Perez Hilton is blogging on borrowed time. Nope, it’s not the paparazzi-issued lawsuits that are posing the biggest threat to his reign of worsteverness. Instead, the Perez backlash is cresting into tsunami-like proportions thanks to Alexa Ray Joel, of all people. You see, Perez called the — um, how do we put this nicely — distinctively-featured daughter of Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley “shiny” the other day, which resulted in Miss Joel authoring an epic anti-Perez MySpace bulletin frothing with more teen angst than even Angela Chase could bring at her raggiest. She wrote openly of the pressure associated with having famous parents, she railed against the music industry’s desire for hit singles and, most importantly, she complained that people are always ragging on her looks, specifically calling out Perez in the process. You go, gurl!

Perez, who is so self-absorbed that he probably masturbates every time he checks his Technorati referrals, quickly picked up on Miss Joel’s missive and ran it virtually unedited on his site (save for a dribble of spooge he drew on Miss Joel’s mouth). Here’s where things got interesting: instead of going the same route as every other Perez post (90% concur, 10% bitch that he’s too mean), the tide INSTEAD swung against the swarthy sandbagger. At press time, over 1,100 commenters have shown their support for the virtues of playing nice in the sandbox over the brand of mean-spirited awfulness that Perez trades in. Rather than concurring for the millionth time that Fergie really IS a Peepants beyond compare, the faithful flockers focused their vitriol on raging hardcore against both the nasty blogstain himself AND the tabloid machine that built him up. Trust you me, you’ll be blinded by the beauty of the backlash.

After reading these comments, it’s hard to argue that we AREN’T on the brink of a sea change relating to our collective infatuation with Mario Lavandeira. With that in mind, your Uncle Grambo would like to take a quick sec to salute Alexa Ray Joel for doing her part in helping to crush Perez’s empire. Unfortch for us all, this is just the beginning of the movement (meaning, her work probably won’t bring him down anytime soon). But don’t fret! This whole situation just goes to prove that society-at-large is well on its way to arriving at the tipping point where we all turn our backs on durstdevils trading in blatant and oppressive negativity like Perez. With any luck, it won’t be long before he is driven back to the disgusting depths from whence he came. If the glossies have any sense (and that’s a BIG “if”), they’re all working feverishly on big Alexa Ray Joel features for their weekend issues. After all, he IS their primary competition — it’s about damn time they started treating him as such. It’s high time to bury Perez Hilton’s punk ass — personally, I can’t wait for the carnage to begin.

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If you’re anything like your Uncle Grambo, the promo you just watched for National Bingo Night gave you the heebie jeebies somethin’ fierce. Have we really sunk this far as a culture that a network is willing to bet millions of dollars that millions of people will forego every other entertainment option available to them in order to tune in to watch OTHER people play bingo? Apparently, the bean counting pointdexters over at the American Broadcasting Company did their due diligence; they ran the numbers, they shot a pilot and then they focus grouped that shit. And guess what? All signs point towards the show being a surefire hit when it debuts on May 18th.

Not sure what you people make of this news, but it’s got your Uncle Grambo thinking that Mike Judge might know more than he’s letting on. I mean, it COULDN’T have just been a coincidence that my first exposure to the National Bingo Night promo came IMMEDIATELY after watching “Idiocracy” yesterday afternoon, could it? Think about it — the line between National Bingo Night and Ow My Balls is even thinner than Allegra Beck (if, in fact, a line exists at all). Not sure what YOU make of all this, but it’s got your Uncle Grambo thinking that the End Of Days is nigh. No Bingo!

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Say what you will about Dennis Rodman’s trainwreck of a life, at least he can sleep at night knowing he was never photographed cupping George Lucas’ satchel. Reports out of Long Beach also state that John “Spider” Salley dropped his dignity just moments before he picked up Jabba The Durst. LAME!

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What up, playas? Just a quick note to check in and let you know that I have NOT abandoned you, the loving and adoring denizens of the FOW Nation. Rather, your Uncle Grambo has been spending his free time (and disposable income) working on a whatevs (dot org) redesign that I’m hoping will be live by week’s end. Nothing too radical, but I am switching blog providers (bye bye, Blogger, bye bye) and making a number of tweaks that I’m hoping you’ll find to be value adds. I’ve been posting daily — it was one of my resolutions — so it’s only a matter of time before my trademark witticisms become public fodder once again.

Until then, my friends, I leave you naked and vulnerable with nothing but the wise words of Sarah McLachlan to shield you from the blustery chill outdoors. “Hold on, hold on to yourself / `Cause this is gonna hurt like hell.”
— Your Uncle Grambo

PS - Durst’s new look … revealed! What up, Graybeard McGillicudy!?!