History was made Sunday night, and, no, it wasn’t from Leah Remini’s record-setting 800-meter clapback dash to the nearest exit when Scientologist Elisabeth Moss took home the Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama Series Emmy!
Julia Louis-Dreyfus walked away with her sixth Outstanding Lead Actress in a Comedy Series award for playing Selina Meyer on Veep. Vanity Fair notes the previous record holder was Candice Bergen with her string of five for playing the title character on Murphy Brown. Candy B. must have Helen Hunt’s lip imprint firmly on her hiney cheeks out of gratitude, as she eventually took herself out of the Emmy running, which then enabled a string of Helen wins. Julia’s total take is now eight Primetime Emmys if you include her time on Seinfeld and The New Adventures Of Old Christine, and she doesn’t show any sign of stopping there with one more Veep season coming up. That ties her with Cloris Leachman, who should get an honorary Primetime Emmy for even agreeing to show her face on Dancing With The Stars. Nobody should topple the throne of Mary Tyler Moore’s landlady!!!
Julia beat out Pamela Adlon, Allison Janney, Ellie Kemper, Tracee Ellis Ross, Lily Tomlin, and Jane Fonda’sshow pony hair to nab her latest award. She at least recognized what a crowd of tough broads she was competing against this year, saying the group was packed with “fine and powerful funny ladies in our category . . . you are superb and I adore you.” Julia also realized how fucked it is that our actual White House seems like the boiling pot of shit stew that spews each week from the political environment on her show. She admitted:
“We did have a whole story line about an impeachment, but we were worried that someone else might get to it first.”
Trump has been eerily silent on Twitter about his thoughts on last night’s show, and you might say it’s because he’s busy speaking at the United Nations today. Wrong! I’m sure it’s trying to find some sick burn about how Old Christine could have been Current Hot Christine if she had just got a boob job.
Here’s more of Julia from last night, including her posing with Veep co-star Anna Chlumsky.
Netflix’s hit The Crown may have missed out on the Emmy for outstanding drama to The Handmaid’s Tale, but the cast was still full of smiles at the show on Sunday night. And despite that loss, the show didn’t miss out on all awards after taking home statues for production design and costumes, as well as John Lithgow once again winning for outstanding supporting actor. See more from their exciting night ahead!
Since Prince Hot Ginge wants nothing to do with the crown, I should remove it from my homomade (on purpose typo) PHG Real Doll during our “dates.” You know, to make the experience oh-so-realistic.
PHG did a long interview with Newsweek and he mostly talked about his charity stuff, but he also talked about how losing his mom at a young age really fucked with him, and he gave his thoughts about the future of the monarchy. He didn’t talk about Meghan Markle, but a “source” did and said that things are still new between them and if they get engaged, it won’t happen before the end of the year.
PHG says that his mom wanted him and his brother to live as normal of a life as possible, so he does his own grocery shopping and buys his own meat (wink win), but he also knows that he’s a prince and believes that his country and beyond still needs the magic of the monarchy.
PHG says that during his mom’s funeral on September 6, 1997, he had to walk behind her coffin in front of a crowd of thousands and as millions watched at home. That moment left deep scars on his soul and it had a lot to do with why he spent some of his twenties boozing it up and acting a wreck. PHG’s main goal is no longer trying to snort more streams of vodka than his douche bros. His main focus is now charity work and bringing the monarchy into the 21st century. PHG isn’t about to talk his way out a job, so he says that Britain needs the monarchy. They’re not wearing glimmering jewels and living in palaces for themselves. They’re doing it for the people. Yes, you should cry for them, because none of them really want to sit on the throne.
“The monarchy is a force for good, and we want to carry on the positive atmosphere that the queen has achieved for over 60 years, but we won’t be trying to fill her boots. We are involved in modernizing the British monarchy. We are not doing this for ourselves but for the greater good of the people…. Is there any one of the royal family who wants to be king or queen? I don’t think so, but we will carry out our duties at the right time.”
Oh, PHG, let me ease your pain of being famous and privileged. Give away your fortune, abdicate your place in line for the crown and run off to rural New Zealand with me where we’ll raise goats far away from Buckingham Palace. I won’t ever call you “king.” “Ginger daddy,” yes, but “king,” no.
But seriously, PHG needs to speak for himself! We all know that there’s one British royal who is a regular Simba and just can’t wait to be king. Do I even need to say who that is?
So THE QUEEN,Prince Charles and Prince William need to step down and let the TRUE King of England happily rule with an animal crackers crumbs-covered fist!
And here’s THE QUEEN at Royal Ascot today. It was Ladies Day, so I also threw in pictures of ladies showing off the hats that will definitely end up in the gutter after they get ten kinds of plastered.
Did you totally blank on Father’s Day and forget to send something to your dad for like the 5th year in a row? You still have time to enter your dad in the Father’s Day Crown Royal velvet painting contest. See above for the details on how you can win a velvet painting that your dad will cherish more than you.
Below we have John BC. I took home a bottle of Crown Royal Wine Barrel Finished this weekend as his Father’s Day gift and you would’ve thought I got him a new John Deere backhoe. John BC went nuts over one of the coolest bottles you’ll ever see. And the giant purple bag that’s like a collector’s item in his world. He loves this whiskey.
Thanks to Crown for this opportunity for my dad. We’re so happy to be partnering with Crown Royal. It’s a highlight of dad’s summer.
It’s the fanciest bottle of liquor John BC has ever had in his house…so fancy:
If you’ve been keeping tabs on Queen Elizabeth II, then you’re likely well aware that she’s not your average 91-year-old — she drives her own car, uses Twitter, and oh, yeah, binges Netflix like the rest of us. Although there’s no word on what she thought about 13 Reasons Why, there’s one show she surprisingly is a big fan of: The Crown. Netflix’s original series is a lavish look into the early days of Queen Elizabeth II’s rise to power and her first years of marriage to Prince Philip, and despite a few factual errors throughout season one, the real-life queen has reportedly given it her blessing.
According to The Daily Express, Her Majesty began watching the show after her son and daughter-in-law Prince Edward and his wife, Sophie, recommended it to her. «Edward and Sophie love The Crown,» a senior royal source revealed. «It has been a longstanding arrangement that they drive to Windsor at the weekend to join the queen for an informal supper while watching TV or a film. They have a Netflix account and urged her to watch it with them. Happily, she really liked it, although obviously there were some depictions of events that she found too heavily dramatized.»
The series, which stars Claire Foy and Matt Smith as Elizabeth and Philip, doesn’t shy away from deeply personal issues the couple had to overcome, as well as the scandalous affair Princess Margaret (played by Vanessa Kirby) had with a divorced man. Fortunately the high production values and dedication to honestly telling the story has earned the show rave reviews from both critics and members of the royal family alike. Princess Eugenie recently called the music in the show «wonderful» and remarked that «the story is beautiful, and you feel very proud to watch it.» Lucky for them, season two is on the way.
Considering Guy Ritchie is known for crafting machismo crime capers, it’s little surprise he’s not much for creating complex female characters. Movies that deal in underground crime tend to focus on men, skirting women to the sides as nagging wives or sultry molls. (Or in this case silent stoner girlfriends and snarky twins.) Admittedly, with Sherlock and Man from U.N.C.L.E. he dared to have female leads, yet made sure to keep them nonthreatening to male egos by making them sassy love interests. The only female-fronted movie he has to date was Swept Away, which starred his then-wife Madonna. But Ritchie takes his general disinterest in female characters to disturbing new depths with King Arthur: Legend of the Sword, where women in fridges nearly outnumber men with swords.
Spoilers for King Arthur: Legend of the Sword below.
Inspired by the tales of the Knights of the Round Table, the fantasy/action flick follows a burly, street-smart Arthur (Charlie Hunnam) on a quest to topple the evil king Vortigern (Jude Law) who stole his throne. In a lengthy and plot-heavy opening, Ritchie manages to kill off not one but two adoring wives—and in the film’s first ten minutes! This is some Christopher Nolan territory, where a female character’s main function is to be the fulcrum to give a man feels through her undeserved demise. It’s a sexist device that predates both filmmakers. Thanks to its prevalence in comics, it’s called «fridging.» Fitting then that Arthur’s mom bites it in a scene probably pitched as «like Batman but with swords!»
Dashing down Camelot’s version of Crime Alley, Arthur’s parents are slain before his eyes by the vicious villain, whose actions here accidentally gives rise to the hero destined to defeat him. But there’s an important distinction between the parents’ deaths. His mother is killed first, and her final moments will haunt her son in nightmares and visions throughout the rest of the film. She is his loss personified. And that is all she is, because no sooner did we meet her in the throne room, where she nuzzled her son and husband, than we saw her murdered in front of both.
Arthur’s father Uther (Eric Bana) is also slain, but notably after we’ve seen him established as a brave ruler who valiantly and single-handedly saved his kingdom from a maniacal army of mammoths and mages. He actually gets some story and screentime. His death is painted as sad and noble, as he sacrifices himself, not only so his son may live, but also in a way that prevents his greedy brother from gaining the super-powered sword Excalibur. His Queen doesn’t get a moment of glory. She’s just killed so that Arthur can have a tragic backstory. And she’s not alone.
In a dark magic ritual, the vicious Vortigern also slaughters his own wife moments after her first appearance on screen. He cries as he stabs her to death, showing us that he wants power so much he’d sacrifice his lady property to get it. He’ll repeat this move in the third act, killing his only child (a girl of course) in the same ritual. Like her mother, his daughter has no purpose in the film but to be slain for the furthering of a man’s story. She’s introduced as a child, reprimanded as a teen, then disappears for most of the second act before being pulled back in to be murdered. She follows in the «women in fridges» footsteps of her mother, and her aunt. And that’s not all!
Ritchie can’t get enough of killing ladies to give dudes sad feels. To push Arthur to do his evil bidding, Vortigern gathers up the sex workers from the brothel where the true king was raised, and then slits the throat of Arthur’s friend Lucy. Now, don’t dare think her actually having a name means Lucy is a character of any kind. She is more than just a tool to make Arthur feel. She also exists to make him look goodheroic caring. Introduced battered (and presumably raped) by Vikings, Lucy and her bruises shows us Arthur is a «good guy» because he beat up her attackers and mugged them, giving her the stolen gold. He doesn’t care for her by tending to her wounds, or talking to her about her trauma. He gives her a buck-up speech and money, then we won’t see her again until it’s time to get her throat slit. What a hero.
To Ritchie’s credit, he does manage to work some women into this story who are more than murder victims. There’s the Lady in the Lake, who has a scene or two, swimming and sword chucking. There’s resistance spy Maggie, who actually has a plot point of delivering important intelligence to the Resistance. There’s some slimy, tentacled sirens, who almost show their tits and hiss ominous things. That’s literally all they do, but hey at least they’re not murdered for man feels!
The only major female character is played by Astrid Bergès-Frisbey, and she—I kid you not—doesn’t have a name! They call her only «the Mage,» and she was my favorite mainly because she had no patience for Arthur’s insistence that he’s charming. To be honest, I actually thought she was Vortigern’s daughter for most of the movie, because why not name her otherwise, and why else spend so little time on the only other known royal in the line of succession? But poor movie making was the answer. Still, the Mage actually gets to impact the plot as a major, magical force in the Resistance. She boasts the power to mind control animals and monsters, and she doesn’t even have to fall in love with Arthur or die! This is the level at which King Arthur: Legend of the Sword operates. I was genuinely pleased that one single woman got to have an actual role without having to fawn over the macho doofball hero or be murdered to get his attention.
With moviegoers flocking to female-fronted action films like The Heat, Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Rogue One and every Hunger Games movie, you can understand why Warner Bros would want to wedge a woman into their aspiring King Arthur franchise. And if they needed a roadmap on how to do it, they had solid fantasy productions to look to, from Lord of the Rings to the sensational Merlin mini-series. Yet, they got Guy Ritchie and the tired fridging trope. Which not only makes this period-adventure feel woefully dated, but also has us hoping this franchise will die as swiftly and brutally as—um—that first wife who dies. I don’t think they ever said her name.
It’s nearly midnight, and I’m in an empty ballroom with a bellboy. One room over, a solitary bartender polishes tumblers beneath a chandelier from Gone with the Wind. Downstairs in the casino, neon lights wink and whirl in time with bleeping slot machines, and somewhere below that, a 25-ton cement door guards the entrance to a labyrinth of rooms frozen in perpetual readiness for the nuclear apocalypse. Outside, the mountains of West Virginia loom in the darkness. If my life were an endlessly rolling indie film, I’d be certain that Wes Anderson directed this portion: A Weekend at The Greenbrier Hotel.
Located in West Virginia’s White Sulphur Springs, a town nestled in Appalachia’s Allegheny mountains, The Greenbrier’s sheer grandiosity—11,000 acres, 710 rooms (done in a decidedly non-minimalist style by interior designer Dorothy Draper in 1946)—is astounding. Upwards of 2,000 employees operate 20 dining and lounge venues, 38 retail shops, five golf courses, an expansive mineral spa, a bowling alley, a movie theatre, an Olympic-size indoor pool, and an outdoor infinity pool the size of a small lake. As Larry Klein, vice president of The Greenbrier Sporting Club, says, “Anything that doesn’t involve an ocean, we’ve got you covered.” The area’s geography is overpowering: mountains frame all entries to the resort. On site, adventurers can traverse 23 miles of rolling green highlands. Fish shimmer in babbling brooks; hawks cast their silhouettes against crisp blue skies. It’s a setting straight out of a John Denver song.
In 1778, travelers began coming to the Greenbrier Valley in the summer months to “take the waters,” or escape the heat of the city while luxuriating in the cool mountain springs. (The original hotel was built in 1858, and the current structure in 1930.) The next morning, after a breakfast among the majestic columns of the main dining room, I decide to adhere to this custom, and slip into my suite’s Jacuzzi-style bathtub to read up on the hotel’s history. Twenty-six presidents have visited. The last sitting one to make the trek was Dwight Eisenhower, who allegedly came for the golf but was more likely here to oversee construction of what has become The Greenbrier’s most fascinating contribution to American history: the Cold War bunker, a subterranean, post-WWII chamber designed as a relocation facility for Congress in the event of a nuclear attack on Washington. I deliberate the odds that Ike and I have “taken the waters” in the same tub.
The Greenbrier resort’s Cameo Ballroom Photo by Greenbrier County CVB.
Many describe the property as the feather in the cap of West Virginia. Since 2009, that cap has been resting on the head of Jim Justice, now the state’s governor. When the resort went bankrupt nearly a decade ago, Justice, a native coal mining and agriculture tycoon, bought the property and gave it a $ 350 million facelift. After his 2016 election he divested from the business, but his daughter Jill still runs its day-to-day affairs.
While much of The Greenbrier’s appeal is rooted in nostalgia, management continues to cast an eye to the future. Klein says they see The Greenbrier and its neighboring town of Lewisburg—a beacon of West Virginia’s arts community—as a harbinger for the state’s tourism industry. “We just need to get the word out,” he says. “There’s no reason White Sulphur Springs or Lewisburg couldn’t be the Vail of the East.”
Transforming a single resort into an international tourism hub requires investment in many areas, including real estate. That’s where The Greenbrier Sporting Club comes in: Launched in 2000, members pay an initiation fee of $ 120,000 and are also required to own property here. Today there are more than 400 private homes (pro golfers Bubba Watson and Phil Mickelson are among their owners).
After a last supper at Draper’s, the hotel’s bubble-gum pink, 50s ice-cream parlor eatery, I stroll the grounds, passing a romantic gazebo, and then stumbling upon a trail. I wander up and up, past cozily lit cottages and past clusters of elegant chalets. I climb higher, swallowing deep gulps of cool mountain air. Eventually I reach a small clearing overlooking the great white Greenbrier, unfurled across the valley below. I wonder how many have stood here before me, taking in the grandeur and the glamour, sad to the see the credits roll on A Weekend at The Greenbrier Hotel.
That being said, we’re taking it to our royal-loving readers: is Harry hotter than William now? And if so, what year did he take the throne away? Scroll through to vote for either William or Harry, year by year. We can’t wait to get this dilemma squared away once and for all.
Last year Netflix released the series The Crown which is about the life and times of Queen Elizabeth II. It’s a gorgeous series, with enormous amounts of money being spent on the sets and costumes, which is obvious in every scene. However, the show seemed to struggle to really connect with the central character, which I assumed was Queen Elizabeth II. It turns out that the problem might have been my understanding of who the central character was, and who the people making the show thought the central character was.
As mentioned by the the ladies of Go Fug Yourself, the creator of The Crown has said that season two will be focused on Prince Phillip. Or I should say MORE focused on Prince Phillip since anyone who watched the first season listened to enough of Matt Smith whining about his fragile masculinity to last a lifetime. To be specific, Peter Morgan told Elle magazine, about Prince Phillip; «I find him extraordinarily interesting—his childhood, again, you couldn’t make it up. The soul of season two is about his complexity.»
Now, I’m not going to deny that Prince Phillip is an interesting historical figure. The political shifts in Europe in the 20th century pulled his family back and forth across the continent, he ended up on the other side of a war from his sisters, he took on a traditionally feminine role in his marriage as the Royal Consort, and he has sat next to the longest serving head of state for her entire reign. I’m sure that he is a fascinating human being in his own right. But I have a suspicion that people watching a show called The Crown are tuning into see, you know, THE WOMAN WEARING THE CROWN not the dude pouting that his wife has a more important job than him. You see that bit there about the «longest serving head of state»? I’m sure she’s a pretty complex and interesting person too! But I suspect that at the heart of it, it’s about how it’s easier for the (only) men writing and directing the show to conceptualize the character of Phillip than it is for them to understand the character of Elizabeth.
Frankly, this is not a new problem, but hopefully it will be an old problem soon. There’s prestige TV centered around women with Big, Little Lies, Feud, and only the Viola Davis parts of How to Get Away With Murder. Game of Thrones has several prominent female characters who are only becoming more central as the series goes one, the same goes for Westworld. Scandal, Pretty Little Liars, and Grey’s Anatomy are woman-centric shows that have been killing television ratings for years now. In the last five years woman-led films were the top grossing movies of the year three times, with The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, The Force Awakens, and Rogue One all winning their respective years. Stories about women are finding audiences, among all genders, and bringing in money. Viewers are, shockingly, able to connect to and sympathize with characters who are women.
If men who create, write, and direct shows are having problems connecting to the women in their shows then maybe they should go find some people who do. I’m sure plenty of women would love the chance to explore the complexity of Queen Elizabeth II if Peter Morgan can’t figure it out.
You can just tell that in the above picture she’s thinking “Of course I’m being honored! Now run me that crown and carry me to the throne room so I can prepare more rib crushing garments for skinny bitches!”
Let’s just get it out the way. I hate Victoria Beckham. She’s a former member of the Jem and the Holograms/Josie and the Pussycats hybrid band the Spice Girls (as Posh Spice). She’s thin. She’s rich. She gets to buss it wide for hot ass David Beckham. And now, she’s about to receive a high British honor: the OBE (or Officer of the Order of the British Empire, for all you non-royal hoes).
That’s right! People reports that based on her charitable and philanthropic works with organizations like UNAIDS and Save The Children, as well as her contributions to the fashion industry, Posh’s name has been placed upon the Queen’s Honors list.
This doesn’t surprise me, though. Posh is kind of iconic. I remember a few years ago while travelling through Europe, everywhere I went, I saw Posh’s dark, soulless eyes judging me from the covers of magazines and billboards. While eating space cakes in Amsterdam, she looked at me like “Drop that cake fat bitch!” While eating at McDonald’s in Tokyo, she looked at me like “Try the fish Fat Ass, there’s plenty of it!!!” I couldn’t escape her dead gaze, and now that’s she’s receiving this honor, I can almost guarantee you she’ll be demanding a crown be made out of diamonds and the tears of the poor (or the people who can’t fit her clothes. Ironically, they’re the same people).
And don’t be surprised when during the ceremony she requests an additional “B” in her title and asks that it be changed to ORIGINAL BOSS BITCH ENTERTAINER right before the rest of the Spice Girls come out and sing “Who Do You Think You Are?” to Prince Harry’s new girlfriend Meghan Markle. That’s gonna be the real reunion.
Posh is, for once, showing emotion and expressing her delight at the honor. But as you already know there’s always some sad troll waiting to say some shit like “Fuck her!” Well, that troll comes in the form of Sarah Vine from The Daily Mail who had this to say (prepare for some hateration from a different kind of OBE- Offended By Everything):
“Victoria Beckham. Erstwhile Posh Spice. Yup, that’s right. Ahead of countless heroic public servants, innovators and inventors, and indeed artists of distinction with decades-long careers of great work, it’s the fringe on a stick who warbled along to Wannabe who receives royal recognition.”
How DARE you Sarah Vine! That warbling stick is a LEGEND! Sarah concluded her piece with:
If this is the best we can do then there is only one conclusion to be drawn. The honours system, established by King George V in 1917 after the First World War as a means of means of ‘rewarding individuals’ personal bravery, achievement or service to the British Empire’, has run its course.
How can this even be legal? When Posh sends the Royal Guard to lock Sarah’s bitter ass up in the gallows for treason, don’t say I didn’t warn y’all! Because you can just imagine after receiving the OBE, Posh will think she’s next in line for a shot at the crown, standing outside of Buckingham Palace at least once a week for tea with the Queen. And don’t get me started on the holidays. I can see her now sitting in between Prince William and Princess Kate asking for more dinner rolls and making drunken flirty Cougar Aunt eyes at Harry. And once she’s good and drunk she’ll stand on the table and belt out Resentment while looking at Prince Charles. She’ll say that it was Princess Diana’s spirit that entered her at the time but the only real spirit she can blame it on is the gin.