Mick Isn’t Murdered, Plus! Big Bellied Bimbos of the Stars! at The Insider

We’ve spent way too much energy scrutinizing celebrity paunches lately, don’t you agree? Way too much—glaring and staring at this or that bimbos belly, trying to figure out, clinically speaking, if there’s a baby crammed up in there somewhere. And what the problem is is these damn starletts these days. They think they’re SO above the game.

Well, sister. Listen up.

If you endeavor to become famous, the world owns you. Owns you! Baring your bowel movements and boring crap like who you vote for, the public deserves and demands to know every bitty little detail about your wretched life. We all know this instinctively: It is the Immutable and Universal Law of Fame. Know I don’t really give two cents worth of crap if anybody is pregnant or not, unless it’s me (and it never is), but everyone else in the world seems to, and it’s my duty—my raison d’etre-–to tell them.

So why do we spend all this time lately breaking our eyeballs trying to figure out if all these famous biznitches are pregnant or merely suffering from inoperable uteran tumors? Why don’t they just come out and TELL US when their buns start baking? The world deserves to know, and they know it, and you know it, and I know it, and dammit, God knows it, even rocks know it. We should be officially informed the second the sperm penetrates the egg wall, and if the celebrity doesn’t immediately and willingly provide the public with the information, they should be punished severely for serious breach of social contract. Have their fame revoked and their baby fined. And their weaves pulled and their ankles twisted. And take their Starbuck’s away for, uh, one month.

That would fix ‘em.

And yeah, I guess Kate Hudson is knocked up (or living on cheese burgers and Mountain Dew) because she getting fatter by the second and not saying a word about it. Surely God is going to punish her. I’m tired of looking at her belly.

God I hate babies. And pregnant women. And birth. And famous people. And placenta. And so forth.

But I love you.

In other news: The Hell’s Angels apparently once tried to murder Mick Jagger. They declared a Jihad on him because he pissed them off a long time ago or something. The whole story has just come out in some weird documentary. Apparently they have not been, to date, entirely successful. The big pussies.