Wait a tick. The only reason to see Woody Allen's new gauzy romance Vicky Cristina Barcelona is the sexy-pex threesomes between coffee-voiced Javier Bardem and the lovely and supple grand dames of acting coy Penelope Cruz and Scarlett Johansson, right? Well then don't plan on seeing the damn thing because there are no ménage à trois in the film. Or it's like "implied" or something. Which is total bullshit! We were lied to (sort of) and we won't stand for it!
While we never expected Celebrity Circus to be a magical panacea that would cure us from the premature onset of the summer television doldrums, it's fair to say that we here at Defamer HQ were all more than a little bit pumped to watch last night's premiere. After all, as proud Gen Xers, we have fond, kitsch-filled memories of watching Lynda Carter dodge knives and William "The Greatest American Hero" Katt rock the shit out of the Giant Wheel Of Death. So when perfect '80s-storm plundering Ben Silverman announced plans earlier this year that NBC would be airing the show, we marked and calendars and began dusting off our bean bags and hot air popcorn poppers in preparation for what we thought was going to be an awesome night of television. But much to our dismay, our dreams were shattered when we found out that Celebrity Circus wasn't a one-time event where everyone comes together to celebrate the spirit of, well, circusness. Rather, we were hoodwinked into watching yet another entry in the tiresome reality "competition" genre, filled with yet another panel of judges with distracting accents and/or speech impediments. What a drag.
We're still holding out for the American Idol scandal motherload, but so far, we've had to settle for underwhelming pseudo-dirt regarding the wig-wearing, gay-stripping skeletons hiding inside some of the male contestants' closets. Even that Idol scandal mainstay—the racy photo—is a little bit of a letdown this season. Where last year brought us Antonella Barba peeing, this year, we get this rather humdrum shot of Ramiele Malubay grabbing a handful of sushi-slinging co-worker boob. Wake us up when it's revealed that puppy-eyed front runner David Archuleta is actually a 52-year-old woman with a song in her heart and a growth-deficiency in her DNA.
No sooner had we reserved some room in our increasingly spacious DVR boxes (now occupied by season passes for Meerkat Manor, C-Span 3's America's Most Smartest Lobbiest, and not much else) for Rosie O'Donnell's upcoming MSNBC talk show, it turns out network executives have pulled out of the project after O'Donnell blabbed about the deal on her blog and at a Miami book signing. A new poem at Rosie.com explains what happened: