For the first time in, oh, let’s say 20 years, the Spice Girls entertained a crowd of, oh, let’s say maybe ten people with a, oh, let’s say horribly lip-synced concert in Vancouver yesterday. And just so you know, the Vancouver I’m talking about here is the one found in Canada and not the one that doesn’t exist in England. I know it’s pretty easy to make that mistake between the two, especially with the Spice Girls waving around the Union Jack here and not a flag with pancakes on it.

Here’s hoping they were bayoneted to death on their way out. Although knowing the Canadians, I’m pretty sure they just offered them universal healthcare instead.

Here’s another picture of some Hollywood stars in Las Vegas last night for the Video Music Awards. And by “Hollywood stars”, I mean two people most famous for having sex on tape and another who’s famous for knowing two people who’ve had sex on tape. You might know them as porn star Ron Jeremy, Hepatitis C carrier Pamela Anderson, and some guy waiting for a dove to land on his hand. I, on the other hand, like to refer to them as my future chauffer, maid, and coat rack.

I say this because, according to my mother, Ron Jeremy is only about 5’ 6”, and even at that height, he’s only about an inch shorter than the tallest man in this picture. So if this picture is any indication as to the average height of your Hollywood star, I – at only six feet tall – could very well fly out there tomorrow and be ruling the place by dinner time.

My plan? Simply find everyone’s drugs and put them some place high like on top of the refrigerator or something. Five minutes later – instant compliance.

Editor’s Note: I know what you’re thinking – “but what about the stars that don’t use drugs like Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie?” Easy, I just take their birth control instead. Because if there’s one thing Hollywood hates more than you, it’s responsibility.

I’m not going to pretend that I know what’s going on in this picture, but I pray it has something to do with Pamela Anderson being punched in the stomach. Repeatedly. With brass knuckles AND a roll of quarters. By that guy in the blue shirt in front of her - who was the last puncher in a line of fifty guys who all had really bad aim and hit her in the uterus instead. Because god damn it, that’s what you get for allowing Tommy Lee to impregnate you. You get a beating to guarantee that it will never happen again.

Editor’s Note: Seriously, it’s the law. Feel free to look it up while I field all this hate mail.

There are so many things going on in this picture right now, I think my head is going to explode. It’s like a shot from a Fellini film if Fellini was still alive and desperate enough to work with Pamela Anderson. The only thing missing here is an exceptionally ugly clown in the background, but I guess Cameron Diaz had more important things to do that day.

I honestly don’t even know where to begin here. The obvious choice, I guess, would be the fat woman hugging Pam’s leg like it was the world’s last piece of chicken. The position of her tongue alone tells you that she’s either really hungry or really horny. It really doesn’t matter which since she’s going to walk away with Hepatitis C regardless.

As for the news crew in the background, I guess you can say they were there to interview the back of Pam’s head since it has a lot less wrinkles than the front of her face. How else are you going to convince the world that Pamela Anderson is still a sex symbol and not just some coked-up hollowed-out old soccer mom who likes to take her “medicine” from a wine glass.

Speaking of glasses, how much do you want to bet that her champagne glass is filled with Miller instead of Cristal? You know, so she can achieve that High Life they’re always talking about. Hey, don’t laugh. It’s obviously working. She is partying at the Playboy Mansion after all. Which, according to scientists, is about seventy-five percent more classy now that James Caan is no longer living there.

And finally, it’s nice to see Pam straddling something a lot less mushy than Kid Rock here. Having sex with that guy must have been like fucking a bowl of oatmeal and cigarette butts, only without the nutritious value.