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First, sushi and Chinese herbs tried to poison Jeremy Piven, forcing the Entourage actor to drop out of David Mamet’s Speed-the-Plow last December.
Oh, Asian Foods. Why do you hate the Pivert so?
Since Yoko Ono was honored with a National Arts award last night for “Outstanding Contributions to the Arts,” I’m only going to say nice things about her (instead of focusing on, say, her goofy, netted top hat, a fashion trend inexplicably on the rise).
So here goes. YOKO ONO HAS A REALLY NICE RACK. If you just vomited your Cheerios, bear in mind as you mop up your computer and Listerine your mouth that those boobs are 75 years old. A little perspective: they were born the year Hitler became, well, Hitler. They came into the world during the Great Depression (perhaps now we should call it “The First Great Depression”), and they pre-date television, as in those are radio play-era tits, okay? They’re even older than John McCain, whose man-boobs I hope to never see. Sure, the left one appears to be pushing in on the right one a bit, trying to get a little more attention (the Yoko to the right one’s John), but other than that, they’re impressively smooth, unveiny, and aloft. I’m charmed, too, by the fact that a septuagenarian such as Yoko has the chutzpah to flaunt her knockers. There’s something very dirty old lady about that, like her boobs aren’t at all ready for the nursing home and, instead, they’re ready to party like it’s 1949.