Grimes Entering Her 'Lemonade' Era...
A Canadian and a bridge troll break up, Normani works with props, obligatory Chastain talk, Nicole Richie sets herself ablaze, Lee Pace's hips, a pop ceasefire, and more rated Top Shelf to Low Brow!
Hello and welcome to the very first official Tuesday letter! This was formerly The Monday Letter, but due to consistent scheduling conflicts and efforts to try and balance my sleep schedule for once, things have shifted. I’m so glad you’re here! It’s the same as it always was, so let’s get into it!
Top Shelf, Low Brow: September 21 — 27
Waiting to Exthale
When even the most well-matched couples in the world can’t last, what hope is there for the rest of us? And yes, this is this week’s top story.
Grimes and her ugly, evil goblin boyfriend have officially separated, as confirmed by America’s most judicious and infallible news source, Page Six. The couple will continue to co-parent their child, X Æ A-Xii Musk.
Need I remind everyone that last time Grimes was sad—at least about something other than the opioid crisis or the fact that her doctor told her to stop eating spaghetti for every meal because she was so malnourished—we got Art Angels, revered by anyone with taste as one of the best breakup albums of the century? I rest my case. If the new record could meld the heartbreaking lyrical prose “Flesh Without Blood” combined with the current 2002 European House techno she’s been previewing, I fear for my own sanity!
As for what will happen to Elon Musk? He had a nice run of relevancy, but now it’s time to say goodbye once more. And hey, he tried his best! A lot of publicists dream of having clients who start off their summer debuting a weird but completely unsurprising relationship with a waifish Canadian færie musician and ending it being taken to task by Azealia Banks while she’s still roaming the halls of your estate, looking for an exit after being hired to write music with your girlfriend and then abandoned when you both fled the property. As far as I’m concerned, 72% of his quarterly earnings should be put directly in an account for Ms. Banks. No one on Earth would have a Tesla if she never started one of history’s great shitstorms with this:
Now, this newsletter does not trade in rumors (at least not beyond when I said Zoë Kravitz has a fetish for dating cute-to-hot men and making them hotter and dumber before dumping them, but I think we all know that’s true) but I do love some delightfully suspicious timing. A few days ago, influencer/podcast host Michaela Okland tweeted a fake story about her seeing Noah Centineo and Grimes making out at Olive Garden, with several cursory, small-name media outlets picking up the rumor as a blind item. Two days later, Grimes and Musk had split. I, too, would feel inadequate and impotent next to Noah “Show Me How You Squirt” Centineo—and at least I’m hot!—but losing it over a mere rumor is absurd. Just goes to show that you can have all the money in the world, but a big dick and a deal to turn out five shitty Netflix projects a year always win out in the end.
(Rating: Low Brow)
You’re no one in this town until you’re lit on fire!
Add Nicole Richie accidentally setting herself ablaze by blowing out the candles furthest away from her on her birthday cake to my list of favorite unfortunate things to happen to celebrities, including Nicole Kidman getting hit by a paparazzi on a bike, Dakota Johnson being sprayed by skunks four times in one year, and Blake Lively being stung by bees on her birthday. More on Nicole Richie’s flame-broiled encounter from our Top Shelf, Low Brow ground correspondents:
If you know, you know.
(Rating: Top Shelf)
Until Wendy returns, I guess we have The Jessica Chastain Beat
I just can’t seem to stop talking about Jessica Chastain. I’m not sure exactly how and when this happened (despite it very obviously happening when she debuted the short-lived French-Italian accent, but I swear, it really crept up on me), but I can’t say I’m exactly unhappy about it. Until just a few short months ago, J. Chaz was mostly a nonfactor in my life unless I would fall into a rant about Molly’s Game, a film where everyone talks at light speed and you’re only able to identify Molly’s age through the years by how dark her horrific eyeshadow becomes. The only thing that Molly was playing was fast and loose with a NARS palette. But now? I’m an empowered Chastainiac. Something has clicked, and I feel like I really get her. I’ve finally given her the Instagram follow she’s been so desperately vying for from me, and by god, she did not disappoint.
Gotta say, this feels like very specifically tailored content! Essentially algorithmic. I love Gossip Girl, Azealia Banks, and women holding awards for achievement in acting! The more I type that out, the more I need you to know that I’m very much aware whoever is helping run her social media finally convinced her that she needs to appeal directly to the queer people first and foremost. And hey, I’m not above a little pandering! Lindsay Lohan is trapped in Dubai tweeting about NFTs and holding the streaming rollout of “Xanax” hostage and Amy Adams is willingly acting in Dear Evan Hansen alongside a 34-year-old gay man pretending to be 28. Someone has to take up the mantle! If queer people don’t have a chosen redhead to throw our support behind, our species dies out in days.
(Rating: Top Shelf)
Why even have the illusion of a live mic?
(Rating: Low Brow)
Joyeux Noelmily!
I’m not sure I could ask for a better Christmas present than the chance to cuddle up under twelve blankets with my AC, two glasses of wine deep while the tree lights twinkle in my face, to binge a good half of the second season of Emily in Paris in one sitting. Yes, that’s right, everyone’s least favorite Darren Starr show will be returning to Netflix just in time for a little Yuletide merriment—on December 22nd, Lily Collins and the eyebrows she has insured for one million dollars (each) will be heading back to the City of Lights for a little slice of Buche de Noël. I couldn’t tell you a single god damn plot point of the first season despite watching it start to finish, but my god am I looking forward to giving my brain a nice microwaving this holiday season.
(Rating: C’est magnifique!)
We have reached a Ceasefire!
With as many atrocities as The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences continues to enact year after year—including but not limited to snubbing Doja Cat’s “Boss Bitch” from the Best Original Song category in a year when the pandemic should’ve essentially assured at least a nomination—it’s surprising that they’re the reason that the 2011-2013 pop wars that pushed the earth off its axis have finally come to an end. At The Academy Museum of Motion Pictures Gala last week, we finally saw the last two soldiers lay down their arms for good. Stefani and Katheryn Hudson put it all to rest after the turmoil of the last few years and posed together for several pictures while chatting. Granted, they have been photographed together once or twice following the Applause vs. Roar era, but it all feels so much different now! At the risk of being earnest, Gaga is an Oscar winner who has finally surpassed the need to prove herself that plagued her career for a decade and Katy is a new mother who managed to get justice for the #1 Hit that never was, “Harleys in Hawaii” by sitting on her ass and doing zero promo while enjoying her husband’s fat ass and uncut dick. And though we (or maybe just I) long for the days of yore when everything seemed so much easier, it’s nice to see the girls reuniting for a genuine moment together, similarly to when Madonna was photographed with Gaga after she won her Oscar in 2019. Finally, enemy lines have dissolved.
But all of that is really just to say that it could be different tomorrow. This woman’s behavior is impossible to predict, as evidenced by her performance that night. Erratic! You never know what she’s going to do when she enters jazz mode. She’s like The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on speed.
(Rating: Top Shelf)
Lee_Pace_GayWalk.mp4
Yes, baby!!!!!!!! Swing those little gay hips!!!!! Jut them out!
Never knew how much I needed to see Lee Pace walking through Sand Dunes like he’s showing up to the 3 Dollar Bill backyard flanked by two queens in ripped jean shorts who’re wearing bandanas around their necks like ascots and shooting death glares to anyone who looks at their leader. Finally, representation.
(Rating: Top Shelf)
One of the coldest cold cases…heats up
The Black Dahlia. The Lost Colony of Roanoke. The Lohan/Carvel Ice Cream Controversy. Until last week, these were some of America’s most confounding and engrossing unsolved mysteries. But that was last week!
If you’re unfamiliar, Carvel Ice Cream issued 75 black cards to celebrities—one of them being Lindsay Lohan—as part of their 75th-anniversary celebration back in 2009. The Carvel black card allowed cardholders to be entitled to free ice cream for the next 75 years (with standard brand stipulations). A year later, Dina Lohan and the extended Lohan family were reprimanded for attempting to use the card repeatedly without Lindsay present, which was against the company’s policy and the guidelines listed directly on the card. After several warnings and “numerous large ice cream orders” the company confiscated the card. Naturally, Dina Lohan called the police, who told her that there was simply nothing they could do. The events of this monumental and historic day on American soil inspired Season 5, Episode 5 of 30 Rock where Jenna Maroney tries to scam Carvel.
Now, completely out of nowhere, failed songstress Aliana Lohan has decided to set the record straight.
Of course, it’s classic Lohan lies. Follow-up stories included a photo of Ali’s black card, which was issued at the same time as her sister’s. However, when news of the sweet scuffle broke over a decade ago, articles mentioned that only Lindsay’s card was revoked at the point of purchase but that the entire Lohan family was banned from any freebies.
Why they decided now was the time to say something about this story, we may never truly know. Desperation? Cravings? Who can be sure? But I do know that I’d love for a late-period Lohan family revival where Dina and Ali research highly publicized mysteries and then tweet their theories on what really happened. Would love to hear their thoughts on the Zodiac Killer. I think they could crack this case wide open…David Fincher, baby, I smell a sequel.
(Rating: Low Brow)
Finally, some sage words from one of our foremost thought leaders
That’s all for this week! I love you for being here. We didn’t get to cover a few things important things like the Nintendo Movie (No.) and Kathy Hilton’s tabletop couture (Practical menopause fashion.) but I never want the newsletter to get clipped in your inbox. This is all the news that’s fit for print! See you Friday! 💖