Christina Aguilera attended a news conference in Shanghai yesterday in an effort to convince the Chinese to buy her latest CD – a plan that might have actually worked had she simply kept her enormous breasts under wraps and just let her bright red lipstick do the talking. Because while the Chinese government absolutely adores the color red, they absolutely do not adore the sight on their citizens parading around with raging hard-ons. It is, after all, not America.

Hopefully though, these poor sexually charged souls were not executed for their indiscretions and were allowed to use their hard-earned money to buy her new CD instead of pointless things like birth control. Because that would just be awesome for the world. And for Meg Ryan since a bigger selection is always better.

Editor’s Note: Hey Christina, could you hold that mic a little lower so we can hear what your breasts have to say? Ah, it mustn’t be working. Here, try my penis.

According to a well-placed source deep inside Nazi-occupied France, cabaret star Christina Aguilera is expecting her first child.

From Page Six:

“She’s been telling friends,” said one snitch, who revealed, “she has to be three months now, because she’s announcing it.” This would be the first for Aguilera and her husband, Jordan Bratman.

Ok, so this is where I would normally feign interest in the aforementioned story by writing an overly long paragraph built on meandering nonsense and a mountain of bullshit. Yeah, normally, but not today, my friends. Today I am going to make my point through the strict use of visual aids. So, without further adieu, I present to you my point being made through the strict use of visual aids.

Wait a minute. If Christina Aguilera is here partying at Hyde, then who the hell is running the everlasting gobstopper machine at the chocolate factory. Looks like someone’s getting fired tomorrow. Or, at the very least, beaten and thrown into the East River of chocolate. You know, where Kirstie Alley lives.

As many of you already know, Christina Aguilera appeared on “Ellen” earlier today and confessed to the world that she and her husband Jordan Bratman like to partake in this little thing called “Naked Sunday” – a day in which they do everything in the nude. This includes, but is not limited to, daily routines such as cooking, eating, watching TV, berating the help, getting all coked up, answering e-mails about why she married a guy who looks like he spent the first twenty years of his life chained to a wall in the basement, convincing the pizza delivery man that Jordan is not a hypnotist, and, most shockingly of all, having sex.

For those of you who are seeing this interview for the first time – no doubt because you live in one of the “flyover” states, or, as I like to call them, “we tend to limit our lesbian exposure to stoning them at barbeques and school functions instead of watching them grind with audience members on TV” states – this revelation of Christina’s will be quite a shock to you. Something I can certainly understand since I’m sure that your Sundays are usually reserved for church and cooking for your daddy as he watches football.

If anything, I hope you at least find some comfort in knowing that Christina and her husband probably don’t leave the house that much on Sunday, and that when they do, it’s probably not to attend church, but to get more coke. And I’m not talking about the kind of coke you pick up at Target either. I’m talking about that pure Colombian nose candy. The kind of stuff that makes you want to do something completely immoral like attend church naked and accept communion with your ass.

You know what? Just forget what I said. The moral corruption of Christina and Jordan knows no bounds. “Naked Sunday” is the beginning of the end. Somebody hold me.

Editor’s Note: Yes, I do think it’s entirely possible for me to make my sentences even longer, but that’s only because I’m a man who dares to dream. Thanks for the question.

Blind drunk? Dead tired? Overtly religious? Christina Aguilera is obviously one of those things here, but to be honest, I’m just not smart or bored enough to figure out which. What I do know, however, is that Christina Aguilera is definitely not hot or beautiful or any of those other words men use to describe women they want to have sex with and/or masturbate to or on.

Seriously, if you went ahead and took away her most prominent features – the platinum blonde hair, the press-on eyelashes, the blow-up doll lipstick – you’d be left with someone who looks a lot less like the Jean Harlow in “Blonde Bombshell” and a lot more like the Jean Harlow who died of uremic poisoning in a puddle of her own piss.

What? You don’t believe me? Fine, but you should know that for the past five minutes, you’ve been rubbing your penis against a series of pictures of me in drag and not of Christina Aguilera. All of which proves my point that you could put a platinum blonde wig and some lipstick on the ugliest pig in all the land [i.e. Britney Spears] and still attract more men than Tijuana could on “Two For One Everything” night*.

*includes beers, whores, stabbings, and burials - but definitely NOT marriages because that shit’s sacred and stuff.

Editor’s Note: In case you were wondering, yes, I am standing on my hands in all these shots, and no, I don’t shave my ass. It’s just naturally hairless like that. Kind of like my dog “Kickball”. He’s from China and I get frustrated a lot.