline, focus and determination that he shows in all aspects of his life and work.”
I sense a teeming, thinly-veiled anger within Rishi — like that of David Berkowitz or Ryan Seacrest. It’s beyond being hangry, and it’s not just because he’s short, or rich or stupid… not good looking… lacking in common human decency… malnourished in empathy. He contains a deep well of rage that lies in wait, ever ready, and it always has, and it always will, and no amount of Peloton classes set to Britney Spears will change that.
They’re not doin it
FUCKKKKK. I didn’t know how to tell you this, but here goes nothing…
Irina Shayk and Lewis Hamilton are NOT dating. They’re just good friends. And neighbours! And to add insult to injury, this crucial information was confirmed by a pal. God, not a pal! Anyone but a pal!!!! Thank Christ somebody was on hand to put this pressing mystery to bed.
This would be a strange link up anyway: Irina Shayk has a baby with Bradley Cooper. Bradley Cooper is dating Gigi Hadid. Gigi Hadid allegedly dated Lewis Hamilton in 2015… Ah. This pal might’ve been right to clear this one up. Sorry, pal.
I need it to be over
I’m going to be vulnerable for a moment in the hopes that someone can relate to this — Spotify won’t stop auto-queuing the song It Ain't Over Til’ It’s Over by Lenny Kravitz in my library.
I am at a loss. I have never searched for this song to listen to, nor have I really thought about it since it left the charts in nineteen dickety two, yet there it is, eager to be played after Reelin’ in the Years by Steely Dan, after Loves Me Like a Rock by Paul Simon, after Snowqueen of Texas by The Mamas & the Papas.
Lenny does not belong in this lineup. Lenny does not belong in my algorithm at all, frankly. I only need Lenny when it’s time for my annual rewatch of his privates EXPLODING out of his leather pants on stage. So many tears I’ve cried…
Bye bye now!