<![CDATA[Gawker: defamer, billy joel]]> http://tags.gawker.com/assets/base/img/thumbs140x140/gawker.com.png <![CDATA[Gawker: defamer, billy joel]]> http://gawker.com/tag/defamer/billyjoel http://gawker.com/tag/defamer/billyjoel <![CDATA[American Idol: Disco? Balls.]]> So Disco Night happened on American Idol. Everyone still with us? Ten toes, ten fingers? All right, good. We made it. That wasn't so bad, was it? I mean, it could have been much worse.

I mean, what is Disco, really? The anthem of annihilation. The dizzying denouement of America's golden age. Look, everyone! Our clothes are getting uglier and so are our cars and our buildings and no one cares about the small stuff anymore, and cities will soon be shopping malls, so let's just boogie our behinds off and shove drugs up our noses. That's kind of what Disco was! Or is! Or I don't know!

This is all to say that Disco music is depressing, even when it's uptempo. There's just something fundamentally tinny and cruel about it. So why do we get a whole Idol theme night devoted to it? Probably because it's cheap. All that said, though, there were some highlights.

The Good
Hey did you loyal readers know that I like Kris Allen? Well, I do. He looks like a cute cartoon character and he has a little twang and he sings pretty and he actually seems surprisingly sharp in his musical tastes. His slowed down "She Works Hard for the Money" was a strange choice, yes, but it played! It really did. My heart did back flips and I clapped like a schoolgirl. Paula basically just fell over and started doing that woob-woob-woob walking around on the floor in a circle thing from the Three Stooges, weeping. Kara tried to use her words, but it just came out "refrigerator disco science." Randy is still mad at Chris for killing his beloved eldest son Ludwig von Koopa in world seven, and Simon just doesn't want to say too many nice things about Kris for some reason. He fought with Paula about underpants instead. But you were the best of the night, Kris. That's coming from me. And I know how much my opinion means to you.

Allison is back! After last week's bumble, her "Hot Stuff" was just that. Hot stuff. It was hot stuff. Like the title of the song. The Girls' Last Hope is still apparently getting dressed while standing in the Max with the lights off, so that's too bad. But singing wise? Well done.

The Bad
I mean... Anoop was kind of a mess. Matt Giraud did "Stayin' Alive" like a drunk groomsman at an Armenian wedding. Danny Gokey sang some stupid song called "September" that sounded like Joan Rivers falling down an elevator shaft. All gravely shrieking and then a dusty clunk at the end. And Lil Rounds... Oh Lil. How did you hoodwink America so? And how is it possible that you were the best black lady in the whole competition? I just don't believe it! I mean your kids are cute and whatnot, but you talk back too much and sometimes I suspect that you think you deserve to pull this thing out and win it. Too bad that you will go home tonight.

If I Can't Have You Out of The Competition
...at least continue to make it interesting, Adam Lambert! I mean, we get it. Sometimes you like to freak dance and chicken scratch, other times you like to cry velvet blue tears. But would it kill you to do just do a damn song the way God intended? I mean with the wailing and the emoting and the skinsuit wearing. It's all a little much. And recently, it's all a little boring. A regular, meat 'n' potatoes Lambert performance would be shocking and exciting at this point. Like what if he just sat down and sang a Billy Joel song. Wouldn't that be weird? And kind of funny? I want it to happen. Do it, Adam.

You Stink
The Life of Lilian Rounds: Over. As is Matt Giraud's. Or! Perhaps! Was Danny Gokey shitacular enough to earn a seat on the early bus? Good lord wouldn't that be fabulous? If Danny Gokey went home. No more Danny Gokey. Simon could no longer make passes at squirming fish who wear glasses.

This is a weird recap. My brain is about to fall out of my face because alcohol has ruined my life. But still we soldier on. After tonight we're down to just five. Five! From all those thousands. Imagine that.

Doesn't it make you want to sing a song, Adam? About time passing? About your friends Brenda and Eddie? Who were still going steady? In the summer...? Of '75? No? Are you sure?

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<![CDATA[Even The Lure Of Christie Brinkley In The Next Room Won't Prevent This Man From Jerking Off To Internet Porn]]> When fighting a highly publicized custody battle with the modeling industry's reigning Good Girl Next Door, it's probably not the smartest move to give Al Goldstein and Larry Flynt a run for their money as dirtiest old man. But that's just what pervy adulterer Peter Cook did yesterday while testifying against original Uptown Girl Christie Brinkley. Providing us with a handy preview of Rob Lowe's inevitable court date fighting for his straight-laced honor, the hottie architect let loose a series of confessions involving adorably vintage tales of web cam masturbation, office sex, and hush money hidden behind paintings. Read on for the sordid admissions that caused Cook to reach for a hankie and cry jurors a river.

As TMZ reports, Cook "broke down crying after getting grilled on the stand...[and] admitted he masturbated in front of a web cam and frequented escort, porn and swinger sites, all while married to Brinkley." Cook also unleashed a salty waterfall of tears while 'fessing up to a $300k extortion scam gone awry, in which he gradually donated large sums of money to his then-18-year old mistress' Get Rich By Boinking Celebrities fundraiser by stashing cash under rocks and other office decor. But the most grim allegation came from Brinkley's lawyer, who claims her prepubescent son Jack (from an earlier marriage) stumbled across nudie pics of "young girls" on Cook's computer. Which must have surely aided the kid's expected progression towards following Billy Joel on the path towards future wives young enough to be his daughter.

[Photo credit: Wireimage]

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