"4:59 pm: It's a minute to show time, and I find my seat in the second row (right behind the cast of 30 Rock!) The seat filler before me was sweaty … so my chair was wet. Gross!"—Professional Barf Gwyneth Paltrow, in her "Emmys Scrapbook," from the latest edition of her insufferable newsletter GOOP—a revoltingly indulgent project in which she explains to the average peasant how very easy it is to be beautiful, fashionable, cultured, thin, and healthy, if only you put in a little effort, geez.
"That IS gross. But so are you for complaining about it. Just let it go, you're at the fucking Emmys in a million dollars worth of borrowed jewelry after a night in France for a friend's birthday dinner. Someone else has a human body. Fucking get over it."—Gabe, who has approximately as much contempt for Gwyneth's abundant disgorgements of privilege as I do, fisking her "Emmys Scrapbook" in his inimitable style.
