It was when I were in LA that I walked past a massive church with a gaudy vertical sign stating in big bold letters the one word that demonstrates such an odd alternative side of America: Scientology. The religion has been making dramatic and very bold headlines, especially because it has managed to recruit some of the biggest top guns in Hollywood. The creator famously once said: Celebrities are very Special people and have a very distinct line of dissemination. They have comm[unication] lines that others do not have and many medias [sic] to get their dissemination through (Flag Order 3323, 9 May 1973). What a prophetic genius Ron was to actively target celebrities. It’s simply hard to know whether Ron know the fallacies of trying to promote such a divisive religion with the gaggle of misfit celebrities that have thus far been enlisted. And perhaps he should have guessed there would be a rival, faddish religion to target the ‘slebs, in this case Kabbalah, as opposed to the relatively more canon of celebs that joined the Kabbalah faith (with ‘magical wonder (and overpriced) water’ and fashionable bands worn by some major A-listers).
The Hollywood story for this week is a fully researched melodrama akin to some of the best Hollywood exposes yet. It’s a silently powerful sleeper of a tale; an inverted love story featuring the doe-eyed, listless Katie Holmes escaping from a small and tiny – but ultimately very controlling husband, Tom Cruise with a little girl in the middle who is followed endlessly by waiting papparazzi. Several of the stories we’ve heard so far of the religion itself revolve around the little known process of auditing the mind to repress any tendencies that don’t conform within the branch of Scientology. Ultimately this has led to multiple conspiracy theories about what is hidden about the members – noticeably Tom Cruise and John Travolta. Certainly one particular article I’ve witnessed demonstrates just how potent a religion it really is. In particular the coverage has progressed to a full unveiling of the Sea Org location which has been deemed the Scientologist equivalent of a religious order and is thought to be about 6,000 strong. Better than any of Cruise’s recent movies (who has time to even add a note about Holmes’) we have seen several members talk about the horrors of the religion, the darkness (the hole, which sounds pretty akin to the prison from The Mount of Monte Cristo), the auditing. And thereafter, when people realise that the religion has too much ownership over their lives, the calls in the middle of the night from members trying to keep ex-members on their books (the retention team for the soul, or some equally passe name I’d imagine), which makes the whole religion sounds even further like a viable Hitchcockian thriller. On top of this, the divorce between TomKat took just two weeks to finalise, leading the general public to question just exactly what Katie had on Tom, or what Tom has been trying to hide from the public for a while.
And the revelations about the all American boy are starting to surface, specifically as to why Katie ran through the fire exit instead of the front door in terms of the divorce. For starters he apparently sees himself as an OT: an Operating Thetan. To refer to Reitman’s investigation about Scientology this week, she notes that: ‘OTs can allegedly move inanimate objects with their minds, leave their bodies at will and telepathically communicate with, and control the behaviour of, both animals and human beings’ and ‘at the highest levels, they are allegedly liberated from the physical universe, to the point where they can psychically control what Scientologists call MEST: Matter, Energy, Space and Time.’ One can only imagine how incredibly exhilarating it would be to act as a fly on the wall at a meeting and see how many of these myths are discernible from reality. Certainly the revelation I saw ‘revealed’ today has kept me guessing about the secret lives of the Hollywood elite. That blind tag is listed below : This celebrity couple is close to a final agreement over how everything – including the child/ren – is going to be divided in the divorce. However, the wife’s legal team is having her keep one chip in her pocket for the divorce trial. If the husband’s team tries any last-minute maneuvering, the wife is not afraid to reveal an incident where she (along with their child/ren) caught her husband in bed with a family friend of theirs. The friend is a professional athlete. In case you’ve been wondering why the couples rarely get together for more than an hour and a photo op – this is the reason.
Whatever the case, this information is true gold dust and let us hope more revelation keeps on coming with this firecracker of a story, and another week in the lives of the major Hollywood players.
Hollywood: a town cloaked in secrets and lies. Originally, in the golden days of Hollywood, where everyone had a talent – and celebrities were respected, we believed implicitly in the celebrity leading clean and honourable lives. The studios were able to suppress any scandal which could threaten the careers of their stars – and managed to with a great deal of panache. When the studios ceded power to the agents, managers and publicists of the individual star, it was their role to keep the candle burning by maintaining the illusions and white lies that kept their stars marketable, successful and – above all – financially viable. And when celebrities started to get loose and reckless we noticed. When they started to stem from reality television shows and celebrity parents we embraced them, These people lacked talent and more importantly lacked class and sophisication. So the boundaries of the celebrity relationship started to change quickly. Privacy was ignored for many, a forgotten concept for others and, with our obsession with the celebrity growing and growing, secrets started to creep out faster and faster. Those cover ups and the unknown facets of celebrity lives has allowed the magazine rags a huge business with publications looking to discover gold dust whether possible. If they have to make a few lies and fabrications of their own to sell copies, they’ll do that too.
And it is the National Enquirer that has became the boss of fact and fiction. The special areas they cover include: sexuality, sexually transmitted diseases, drugs and celebrities carted off to rehab, dodgy bribes, bad behaviour, diva behaviour, violence, extra-marital affairs, affairs in general, the list can go on and on really.
For hot messes like Britney Spears, Chris Brown and Lindsay Lohan we have been the voyeurs into their breakdown stages – a week or so of unrelenting coverage as we watch the celebrity lose the plot in front of a paparazzi. Britney’s hairless, knickerless week of madness was gripping news, Chris Brown using his fists on superstar Rhianna had everybody talking and Lindsay Lohan’s general last few years have guaranteed designated weeks of wonderful coverage about Lindsay’s latest (drugs busts, home arrests, twitter spats etc), which people like myself can’t get enough of. This week the celebrity caught under the radar is John Travolta: a superstar whose reputation is curdling fast. John has been a major player in Hollywood since the 70s, where he played a bad-ass jock in Carrie; danced to The Bee Gees’ melodic harmonies in Saturday Night Fever and danced and sang his way into Sandy’s leather pants in the perennial favourite, Grease.
John flying high in the glory days.
For a while his career went off the boil as he went from dirge to dirge, before having a minor success in the Look Who’s Talking series, with a co-star whose fluctuating weight is just as noteworthy as his, Kirsty Alley. His big star turn in Pulp Fiction however meant that John could always be guaranteed work, as he was the dude who had a legendary conversation about hamburgers. From then on he was cool and slick. So Johnny will be hoping he can hang on to that image as he attempts to survive the week ahead. So far there have been three lawsuits with the possibility of ‘one hundred’ more, although one has already been dropped and another not being taken to trial. Currently we have had five men come forward to say that John has behaved in an improper, sleazy fashion. The damage is mounting fast, although kudos are in order for John’s lawyer who is deftly deflecting the lawsuits as best he can, referring in direct terms that these lawsuits are all hack-handed and all a sort of pulpy fiction his client barely has time to acknowledge. The news couldn’t fail to hit red alert status when it related to seedy massage parlours all over LA, our attentions by then hit fever pitch. The stories, if we piece them together revolves around John paying big bucks for a session and being happy to discuss the ‘bad deeds’ he had to do to secure a television role with Jewish producers (if the stories are a work of fiction, it was a deft touch of the first masseur to add the Jewish tag in for maximum authenticity). Whilst divulging this fairly big news to a stranger, John would peel away the towel hiding his gluts. After that John would quickly get up close and personal with the masseur with those (surprisingly) nimble, flabby digits of his. The result, supposedly at this present stage is hundreds of people queuing for million dollar compensation payments.John’s famous kiss.
John’s wife and children must be reeling from the revelations and the Church of Scientology can’t be too delighted either. They must have to ultimately decide whether to cut the hand that feeds the church or dispel him back to the parlours that seem to litter LA. Luckily if he gets desperate he could always ask advice from his bbf, Oprah’s best friend Gail, who has spent the best part of two decades having to deny rumours she’s having a relationship with Oprah.
The research for the first lawsuit, now dropped, was fascinating. We tracked that John was in NY, as opposed to LA on that day eating dinner at Mr Chow’s. He spent $382 and left a $100 tip. Some have speculated that with a bill that mammoth, he must have been eating with a few people. Or at least his portly bbfs, Oprah, Kirsty Alley or the fat kid from Hairspray. Although having said that, based on the size of John Travolta, it’s not overly surprising that he could rake up a $400 bill all by himself. Others have suggested that John, being a trained pilot, he could have been dashed back to LA to put his grand plan of getting a masseur under his belt by the end of the night. Conspiracy theories begun quickly. This was probably gawkers pushing the envelope of reality, but people were enjoying adding an extra level of grease to an already awkward situation for John.
A family united?
John had two major slurs to his name prior to the recent oral explosions that have shaken up Hollywood. The first occurred when his supposed friend, Carrie Fisher implied that it was an open secret he was gay, telling the Advocate that everyone knew and ‘she was sorry he wasn’t comfortable about it.’ It’s hard to tell whether she remotely considered his wife and children when she happily divulged these details to a magazine such as The Advocate, however his wife can only have been thrilled with these little slips of tongues she had. In fact she probably must have demanded a muffin basket from Carrie for would have been the metaphorical shaving of her beard – if you get what I mean. Maybe though, if Kelly really bought in to the whole Scientology thing, she could have confided in the church which she’s been a prominent member of for a number of years. I’ve heard if you can drop a few seven digit donations, salvation somewhere in the universe is possible for people like John and Kelly Travolta.
On top of this rather awkward declaration from a friend of his, an article spread like wildfire over the internet a few years ago. Entitled The Secret Sex Life of John Travolta, it was an article that so incensed the star his lawyer threatened to sue. As it mocked, very openly, John’s sexual history so far, referring to his penchant for bad wigs and his wandering genitals. John was then further knocked for a 66 when a book called You’ll Never Spa in This Town again was published. The salacious revelations were never ending from this novel. Riper than the juiciest of California’s fruits, John’s habits, desires and obsessive sexual urges were candidly unveiled for the public as the author liberally caved in to the several meetings he’d shared with Travolta, displaying an almost cathartic pleasure in ringing in the dollars from such a huge celebrity icon.
And this week looks like the rumour mill is just to start all over again. John was apparently so infatuated with his Grease co-star, that he tried to make a move on Jeff Conaway whilst he was unconscious. Whilst I’ll let you discover the details for yourself, it’s clear that nobody will be able to watch Grease now without the image of Danny getting with Sandy, only to ditch her for his fellow leather-loving best friend. The revelation was seedy, shocking and hugely gripping to the public. And considering I thought the lawsuits would be the end of the week for John Travolta, it looks like a thirty plus career is bringing about a lot of past-revelations, be they true or fictious, that have been saved for a rainy day. John will be dying to get back to basics. Fly his planes, wears his make up and wigs (complete with a generous amount of hairspray of course), make a few movies, spend time with his two kids and wife (and potentially visit a few saunas)… the stuff he did before everyone got on his coattails.
Whatever happens, it goes to show just how intense one week in Hollywood can be for the rich and famous.
Picture the scene: Beverley Hills, home to the rich, famous, successful – and also to the Real Housewives. With Paris and her family being regulars of the exclusive suburb, and it being the area it is, it’s hardly a giant surprise that one of the most successful hotels in the neighbourhood is the Beverley Hilton – after all it is the playground for the ‘slebs who have made it to the top of their game. And it was there that 48 year old Whitney died this week in a bathtub surrounded by a cocktail of prescription drugs, booze and the most gourmeted of fast food available in America. The first time anyone saw her after she died her tongue and feet had turned blue; it was a lonely death. This lavish disorder will help turn the Beverley Hilton into a vantage point for those fans obsessed with both scandal and anything vaguely ghoulish. No doubt in the future there will be confirmed reoprts that Whitney’s voice echoes around the 434 suite.
Tragic celebrity deaths I have discovered are salacious and they also manage to turn the public into vultures descending at the corpse for clues and further information as to the cause of the demise. In my writing alone, I have acknowledged the death of two juggernauts of the music industry because there seems a canon of things to say, something entirely readable and totally write-able to the author and the reader.
Why as an avid reader and analyser of celebrity culture is this the case? I’m gotta give it my best shot to explain why.
Hotel California lyrically seems to uncover fairly aptly what we love to hear about: avarice and hedonism, greed and destruction. Even the Hotel itself has mystical powers with the final line being “you can check out, but you can never leave”. This song is cloaked in mystery, with many saying it revolves around the ghosts of the Chateau Marmont in L.A, and others saying it has its meaning within the Illuminati (whatever the case, it definitely feels appropriate with how Whitney bowed out). But I digress, the point of such a song is the ability to break through the surface, much the same way we try and discover the secrets of celebrities, their scandal hidden beneath the surface. In the 30s and 40s, celebrities were part of the studio system, this system had the power, for its press agent were in total cahoots with the press, meaning that many of the scandals of the stars were discovered far later, and way past their heyday. In one particular book I read, I was stunned to discover that one movie icon, Lana Turner married a man after a date in Los Angeles in Las Vegas on the same night (and this was also the first date!) This act of rebellion was to assert some power and agency in her life. Stars nowadays have the freedom to do more of what they like (not completely; again, everything is shrouded in secrecy) but have to accept that their lack of privacy is just something they can whine about to Oprah and Vanity Fair. The website TMZ alone uncovers further celebrity clues by following inebriated stars out of clubs and restaurants showering them with the most personal and crass of questions A couple of years ago these same hacks hounding the stars got a collection of tits and ass shots of celebrities in a state of undress. The media, we can safely say is now boss.
It’s hardly surprising that Whitney dying alone in a bathtub, surrounded by drugs and alcohol is the scandal that has people paying attention here.
A two-way street for celebs in the digital age as shown by stars like Demi Moore in particular. She gives us the goods via a never-ending twitter feed only then to be deeply uprooted of privacy and respect when she has a mid-life crisis/breakdown. The shots of her devastated at a recent funeral for her ‘second mother’ were tacky, and the shots of her being shuffled into rehab were humiliating for her. Yet we still read all about it and are the ultimate voyeurs.
We do it because we are escaping reality, but we also get hot tips of current styles, brands and looks as well as knowing exactly where the celebrities are, whenever we need to know, whether it means anything or not.
With Whitney and voyeurism she fell into the second great voyeurs’ trap: reality television. In Being Bobby Brown (a typical kind of title hinting at everyday celebrity lives) Whitney commits the ultimate faux-pax by simply appearing in a programme where Bobby told the world and his mother about how he had to give Whitney an enema. This wasn’t the one moment in time Whitney wanted the world to know about. The biggest voyeuristic moment however is the shameless photo that emerged from the bathroom in the house where Whitney spent seven consecutive months hiding from reality. Sad… but we still lapped it up anyway.
It’s not right to condemn anyone really… but it’s okay if they’re a ‘sleb behaving badly. Just the other day Sean Penn waded in to the Falklands question by stating that Britain was behaving like colonists by keeping the islands British. A worthy sentiment I guess for an actor who wants to prove he has far higher intelligence than other actors his age (one-time-winning-now-obviously losing Charlie Sheen and Mickey Rourke – one word: the face) but how will this help Haiti? Celebs have a tough audience because everyone’s a critic. When Whitney utters a line like ‘crack is whack’ we can only aim and take fire. Whether it’s special treatment, bad surgery or bad career/romance choices, we the public, who buy into the brand believe ourselves entitled to give our two cents whether the celebs wanna hear it or not. Need I mention what the public originally thought – and is still thinking – of Bobby’s prerogative on life.
The Body Beautiful:
A shallow addiction but a shallower industry, we must have a 360′ came purely for the celeb body at all times. The reason for this is as simple as the philosophy that you’re only as hot as the next batch of celebrities entering the domain. Whitney’s gaunt emaciated figure only fuelled the obvious, that drugs were ravaging the body (much like they did Jacksons’). Again it is out role to inform the brand whatever way we can what’s hot and what’s really not. Whitney’s face, bloated like a soccer mum on a pit stop to Wendy’s was the clue that she was not looking after herself… and hadn’t been for quite a while.
Obviously a big thing without my having to reference programmes like SNL. Well it was American Dad that featured a desperate Whitney performing for Stan and Francine’s anniversary purely for a bag of coke. Whitney’s problems became tongue-in-cheek jokes across the country, even my friend gave me a poster once with the title ‘Don’t feed Whitney any more crack!’ Just before her death, another friend sent a link to her final outing with the text, you must write an article about this. That’s the life of the celebrity. Their messy antics make for great entertainment, it’s undeniable. Just the comments section of any website is the perfect example for people to make witty puns about stupid celebs. Again, we lap it up.
What we live for. A movie without the final scenes. Whether it be whether Marilyn was assassinated or committed suicide or whether Phil Spector really did kill that girl from the bar for another reason, we love the idea of stars leading double lives and are desperate to grab for the dirt. This manifests in Hollywood literatures (which I read and love) referring to all the characters going on crack binges, having affairs and backstabbing each other to buggery.
The conspiracy theories about Whitney that are my favourite: well, naturally that a), she was a secret lesbian and b), that Osama Bin Laden hated America as much as he did but loved the declining Whitney Houston, to the extent where he wanted to kill Bobby Brown. As long as there are unauthorised books…and there are rumours like those, we’ll always have time for gold – and I really mean gold – like that.
The sting of Hollywood continues as pills and liquor still rules the lives of many. And we will, for right or wrong, be there to follow these stars every step of the rehab-ing way. The gospel singer turned American starlet turned wife and mother ending on a wrong turn from those humble christian roots to rather sad crack addict. Luckily her attributes in voice will live on. Discos will continue to play I Wanna Dance With Somebody just as funerals will continue to play I Will Always Love You. Divorcees will still listen to Didn’t We Almost Have It All? and I’ll still listen on occasion to the ridiculously catchy My Name is Not Susan.
A fallen icon but a true Hollywood legend none the less with fans who’ll love her eternally. For many that’s the greatest love of all.
A couple of months ago I wrote a piece about the curse of the Disney child star. Whilst all of the article could have merely referred to Lindsanity, I attempted to branch out and discuss the other casualties from the amazingly successful corporation that is Walt Disney Inc. Since then, I have had some serious cravings to know literally everything about the ongoing car crash that is Lindsay Lohan’s life. Part of me feels this is naturally invasive because, of course, Lindsay needs some serious help and control in her life, however, Lindsay’s life feels as much a public attraction as Disneyland itself. The truth is that I am still hooked on the drug that is Lindsay Lohan.
When I wrote my previous article, Lindsay had only just begun serving her house arrest, where she famously did interviews in her rented pad. Interviews she must have realised were a PR nightmare, but then again, what can you expect from a woman who has had a disastrous year. I firmly believe a bestseller biography could be quickly thrown together for the Christmas holidays entitled ‘Lindsay Lohan’s life in 2011: What Happened?’, because the Lord knows there’s enough material for such an endeavor. I naturally can’t wait to read about her next move, inappropriate I know, especially with everything going on. Let’s look to the year and remember all the key moments in such a fruitful year for Hollywood’s newest bad girl.
Plastic surgery…or Lindsay’s ever changing face.
Um…it’s hard to fully ascertain what Lindsay has done with her face. Certainly dying her hair a steely blonde from the more vivid red has been a mistake as it makes her skin rather lifeless and pasty. Then again, it hasn’t helped that Lindsay has most definitely fillered her face to buggery and developed some nasty mountains some would call eye bags. As a guest to Kim Kardashian’s infamous seventy-two day joke of a marriage, Lindsay managed to break the golden rule by wearing white, however – screw that rule, the biggest problem was her seriously swollen face. Mostly rightly say she had become bloated, yet the main issue was that even her own mum, Dina looked better as she was age-appropriate, i.e. 49 trying to be in her 40s, with Lindsay 25 and looking about 47. The image, as you can see is where her cheeks look like two mountains of poorly-applied vaseline and a range of other make up products giving a truly oily ‘Turkish’ complexion. One could quickly realise, even by LA standards that she was going beyond the point of no return. Lindsay had managed to accessorize this look with the trout pout, a second surgical job that has obviously managed to make her face look like a bad cartoon, as if she were doing an SNL skit as Ivana Trump without ironic makeup to finalise the look. Recently Lindsay managed to criminally apply some blusher when she made one of her regular appearances in the LA courthouse, which made her even more ghostly and haggard, appropriate for her community service work at the morgue only.
The affair of the necklace:
Not since Marie Antoinette has a necklace courted so much controversy. The $2500 piece of jewelry meant Lindsay had to pay a far higher price, both financially and judicially. The whole incident occurring in February of this year seems a shame, as the one thing Lindsay has seemingly got right is having a fixed term address she can pay bills for (Lindsay famously moved into a $7,100 per month rental unit in Venice Beach, making her a next door neighbour to ex-lover, Sam Ronson. This was also the area of the so-called theft). Whilst it seems unclear if Lindsay Lohan is going to continue going down the Peaches Geldof route, it certainly seemed like a marvelous mess with Lindsay not working and now resorting to stealing dubious (downright ugly) jewelry. Her excuse was hardly watertight either, stating that, naturally she wasn’t going to return the jewelry and clear up the confusion. Still, it was a win-win situation for the shop. Without having to put a sign saying ‘Lindsay Lohan stole here,’ they nicely managed to make a quick buck by selling the CCTV tape to any available buyers. Only in LA.
Meet Mr and Ms. Lohan:
This subject is a lucrative goldmine. A family that is as well-known and as bizarre as their famous offspring. For years I have demanded a reality show based on the lives of the family. There was, in the noughties, a show called Living With the Lohans, oddly not featuring Lindsay, and, less oddly, not featuring Michael Lohan. Here was our best chance to get to know momager Dina, and the the younger Lohan clan. Dina’s purpose of this host was basically a massive PR hike, to get her now emaciated and surgically enhanced daughter, Ali into the public eye. Understandable for a woman who treated her eldest as a cash-cow, however, therein lies the problem. The show was being shown around the time Lindsay begun to build her salacious reputation for booze, drugs and unprofessionality. Over the years many have questioned Dina’s role, after all surely she should really tow the line and get Lindsay a dozen batches of rehab and family therapy vouchers, right?! No, Dina has choosen a bizarre plan B instead, most noticeably recently when she had a spout of maternal bonding with her eldest…drinking. Yes, the girl who visited rehab several times because of her two DUI convictions polished off at least three bottles of wine with mommie dearest, only to wash all that booze down with a packet of cigarettes with not a salad leaf in sight. And that’s only what has been publicised for our greedy eyes to view. Dina’s decision to be an enabler is quite reprehensible. But then we can expect little less from a woman who must have had significant impact in pushing Lindsay on to the cover of Playboy. After all, Dina is her momager. Luckily for all the tabs out there, Dina was kind enough to tell us that the shoot was going well and – a first for Playboy surely – was tasteful. One can see the dollar signs in Dina’s eyes, yet it’s a great shame that Dina can’t see the tacky fact she is earning 10% off her daughter getting her Lohans out, and practically praising Lindsay’s decision to do it in the first place.
And the father? The one that Lindsay no longer speaks to, unless it’s through an aggressive spat on twitter? Well Michael can certainly match Lindsay on police mugshots, and also hits a new low for the Lohans every time he touches the sauce. Michael Lohan though clearly has not enough of a paternal connection not to get paid top $$$ to appear on American talk shows to tell the world he thinks his daughter is smoking some grade A crystal meth. With parents like this who needs enemies?! Michael, the born-again christian, and supposedly still tee-totaller has managed to maintain his profile by getting a slot on Dr Drew’s Celebrity Rehab, the only shock was that the programmers managed to fit in other ‘zslebs’ around this man with a conveyor belt of emotional ‘issues’. On the programme we could witness Michael getting involved with a fracas with his current girlfriend. Well, maybe current is inappropriate, after all, whilst Lindsay is living under house arrest, Michael seems set to join; the girlfriend has charged Michael with domestic battery. And like Lindsay, Michael doesn’t believe in following the rules of the state ignoring the clear citation not to be in contact with his ex, as he broke the rule in a day. Knowing the police were on him, Michael decided to jump out a three-story window (true, unbelievably) which is why his appearances in court are currently with him in a wheelchair. The plot derails further (probably the most accurate description with this famililes’ ongoing drama) however, the girlfriend who files the charges recently twatted a air hostess on the plane. There are currently unconfirmed rumours that she was drunk, all of this could effectively be used as an anti-alcohol campaign quite easily. Certainly Michael Lohan needs to retire from public speaking and appearances. He must surely regret appearing on Celebrity Boxing (again, we all laugh at such a move) and, from the recent evidence, must accept that Dr Drew’s rehab was an unmitigated failure….
Bad press and aggressive behaviour:
It’s not been a good year for Lindsay in terms of her public standing. Just the other day Lindsay, trying to get her reputation on track has been hit with a counter-lawsuit from rapper Pitbull. Lindsay was suing Pitbull for the lyric ‘I’ve got it locked like Lindsay,’ which Lindsay thinks sullies her good character. Jokes aside, Lindsay was actually serious, and Pitbull (who should be amazed he still has a successful career) is not happy, stating that Lindsay first of all should not sue him in New York when she’s barely in New York, and, more damning, the lyrics aren’t inaccurate.
Lindsay has also begun to lose her limited clout in Hollywood. Stories have surfaced she got rejected from a Marc Jacobs party, and, just as disastrous even more recently Lindsay got blanked by Leonardo DiCaprio when she begged his team for a photo at another big gathering. Her behaviour at this event was deemed random and aggressive, it could also turn out to be a career-killer too.
With bad press and dubious lawsuits, let’s not forget Lindsay has not helped herself either. With a permanent smirk and an obsession with bad timing (who can forget her interview, under house arrest, where she stated that prison was simply for murderers), Lindsay is seen as the spoilt brat. In 2012, she’s gotta do a massive 180 and make sure she looks like she cares about the pressure she’s putting on her publicist. The Lord knows that person needs an around-the-world trip as a reward for such a year.
Gotti be working…?
In 2010, Lindsay took on the role of porn star extraordinare, Linda Lovelace (probably about as intelligent a role as Mel Gibson playing Barbra Streisand’s love interest). Due to Lindsay’s ability to get tied up in legal dramas, along with her ability to be uninsurable, Lindsay had to bow out of this. Still 2011 could only be better than that, surely? Well, disappointingly for her, no. In fact, her own DA had to reference her clients lack of job offers as a defence for why Lindsay had to skip her probation when she actually got some unexpected modelling work. Lindsay could have had the opportunity to immerse herself in a gangster movie, which always seem to be popular in Hollywood. Playing the wife (instead of the daughter) with John Travolta as husband, it surely could have been a huge success. It certainly would have been the much needed transition to adult star (but not of the Linda Lovelace variety) she needed. Again, due to Lindsay’s troubles with the law, it’s now apparent Lindsay will not play a Gotti, which I personally think is a great shame. After all, her legal troubles would have actually added to her performance for the role, for a change. In 2012, to save the word actress being taken off her biography, Lindsay needs to take on and complete one film, at least.
Above are, of course, the mugshots that have demonstrated the progression of her current life. Even Michael took fifty years to get to 5 separate shots. Whilst everyone has an opinion about this incident of Lindsay’s life, at least Lindsay has perfected her court room outfit. Her recent polka dot dress was a huge success.
And finally, from the morgue to Playboy
Rock bottom may be Lindsay’s forte but she does well to get out of a tight squeeze. Having been a boob for the last year, she’ll now get a cool million for showing her pair off, with Dina smiling to the bank out of frame. Naturally one couldn’t have expected less of Lindsay, although many suggested prison or rehab could have been the end of her 2011 year. Lindsay is now actually showing up to the morgue, after she finally bought a sat nav. Naturally there is now a belief she might actually finish her community service. Obviously we hope so. After that, 2012 could be her comeback year. I’ll definitely be paying full attention. Other then that, I must thank Li-Lo for everything she’s done to keep me entertained and hooked to the edge of my seat. Keep up the good work, love!