Duke Of Web

April Fools, again.

Every time I hear Shadow Of The Day by Stinkin Park, a blatant rip-off of With Or Without You by U2, I want to violently and swiftly rip the ears from my head and shove pencils in the bloody holes. After years of abusing alternative rock radio with their whiny brand of formulaic pseudo-rap-metal, they decided to venture into new melodic territory with Shadow Of The Day. Unfortunately for them, U2 preceded them by 20 years and already wrote the song. Except they did it much better, and Bono didn’t look like Kevin Cronin got in a fight with a bottle of peroxide.

They single-handedly started a movement. A bowel movement. Spreading like a fart in a hurricane, their spawns can be found loitering in front of convenience stores across the country, identified by the obligatory Serg Tankian goatee, gas station attendant inspired wardrobe, forearm tattoos, and no discernible job skills. Separately, none of these attributes are inherently bad, but combine them together and you have the prototypical 21st-century douche. And it’s not just the clothes or the braided goatee. Ay, lest we forget the horrible music! The Stinkin Park formula is about as predictable as Kirk Douglas crapping his diaper.

1. Guitar riff of doom.
2. Windbag, screechy, crybaby chorus.
3. Mexican dude rapping badly, randomly interjected throughout song.
4. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Musicians have been ripping each other off for years. There are only so many ways one can arrange the same 12 notes, so some plagiarism is unavoidable. But these guys take the cake. Then copy it, make another cake, and sell it as their own. Tools.

U2, The Original Pimps:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEfSnjL0pd8

Linkin Park Ripoff:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_eEE12R8Gw

Demi Moore reportedly keeps her grandmotherly skin looking youthful and vibrant by subscribing to leech therapy, a process in which blood-sucking leeches are placed on her skin to suck the toxins out of her blood. After a tireless search for evidence, it’s confirmed! This amazing photo reveals Demi Moore receiving leech therapy.

The leech is seen here sucking, just like he did in The Guardian. The head apparatus would suggest he tore himself away from sucking long enough to watch a Rock Of Love marathon starring Brett Michaels. The host appears a bit delirious and disoriented due to the loss of blood, but her skin looks wonderful.

After his recent DUI arrest, Bon Jovi guitarist Richie Sambora has more in common with Mickey Rourke than just a pasty, lumpy sourpuss mug riddled with ugly as the result of plastic surgery. Rourke was busted in 2007 in Miami for driving under the influence, while navigating a Vespa. His charges should have included being a grown man riding around on a gay European scooter. At least Sambora was popped in a Hummer.

Sambora continues his spree of bad judgment which kicked off a few years ago when Bon Jovi ripped off their own song. By releasing It’s My Life, they assaulted a whole new generation with what is essentially a rehashed, reworked version of Living On A Prayer, a 20-year-old staple of butt rockery. The rash of stupidity continued with dumping piece of ass Denise Richards, although in fairness she was harboring the evil spawn of bird-faced Charlie Sheen. It now concludes with driving around loaded with his 10-year-old daughter Ava, a move that will surely earn him a well-deserved ass-kicking from Ava’s mother, Heather Locklear. The only way things can get worse for Richie is if he gets caught in a New Jersey public restroom snorting blow off Andy Dick’s crank.

If only that were true. If only he could succeed where Lance Bass failed, joining the Russians to be thrust into the exosphere where an unfortunate mishap would result in instant atomization. But the perma-grinned socialite with the luxurious wavy golden mane remains earthbound, blessing us with his existence. Everything about this tool is annoying, from his unnatural orange glow to his pompous first name. Unless he finds the cure for cancer or starts working in a soup kitchen for the homeless, he’s just using up valuable oxygen, prancing around Hollywood seeking out photo ops with his surgically altered and equally useless girlfriend, Heidi Montag. Actually, that’s not fair. Heidi does have one redeeming quality; frequent parading of her 22-year-old bikini-clad ass amidst paparazzi armed with an arsenal of cameras. We’re still waiting for the dirty photos to surface, like those of compatriot Audrina Partidge. Or at the very least, a Britney Spears-style upskirt as she exits a taxi.

Smug sourpuss Victoria Beckham is the new face behind the latest Marc Jacobs campaign. Here she is in a recent ad, struggling to hold up a $2000 hand bag with her scrawny, orange-tinted, malnourished arms. A formidable piece of tail back in the original Spice Girl days, she’s now just one bone through the nose away from joining a Polynesian tribe. Besides sporting an always-present facial expression that looks like she just ate a spoon full of dog shit, she’s exhibiting other bizarre behavior like running around with scientology robots Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. Meanwhile, perpetually injured soccer star husband David Beckham continues to build his empire by making uncomfortable guest appearances on Snoop Dog’s Fatherhood and pimping his new cologne line. If a fiery meteor should crash into the earth, please let it land on their twenty-two-million-dollar Italian Villa overlooking Beverly Hills, before rolling down into the valley to engulf the home of David Hasselhoff in cosmic radiation.