Clive Davis's Pre-Grammy party is always a highlight of Grammy weekend. Here we see Clive himself, looking like an old mobster.
One of Clive's main claims-to-fame is that he discovered Whitney Houston. Where did he discover her? Under a ratty blanket crawling with fleas in the corner of an abandoned warehouse? And is it too late for Clive to undiscover her?
Here's Carrie Underwood. I suppose Carrie will win a whole bunch of Grammys tonight and make people resent her even more. One of these days, Faith Hill and Martina McBride are going to kidnap Carrie, and drag her off someplace and beat the hell out of her with bricks stuffed inside socks.
Rocker Slash. Um, would someone inform Slash that it's no longer 1988?
Christina Aguilera performs in a get-up Tina Turner might've worn. Is she giving a Nazi salute? Maybe she wants to be the next Leni Riefenstahl. Is she taking mountain-climbing lessons yet?
Barry Manilow, aka The King Of Lame. I think Barry should give Siegfried Fischbacher a call. Siegfried needs a new partner ever since Roy Horn had his face bitten off, and Barry would be perfect. They could do their little animal-teasing act, then Barry could sing a few tunes. It would be the gayest, most fabulous thing in the history of the world.
Ashlee Simpson, aka The Sane One. All right, it's time for people to stop inviting Ashlee Simpson to things. We have to disabuse this dumb bitch of the notion that she's famous. You know, perform a do-over. "Ashlee, we're sorry, but we made a mistake when we started treating you like a celeb. We thought you were going to be a cute, plucky little punk-rocker, but then you got your nose amputated and, well, you stopped being even remotely interesting. Now you just make us feel sad every time we see you. So, if it's not asking too much, could you please just go away? Maybe move to the desert some place and open up a gas station. Find a nice Navajo guy to marry. Anything. Just...fuck off."
Oh look, it's the new "cleaned-up" Whitney. I don't know about you, but I preferred her as a crackhead. Whitney + Bobby Brown + lots of drugs = entertainment. Whitney - Bobby Brown - drugs = some broad shrieking old Dolly Parton tunes.
Nick Lachey squeezes in between Kat McPhee and Vanessa Minnillo. That high whistling sound you hear is the steam coming out of Jessica Simpson's ears.(BTW: Nick is too hot for either of those silly tramps, if you ask me.)
Alecia Moore performs. Alecia recently had a memorial to her dead dog tattooed on the inside of her left arm. I love a girl with class, don't you?
Kid Rock and Sharon Osbourne. Is there anything to report here I wonder? Nah, she's way too old for him. However, if you are going to screw around, there's an advantage to doing it with Sharon Osbourne - you don't have to worry about her husband finding out, because he's too bombed out of his mind.Just don't try picturing Kid Rock and Sharon Osbourne actually having sex. You could drive yourself insane.
Fergie takes the stage. Don't give anyone any ideas there, Fergie. Not that we haven't already had that idea...
