Gag me with a spoon, please.

So Elton John throws a hissy fit, ripping through 15 FU’s in one minute on stage, all directed at his music label. His agent, Gary Farrow, said ain’t no problem with promotion: “I think you'll find it was tongue-in-cheek about the record company. You have to look for the humor.”

Let’s see: “I'm going to play a song but I'm sure you haven't heard it because the f***ers haven't promoted it!” “My record label isn't doing anything to help. F**k Universal... They're useless. Here's a message to Universal Records - please drop me. Just let me go somewhere else.”

I’m still looking for the humor within. But if you insist, Gary, I am sure it is there. You must hate your job, eh?

More Elton news? Sure! Seems he’s going to be spending more time with his in-laws … oh god, I just can’t. Sorry. Let’s try another. Um, he thinks organized religion should go away and wishes John Lennon were alive because he would be doing something! [Foot stamping, standing akimbo, mouth in a pout.] No more. Please.

How about another deeply disturbed person? OK! File this under, “too good to be true.” Michael Jackson is living in fear of his life after being stalked by a transvestite. A-hahahahahahahahaha hahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The lude dude’s name is “Michelle,” and he has asked Mikey to marry him! Wow. Just fricking wow. Hey, Mike, this pud’s for you!

More? Yes, Yes, YES!!! OK, then! Some idiot named Liam Gallagher, a lounge singer of some sort for Oasis, used to want to get drunk quicker, so he mainlined lager! Quicker? How the hell long does it take to drink a few beers? Relax, pal. Chug ‘em if you insist. But mainline? Dude, you got a problem – and it ain’t a desire to get drunk quicker.

Here’s some honesty: Ashley Judd says being a sex symbol makes her sick. It’s OK, sweetheart, all the really dirty men are gay and only want to dress up with you. The bothersome heteros are mainly harmless panty sniffers. So you’re helping some boys through puberty. That’s not a bad thing. Relax, darling. You’re cute, but at 5’7” and 125 (I know, 128 on a bad day) pounds, you’d think your ass would be more, I dunno, more there. You know what I mean? Did you know your birthday is the day before Hitler’s? Do you sometimes wear colored contacts to obscure your green eyes? Do you see your dad, Michael Ciminella, much? I never see you use your middle name Tyler. Don’t you like it? Do you stay in contact with anyone from UK? Go Wildcats, eh?

Speaking of all things sex, never EVER make a sex tape. Britney, girl, you should know better. Four hours? Do they make film that long, or did you stop to reload? Babycakes, do not negotiate with terrorists – tell the scum to sell it and get what he can. Give him nothing and use his attempted blackmail in the custody battle. You will easily win. Easily. Four hours? Was, like, there any, um, nevermind. I don’t want to know. Forget I asked.

I just can’t focus on this garbage anymore. Want more celeb gossip? Here’s the mother lode, enjoy.