The Awful Truth

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Of course, it took till yesterday to see that Coldplay genius (sorry, my opinion, sue me if you don't like it) Chris Martin actually does have some sort of fight in him after all.

That is, regarding his marriage to über-bore Gwyneth Paltrow, with whom he has two oddly named children. But what's really weird in this whole scenario is how utterly disconnected to the two have become: While Martin's continued to make relevant, arguably cutting-edge music, his wife has discarded her Hollywood career (and Oscar, it would seem) in favor of becoming BFFs with with Madonna and cutting open chickens on her lame-ass website, Goop.

I mean, who wouldn't go kiss another woman at a concert, as Star has reported Martin as having done, if that was who you were married to? Martin, apparently, as he's now suing the tabloid, saying the whole thing's made up.

Guess, I just think it's a little weird, seeing such a finally decisive reaction from Martin, when folks have been buzzing for well over a year this marriage smells worse than Gywnnie's latest films. I mean, come on, Chris, just a li'l ole "everything's cool" ages ago would have been more assuring. You sure are protesting a lot. Nobody said you were fornicating, after all.

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I'm not supposed to tell you this, but when have I ever been good at that? There's a British TV series on pop culture I've been participating in (more details when it comes closer to launch), and they're doing some interviews with Michael Lohan, can you ever guess why?

"He wants to help his daughter," chirped one of the producers on the insanely funny and cheeky program. "He wants to spread the word how much he wants to help her."

"Oh, yeah," I said, "by telling you all and the rest of the world all about it is a great way to do it," tongue in cheek firmer than mom Dina's hatred for Michael. "Great plan."

What is it with these Lohan's talking about their troubles to everybody else but each other? I mean, just take a look at Lindsay Lohan's Tweets about how much she, too, despises her father, to get a chilly picture.

Are the Lohans the new Gosselins? Or are the Gosselins the old Lohans? Either way, it all sucks, and the ones who are getting screwed here are the kids. Just look at Lindsay, if you don't believe me.

Why aren't the family courts looking into media abuse is what I want to know.

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No clue if there are actually any Alex Rodriguez fans out there—although we know some of you are avid Yankees lovers. But our favorite part of the World Series has been watching Stray-Rod get pelted by the Phillies three times in two games! But last night the Yankees played hard and purposefully hit 'em back ball.

And for the record, I was never really into this stuff before until Taryn Ryder clued me in to all the A-Rod ramming—too fun!

In fact, we're not pretending to be totally up on baseball knowledge here at the AT, but even we know getting hit by three pitches in like, a game and a half is some pretty damning odds. But we don't feel for A.R. at all.

That is his penalty for being a douche. Tough.

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Many of you are pissed about my Morning Piss yesterday, and rightly so. When I reread it, I realized my ranting about Nicole Kidman's Congressional address on violence against women could be read as to have slighted the concern for these horrible crimes (ones Kidman herself had taken the pains to visit around the world) and that was certainly not my intent.

I apologize most sincerely to those I offended.

Empowering women is something I'm often bitching about myself. I absolutely endorse—and certainly encourage—any celebrity, Kidman included, and any man or woman brave enough to take on the atrocities being committed around the world. By all means. Shout to everyone about it. Scream, if you must.

Kidman just needs to explain what her participation was in the violence that was committed against the pap who was trailing her, is my point. Her vigil against these more heinous crimes would be so much stronger, in my opinion, if she did. Violence begets violence.

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You've heard about Nicole Kidman, the United Nations's fancy-ass Women's Goodwill Ambassador, testifying to congress about violence against women, right?

Uh, yeah, great point, Nic.

But who's gonna testify to congress on behalf of photographers and journalists who get beaten to a bloody pulp by celebrities' goon-guards? Not into that bit of charitable mouthing off, are ya? Obviously not, since you've never, ever spoken about how badly your bodyguard messed up that pap—despite butt-loads of requests from us to explain it.

This is Hollywood at its best: Scream out to the world, with perfect curls cascading down around your perfectly powdered forehead, about the atrocities of the world while you're participating in one that approaches the same level of inhumanity. Oh, but that's right—we journos don't count, do we? We're scum. We deserve what we get because we sought to make more famous a person who chose to become a public figure?

I love the way you think. Oh, and that's irony, darling Nic—you know, like saying The Stepford Wives was your best work.

________

Nicole isn't the only one on a goodwill kick. See who else is in our Do-Gooder gallery.

AP Photo/Matt Rourke

Horror upon horrors, we found a reality-show star worse than Jon Gosselin: Michael Vick.

Not only does the despicable Vick (and we mean despicable to the very core, and not just for douchey Letterman-type behavior) get reinstated into the NFL, he gets his own reality show following his return to the spotlight. 

So Mike's slapping himself on TV so people will "get to know [him] as an individual" and "change the perception" people have of him? We already know too much about how M.V. treats defenseless creatures, and the crybaby has nobody to blame but himself for his poor standing with the public.

We'd seriously rather watch Papa Gosselin and Daddy Lohan bitch about their ex-wives and bratty kids over lattes for a half hour in the too-terrible-not-to-be-televised Divorced Dads Club than watch one second of this show.

Charlie Casablanca herself barked to me: She insists that the only reality TV we'll be viewing in the Casablanca household involving Vick will be when he's pitted against other creeps like Gosselin in a people fight—and then she'd like to ask Vick how he likes being tortured to death.

Does BET really think anybody'll tune in? Even the curiosity factor of wondering just how Vick plans on digging himself out of the hole he's in isn't enough of a draw.

Why doesn't BET next air a reality docu-series about Chris Brown trying to win his fans back? We're just as likely to completely ignore that gimmick, too.

CBS

Is there some sort of Let's Defend Douchebags moment going on in H'wood? First, a bunch of otherwise-respected filmmakers and actors disgustingly go on the line to support Roman Polanski's freedom. Now it seems as though David Letterman's getting a hand-slap of a free pass for cheating on his wife with Late Show workers.

Oh, but poor David!

He was trying to be extorted for millions! And he was honest about the whole thing and apologized, on national TV no less, so that should make it A-OK, right?

Please! Letterman's nonapology for turning his female staffers into sex objects isn't good enough for all the women he's inappropriately gotten involved with over the years, and it shouldn't be for his partner of 23 years. The man's an incredibly powerful TV personality and producer, and prowling on your employees is an awfully dickish thing to do as a boss, even if it's consensual.

Hey, Kirstie Alley, we know ya love to bitch as much as we do when you see wrongdoing—you should be campaigning for the rights of women workers! They certainly need someone to support them when their own employer doesn't seem to give a crap about them. Game?

AP Photo/Abdeljalil Bounhar

While the Gosselins are predictably continuing their domination of pissing everybody off within five miles of their attention-grabbing antics, I could not be more disgusted at some actual celebrities. Powerhouse directors Martin Scorcese, Woody Allen, Darren Aronofsky and Terry Gilliam, along with dozens other well-known Industry types in T-town, are coming out to defend jail-dodger Roman Polanski by signing a petition against his arrest.

What the hell is there to defend?

Polanski admittedly raped a 13-year old girl back in 1978 and ran for the hills to escape punishment—admittedly, after it looked like L.A.'s legal system was most unfairly set against him.

But, uh, would a bunch of plumbers come out to defend a fellow plumber who did the same horrific thing? Nope. Then how is working in Hollywood any different? Most of the directors signing this ridiculous petition have kids themselves, which they should consider more thoroughly than the guilty man who made some better than excellent movies.

Just because you're undeniably talented (and on your way to accepting a Lifetime Achievement Award), that doesn't give you a free pass to get away with murder...or rape, regardless of the original circumstances.

The point is the whole desultory affair needs to be resolved, legally speaking, at the very least.

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While our hearts are still breaking over poor Jessica Simpson's coyote-swiped Daisy, we've got even more pooches to pray for. Jon Gosselin is blaming Kate (who else?) for having to get rid of his dogs.

The d-bag's sending the family's two German shepherds, Shoka and Nala, back to the breeder because he claims his soon-to-be ex-wifey doesn't want them around in their Pennsylvania home when Jon isn't around. He tells E! News, "It's not fair to the dogs to not be wanted in their own home."

Is he talking about the German shepherds, or himself?

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I need to get this over with: It's been a difficult summer, as my partner, Jon Powell, and I have been separated for much of it. We have recently agreed to end our union, which was just more than a year old.

This is not what I wanted. But I accept it. These are painful, horribly strange words for me to write, but I need to move on, and this is the best way for me to do it. It's now out there, something I dreaded stating.

When I mentioned months ago that I'd started smoking again...

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Let's see, how can I put this without sending E!'s legal team into uncontrolable fits of Burberry-skirted fury? Hmmm...In light of the ongoing investigation into Michael Jackson's death (honestly, he's had more press in the last month than he'd had in the last 10 years), I think it's time to switch burners and start cooking up somebody other than Dr. Conrad Murray. In other words, let's put Jackson's longtime (ego) pusher, Dr. Arnold Klein, in that legal frying pan for a nice, slow burn, shall we?

Given the pathetic state of M.J.'s body after double autopsies, it's hard to tell what's even left of his remains anymore. But I talked to some physicians, and in each of their professional opinions, they told me the brunt of the damage done to Michael's person could not possibly have been caused by Murray alone during the time he spent with the King of Pop (less than three years). Well, we knew that already, right?

So why has Klein, who tended Jackson through at least a few different noses, receiving arguably less legal scrutiny than Murray? And since cops are investigating him, it looks like maybe Murray will be made to legally answer for exactly what he did to Jackson for all those years, chemically speaking. The point is that drug addiction to the extent Michael Jackson suffered is a long-established dynamic. It began way before Murray, so he shouldn't alone be made to pay the price for what he did—or did not do—to Jackson.

Shouldn't Dr. Klein, at the very least, have paid more attention to what his longtime patient was doing with his body, in every sense?

I can't make any accusations because the people I've spoken with who worked in Klein's office won't go on the record. But hopefully, someone will—and soon.

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Choosing to follow someone on Twitter is probably the least difficult way to keep in touch in a crazyass digital age. Unfortunately, it's also one of the most damn annoying ones, too. And this morning, nothing is more annoying than having to read another celebrity's emotional, pseudo-poignant, gimmicky tweets.

Can you guess who we're talking about?

It's pole-humper Miley Cyrus, that's who! Every day we're forced (by the laws of Tweethood, of course) to read about the ups and downs of Miley's dazzlingly uninteresting personal life. And the worst part is, she's actually annoyed at us for reading about it!

One day she's writing an overly emotional tweet like, "Why do I continue to torture myself?" 'Natch, we get concerned. Then it's, "I do not have a new boyfriend in GA! I'd HATE for me to happy and make new friends! Stop accusing me of stuff! Its getting old people!"

Get a grip, MiCy!

Few celebrities are as infuriating with their tweets as I-don't-want-attention-but-check-out-this-stripper-pole-move Miley.

If Miley wasn't allowed near the computer, we wouldn't think she's nearly as ditzy or oozing with adolescence as her Twitter makes her sound.

And fun fact about Princess Cyrus' page: Among the 55 folks she follows are Dolly Parton, David Blaine and They-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (think overly blond coifs, both of 'em). Um, WTF, Miley?! Oh, and when a celeb starts tweeting about tweeting, then you know something's totally wrong.

Shame on you, Ashton—look what you've wrought upon us.