For those of you just returning to the Internet, Deadline broke the news that James Gandolfini died in Italy this morning from a heart attack. The man was only 51:
Overweight, balding, rough around the edges with a thick New Jersey accent, Gandolfini was the opposite of a marquee leading man, destined to be a character actor, and yet he proved through his masterful acting that he could make Tony Soprano sexy and smart, towering and powerful. his portrayal was one of TV’s largest-looming TV anti-heroes — the schlub we loved, the cruel monster we hated, the anxiety-ridden husband and father we wanted to hug in midlife crisis when he bemoaned, “I’m afraid I’m going to lose my family. Like I lost the ducks.” In the most maddening series finale in recent history – an episode chock full of references to mortality (life, death, a William Butler Yeats reference to the apocalypse, a bathroom reference to a “Godfather” bloodbath) — his was the show’s last image, seen just as the words “Don’t stop” were being sung on the jukebox. It generated such extreme reaction that the series’ fans crashed HBO’s website for a time that night trying to register their outrage that it ended with a black screen, leaving them not knowing whether Tony Soprano had been whacked. … In large part to Gandolfini’s charisma (“Jimmy was the spiritual core of our Sopranos family,” Chris Albright noted today), that Season 5 of The Sopranos in 2004 remains the most watched series in HBO history with 14.4 million viewers on average.
I’m not going to try the pretentious route of naming James Gandolfini’s other roles that are less obvious than The Sopranos because let’s recognize exactly what it was: The evolutionary moment when television said, “You know what Hollywood? You go ahead and make reboots and disaster porn and Paul Blart 2: Paul Blart Fart, we’re gonna do something different.” It sounds cliche, but The Sopranos literally redefined television and paved the way for such awesome fucking gems as Breaking Bad, Mad Men, Deadwood and a whole bunch of others I’m forgetting. None of which wouldn’t have happened without James Gandolfini bringing it every Sunday. Not to mention, on a more personal note, I say, “She was a who-ah, Tony,” in Ralphie’s voice at least five times a day.
Thanks, Jim. Rest in Peace.
Welcome to Wednesday’s The Crap We Missed where we show you the pics Fish didn’t have a specific penis joke for. 30 Seconds To A Dude On Dude Threeway On Mars? That’s why I don’t have that job. Anyway, here’s Madonna‘s infant-skin wrangler making a rare public appearance, Prince Charles showing the proper amount of stopping distance needed to fake a limo wreck, Gwyenth Paltrow expanding her stable of black friends, but with the usual safety precautions of heavy sedation and from behind a partition, and finally, Orlando Jones who’s been using Russell Simmons‘ Match.com account.
Busy Philipps is looking about five, maybe six months away from her due date according to the Kim Kardashian pregnancy timeline,
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Photo: Bauer-Griffin, Fame/Flynet, Getty, INFdaily, Pacific Coast News, Splash News, WENN
“A ha! Ahaha! *wipes tears* I’m sorry, sugah, I coulda sworn you said the one behind me was going to read. Could you imagine?”
When we last left Paula Deen, she was being sued after her brother and Uncle Bubba’s Oyster House co-owner allegedly sexually harassed kitchen manager Lisa Jackson whenever he wasn’t busy letting Paula plan him a wedding full of tap dancing niggers. Yup:
According to the court documents, Jackson states that she was appointed by Deen to handle the catering and staff for Bubba’s wedding in 2007, and she asked Deen what the servers should wear: “Well what I would really like is a bunch of little niggers to wear long-sleeve white shirts, black shorts and black bow ties, you know in the Shirley Temple days, they used to tap dance around,” Jackson alleges Deen told her. “Now, that would be a true Southern wedding wouldn’t it? But we can’t do that because the media would be on me about that.”
And while that sounds like something most normal people would recognize they should never, ever admit to saying. Most normal people aren’t an old, rich, white southern woman like Paula Deen whose resistance to change hardens after every year and sugar pone pie stuffed with sugar ham. To her, those words were as genteel and cordially as a game of gin rummy over mint juleps as the Negroes work themselves in the field before being chained to the hogs. My those were such splendid times. Splendid times Paula Deen doesn’t mind recalling in the middle of a legal deposition where I’ll assume her lawyer was too busy fighting off blindness to tackle her after eating a donut from her purse. “I call it a Fudgeton Creme.” Radar reports: More »
Because making a sex tape requires work and might confirm she was born a man, Courtney Stodden needed a new plan quickly before Farrah Abraham squirted her into obscurity. And to her credit, she came up with “Watch me get new tits!” which somehow worked because we’re all looking right at them. It’s practically witchcraft.
Photos: Glen McCurtayne/Coleman-Rayner
Remember when Miley Cyrus was a sweet, little country singer and folks would come into FYE asking if you have them “Hanner Montanner DBDs ’cause it’s such an adorable daddy/daughter show and my granddaughter just loves it?” She’s Rihanna now. Miley Cyrus is Rihanna. Although, on the bright side, your granddaughter can smack her ass now, so let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth. (That’s where her kind hide their gold.)
Right around two weeks ago, Kim Kardashian suddenly didn’t want the paparazzi taking pictures of her anymore despite that being the one thing that defines her that isn’t a sex tape. Except the obvious reason is she was the size of a house and looked exactly like a woman at the natural end of her pregnancy who could fire out a baby at any second. Which isn’t good when you’re trying to sell People magazine a story that your nameless newborn is a fragile preemie who could totally die, you guys:
Admitted June 14 due to complications, Kardashian – whom sources confirm was about 37 weeks pregnant – went into premature labor.
West, meanwhile, who’d returned from promoting his new album Yeezus in Europe just hours before, rushed to her side.
Though she’s been spending time in an incubator to regulate her body temperature, a standard course of treatment for premature babies, Baby K – whose parents have nearly decided on a name – is “doing very well,” says a hospital source.
As a precaution, Kim Kardashian has asked doctors if it’s possible to leave the child in the incubator until she’s 18. Preferably at the hospital, but she could clear out a closet if she has to. God, kids, amirite?
Photos: Splash News