Shirtless Piven. There but for the grace of God…
Three straight days of uninterrupted sunshine and mirth in Door County, Wisconsin have delivered me a bunch of largemouth bass and a tan that would make the Jersey Shore cast envious. In their honor, I call it the “douchebag tan” and I’ve got one. If the wrinkled brown leather shoe fits…
After a long run along Highway 57 I spent the better part of the day in a lawn chair overlooking Kangaroo Lake. For my reading pleasure I had several of my wife’s gossips mags and a tattered GQ. Hence my gnarly tan and the following other superficial tidbits…
Oh, Momma, how could you? (Oh, that’s right. You’re a teen.)
Can anything on our forever dumbing-down planet be more pathetic than the reality show about a Teen Mom. Good God, this makes Sarah Palin’s show seem like Masterpiece Theater. I’m reading about this poor, silly girl and her endless fights with the father of her 2-year old child. Apparently, the latest episode had her contemplating suicide in a garage. Good thing the crew found her, right? Or she would have died in there! Jesus. If this show were any more wrong it’d be right.
Then I’m into this piece in GQ about Dr. Drew and his TV Empire of Recovery. The good doctor somehow claims the highroad despite a never-ending parade of Z-grade addict-celebrities traipsing across his doorstep and in front of the cameras. If you ask me, they’re all hooked on fame, even though it’s completely humiliating.
I was a doctor. Now I play one on TV…
Last and maybe least is the 4-page print ad for Smart Water featuring the ubiquitous Jeremy Piven. I say ubiquitous because of all the stars in Hollywood, he’s the one you always see. Friends of ours in Hollywood have a standing drink bet that every time they go out he’ll be there. “He likes to be seen.” As for the Smart Water ad, a whole bunch of glib copy tries to link this fading star with good works in the name of smart thinking. I don’t know. To me Piven seems like he’s a casting call away from visiting Dr. Drew.
When it first came out I adored Entourage. But then it and its cast got old. After I don’t know how many seasons the show is finally folding up its tent. Who cares, right?
Anyway, I hope you appreciated this unavoidably cynical, condensed version of the tabs. It’s getting near dusk. Time to go fishing!
