Love and tortilla warmers

Joshua Duggar, the oldest of the 17 (soon to be 18) Duggar kids and one of the stars of the avalanche of Duggar-themed shows on the Discovery Health channel, got married last weekend. That's them in the picture, almost touching.

And so it begins.

If you'd like to see more pictures of them looking wholesome and participating in wholesome activities (but none that require Wholesome Swimwear, thank god), take a gander at their website.

Josh and Anna are both 20 years old and met at a homeschooling conference, a.k.a. the singles mixer for kids who get to leave home once a year to go on vacation to a homeschooling conference. They both really, really, really love Jesus. And they also love wearing matching brown, striped polos. And they want to have as many children "as God gives us" (prediction: the first kid is born nine months to the day of the wedding).

I want to know more, but the site is incomplete. I was especially looking forward to the "Marriage Tools" section, but unfortunately, that too is "COMING SOON!!!!" But they did take the time to inform readers how to find their true purpose in life. I bet you can't guess what that is. By the way, if you think you can get into heaven by being a good person, the correct answer is NO. You have to give Jesus "the right to be the boss in [your] life" first.

I was trying to think of something funny to say about who the boss in my life is, but then I noticed that Josh and Anna conveniently included that they're registered at Wal-Mart and Bed Bath & Beyond. Of course, I just popped right over there to see what these two crazy kids asked for and found some very shocking items on their list:
• Springmaid 400-thread count Egyptian cotton sheets!
• A $130 digital picture frame!
• Pringles, Sprite, M&Ms, Swedish fish and several types of beef jerky!
• An iPod touch!
• A $350 Uniflame gas grill!
• A $500 Dyson vacuum!
• Another $300 Dyson vacuum!
• TWO Kitchenaid mixers!
• A tortilla warmer!
• and a gazillion other things that any normal college student would already have by now!

I'm flabbergasted. This is by far the greediest gift registry list I have ever seen. And last I checked, GREED was one of the seven deadly sins! I mean, who needs a fucking tortilla warmer?? And who puts junk food snacks on their wedding gift registry?? And who tries to sneak an iPod touch in there?? Greedy, greedy, greedy.

Not only that, but the pastor and the church prepared the food for the wedding, according to their site. "Hey, happy church community, to save money on food, we'll take you up on your offer to prepare the 80 pounds of shredded chicken, 100 pounds of potato salad, 100 pounds of macaroni salad, eight hand-carved watermelon baskets with sliced fruit inside (don't forget, Josh likes seedless grapes!), 40 pies of different flavors and loads more country goodness for the 10,000 guests at our wedding (9,000 of whom are Duggars). And don't forget to bring us gifts! We really, really need two Dyson vacuums! Praise Jesus!"

The Duggars need to be exposed. They have no problem whoring themselves out for TV and probably accepting money for the appearances. I mean, did you see their fucking house? The one they built themselves, "by hand." They flaunted the fact that they used the slave labor of their own underaged kids to build that monstrosity!

I'm shooting off an angry e-mail to Discovery Health right now to alert them to this ungody gift registry. We'll see if the Josh and Anna get that Duggar wedding special that I'm sure they're banking on!

How do I feel right at this very moment?

Exactly like supertramp Kate Moss and anorexorcist Allegra Versace Beck in this picture. I've been without internet and cable TV for over a week. That's seven Rockit years. I am completely out of touch and drooling at this point. My power was out for three days. I felt like Abe Lincoln. By that I mean I started reading by candlelight and wearing a top hat at all times. And I think I started growing a beard but it retracted when the power came on.

Anyhoo, things seem to be back to (ab)normal and I'm now once again able to obsess constantly about Blohan and Samro, Project Runway and the Caylee case. That family is a bunch of kooks, aren't they? Major weirdos! But would they make fun of Allegra Versace's eating disorder like I did? Who knows? And who could blame her for having one? I mean, the girl had a feeding tube up her nose for christ sakes and you could pretty much see why. First, she grew up in the always-supportive and accepting world of fashion. Her mom is a vacuumhead who looks like Janice the Muppet during the world's longest Electric Mayhem tour. She's named after an American allergy medication. Where are the "Free Allegra" t-shirts? The girl's only 22 years old and she's palling around with Kate Moss, ex-galpal of Pete Doherty, a.k.a. King Crackus the Seventeenth. She's also worth half a billion fucking dollars (Donatella was left 20% of Gianni's estate; niece Allegra was left 50%).

Allegra, you need better friends. Hang out with ME. I might not have power or internet or cable, but we can have mozarella sticks and cookie dough Blizzards for dinner. We can totally watch Gossip Girl. It'll be FUN!

Criminy, I'm rambling and completely delusional from lack of media stimulation. Please forgive me. I'll be back shortly with my regularly scheduled commentary. But right now I need some tranqs...

I sense conspiracy

Every year I insist on watching the VMAs even though I know it's going to be a geyser of shit.

I do it because I still believe I'm going to miss something big, like somebody falling, a drunken meltdown, or a drug-induced performance fuck-up. Like last year, for example. Remember, if you will, the dazzling spectacle of Britney with her budget weave, lurching around the stage dazed and confused and having either forgotten the lyrics to her own song or forgotten how to lip-sync, her paunchy belly jiggling with each faltering misstep. Now that was some quality television! There's nothing I love more than seeing people humiliating themselves on live national television—unless that person is Britney. Then that is officially the best.

This year, hype indicated that Britty would be attempting her comback *again*, so I was hoping for another glazed, bot-like performance disaster. I waited with baited anticipation for more fabulous Britney embarrassment.

Instead what do we get? We get canned pre-show banter between Brit and Jonah Hill in which Britney is treated as if she is hot again. Come on, people! Have we forgotten already? The weave may have been upgraded just a notch and she got new caps and she may be slightly less bloated than last year, but we all know what's underneath that spackled-on Bobbi Brown Creamy Concealer. We all know the truth!

Next we have the highly-anticipated show opener. But this time, there was no disaster. Instead, Brit simply shuffled out on stage, woodenly repeated some lines off the teleprompter, then turned it over to Rihanna, who launched into a Grace Jones-lite impersonation. Letdown #2!

Then to make matters even worse, the braindead MTV "voters" awarded Britney with three trophies, including Video of the Year for "Piece of Me." OK, letting her have a second chance to embarrass herself less on TV is one thing, but giving her pity trophies is something else all together! Conspiracy! Did you even see that video? It's the shittiest, most phoned-in piece of film of all time. Keep in mind that past winners of Video of the Year include such innovative classics as "Money for Nothing," "Sledgehammer," "Nothing Compares 2 U," "Virtual Insanity" and "Hey Ya." Not to say that other winners of this so-called top award are all sick, as the kids these days say, or even memorable, but "Piece of Me"? Jesus christ...pity awards! Next year, Britney will probably be on trial for chloroforming her kids and they'll give her Video Vanguard.

Ug, my temples are throbbing. It's time to move on from this topic, and discuss the other ongoing theme of the evening that got me in a twist: purity rings.

Yay, hurray for the Jonas Brothers and Jordin Sparks and Hannah Montana for wearing their NoMoHo chastity belt buckles and keeping their no-no holes in their pants until god or Pat Robertson says it's OK. They all probably had a prayer circle backstage and congratulated themselves for winning the lost through pure, innocent song. Kind of makes you want to put in their CDs and fuck someone seven ways to Sunday just for spite. But that's impossible—those songs are real mood-killers.

I especially liked when Jordin stood up for the Purity Police by saying, "It's not bad to wear a promise ring because not everybody—guy or girl—wants to be a slut." What am I, in 5th-grade health class and the school nurse is reminding everyone that it's very important to care about your reputation? Jordin was going to encourage everyone to maintain good posture by walking around the Paramount backlot with a books on their heads, but the orchestra cut her off. Then the Jonas Brothers were supposed to come out and tell us that we're going to get hair in new places on our bodies and Hannah Montana was going to give a lecture on different types of maxi pads. Don't wear a tampons! You won't be a virgin anymore!

I don't know who Russell Brand is, but he's the best for calling that shit out.