StarWipe

In a new profile for GQ’s cover story on Kim Kardashian, Caity Weaver delves deeply into the superficial life of the woman/commodity about whom she argues—rather convincingly—“not only does she live the American Dream; she has also managed to re-invent it.” Kardashian has taken the debits and assets she’s been given, Weaver writes—“murder, a sex tape, spray tanner, and an ass that simply refuses to quit”—and transformed them into a successful multimedia brand that’s redefined the act of relentless, graceless self-promotion and gratuitous nudity as admirable, body-positive, sociopolitical and artistic statements. And somehow, those who chafe against her being celebrated for fostering the idea of absolute self-centeredness as an aspirational goal, or mock her for “doing nothing” or “just getting naked all the time,” they only make her brand stronger and themselves seem part of a distant past. They’re the ones who are attacked by Kim’s online army as sad, jealous haters hiding fecklessly behind their outdated notions about what a strong, modern woman can be.

According to an exclusive report from People, happily married celebrities Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher are expecting their second child that will soon become the focus of many tabloid write-ups and paparazzi photo ops. Despite the deadening effect of years of being ground beneath the unstoppable progression of obsession with celebrities’ personal lives, it seems it is far from over. There will soon be more of this shit.

“Ashton genuinely lights up when talking about Wyatt and the little one on the way,” said a source close to the couple, who for some reason is excited by the fact that two random people have procreated again—something that happens roughly 15,000 times per hour. Wyatt, of course, is the couple’s 20-month-old daughter, who has been the focus of nearly every single interview either Kutcher or Kunis has conducted over the last two years despite barely being 2 years old and accomplishing nothing of note to justify the world’s intense gaze. As always, the mere fact that her parents were on TV and in the movies is enough to sustain the public’s interest in their biological products—an interest that will soon be doubled, as this forthcoming second child is similarly thrust into the unnecessary limelight to be picked over and analyzed by the content-starved masses.

Gaze upon this undulating mass of taut skin, this jumble of bony carapaces, this snarl of eyelash and jutting jawline. This is for you! You! You have willed this beautiful skein into being with the collective yearning of your empty souls and the ceaseless chatter of your Tumblrs! These are the avatars of your own ineffable longing, joined together now in a twisted embrace of soft sweaters upon the stony inevitable. This is your creation. Look upon it.

In a recent chat with Interview magazine, Hopper Penn reveals that his dad, Sean Penn, almost gave him an even more ridiculous name. “My dad wanted to name me Steak, the food, because he loves it so much,” said Hopper, who was instead named as a tribute to Penn’s friend Dennis Hopper, as well as for his penchant for “hopping” inside his mother Robin Wright’s womb.

The implication that celebrated actor, humanitarian, and definitely not serial abuser Sean Penn looked up from a bloody plate of red meat one day and said, “I want to name my son this,” is as mind-boggling as it is oddly infuriating. And in order to prove how dumb this is, here are 97 alternate things Sean Penn could have named his food-son that are way better.

Ribs

Bits

Nibbles

Crunchmin

Porko

Stick-Meat

Meat-Stick

Meat-Sick

Meatasaurus Rex

Tenderoni

Beefaroni

Ninja Turtles Macaroni

Stake

Stank

Stunk

Trunk

Turnbull

Albanian

Ranktor

Trandall

Thrandall

Ape-smith

Lark

Undermin

Gravelip

Actress Reese Witherspoon posted a new photo to Instagram yesterday in which she was seen “musing over caftans”—musing upon caftans as the darkness encroaches, violence breeds yet more violence, fear triumphs over reason, and the world calcifies along its myriad fractious divides into a bitter, terrified place on the brink of handing its entire future to the squawking manifestation of its primordial lizard brain. The caftan had lemons on it.

Riding high off his success in the recent hit Captain America: Civil War, Robert Downey Jr. remains one of Hollywood’s biggest stars—but his career has seen numerous ups and downs over the past three decades. Let’s take a look back at his tumultuous life and times.

1965: Robert Downey Jr. is born and named after his father—a gritty, in-your-face arthouse director who must be super proud his son is a flying comic-book man in Disney films. 1971: Downey is purportedly allowed to try marijuana for the first time at age 6 in the company of his parents and their friends, which, as we shall soon see, may not have been such a great idea.

1985: Downey joins the cast of Saturday Night Live, a little-known sketch variety show later made famous by Pete Davidson.

1987: Downey achieves critical success with his breakthrough role in the film Less Than Zero, as an out-of-control coke fiend—a role he prepared for by developing a pretty bad coke habit in real life. Downey continued preparing for his role for another 16 years.

In a new report from TMZ, Rob Kardashian and Blac Chyna are demanding a “seven-figure” deal in order to televise their upcoming wedding and what the fuck are we even doing anymore. What is this?

Rob Kardashian is, of course, the youngest son of Robert Kardashian—the attorney who defended his friend, O.J. Simpson, against charges of murdering his wife. That association with an infamous double homicide has led, decades later, not only to knowing that his son, Rob, is getting married, but also the fact that his son makes his own line of socks.

We also know that he’s struggled with his weight and that he was on a dancing show, and now we know that he wants to get married in front of television cameras for over a million dollars, because he’s certain that the constant scrutiny and celebrity privilege that’s been accorded to him—thanks to his dead dad’s wealth and that association with a famous murderer—makes his wedding a lucrative subject of national interest.

And he’s probably right, too. Seriously, what the fuck are we doing?

The internet, the global system of interconnected computer networks that use the internet protocol suite to link billions of devices worldwide, decided to be a real dick about a person’s face today.

The largest collection of data and information the world has ever known bore witness to Meg Ryan presenting at Sunday night’s Tony Awards, where it saw her face. The world’s 3 billion internet connected human residents then proceeded to tee off on her and let her know that her face was unpleasant now.

When it comes to accepting the official 9/11 Commission Report version of what happened on that terrible day of September 11, 2001, are you a true Belieber—or do you beliebe that it was perpetrated by our own government? 

Just one week after the internet went absolutely nuts comparing Daniel Radcliffe to the equally white and square-jawed actor Elijah Wood, the 26-year-old Harry Potter star appeared on The Tonight Show With Jimmy Fallon, where he was confronted with a number of other images of incredibly similar-looking honkies from history. As Jimmy Fallon hilariously proved, Daniel Radcliffe really does look a lot like a bunch of other Anglo whites!

As the visionary French director Jean-Luc Godard said, “[A celebrity photo slideshow] should have a beginning, a middle, and an end, but not necessarily in that order.” In that spirit, behold these daring shots of iconoclastic auteur Quentin Tarantino! This artfully jumbled collection revels in its disrespect for narrative continuity and is an expressive, experimental mindfuck for you, the audience! (Note: A computer screen of at least 13 inches is required to fully experience this slideshow. Do not compromise its aesthetic purity by looking at it on a damn phone.)

Our story opens on a disorienting flash forward to Tarantino celebrating his star on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame. We’ll give you a second to find your bearings. Okay, now notice the parallel between Q.T.’s oeuvre—which traffics in allusion and homage—and this photo that deftly harkens back to other stock photos of people getting their names etched in a sidewalk. That’s what we call “intertextuality.”

To find out how Tarantino became a Hollywood institution, we have to flash back all the way to 1994, when Q.T. won the Palme d’Or at Cannes for his nonlinear masterpiece, Pulp Fiction. Okay, so this is Tarantino at the height of his powers—but how did he get there, huh? Where did it all start? We might just have to flash further back! That’s too confusing? Hey, if you didn’t want narrative whiplash, you should’ve clicked on a chronological slideshow of a clock face! This is what the slideshow experience should be, man. It should stay with you. Haunt you. Leave you thinking.

Are you happy now, you dweebs? Your vitriol and knee-jerk insults punched deep into Aykroyd’s roiling guts, until he had to call a goddamn ambulance.

This Week’s Cover! June 5—June 11, 2016