From the So Freaky Your Head Will Explode Files : Cher dated Tom Cruise

According to a yet to be aired interview conducted by Oprah, Cher discloses that long ago she dated and even shacked up with a then up and coming young actor named Tom Cruise. Yeah, I know. Let me print that for you again: Cher admits that long ago she dated and even shacked up with a then up and coming young actor named Tom Cruise.

Okay, aside from all the rumors about Cruise and his pansexual ways, the Scientology and his nutjob Manson-like intensity this has an eeew factor up there with AARP orgies. When you have the ultimate cougar, Cher, dishing with Oprah, who as far as we're concerned has the worst possible taste in celebrity friends (i.e. John Travolta, Tom Cruise, Jennifer Anniston, et al) film (Catwoman, Basic Instict 2, Bee Movie, et al) and music (Josh Groban, Il Divo, James Blount, et al) chattering like dirty old hags about banging the Risky Business kid twenty years ago you got yourself a shark jumping moment devoid of all dignity.

It easy to see why Cher dragged this chestnut out of the muck for all to imagine. She needs to juice her image for her new Vegas gig at Ceasar's Palace. But c'mon, why have we not heard of this before? "He was so wonderful. And I was so crazy about him," said Cher, "And he was so, like, different. He was a shy boy. He didn't have any money." And there you have it ladies and gentlemen, the cougar prey profile : hot, shy, poor and 16 years younger - "c'mere and let mommy give you a special hug".

Now let it be said that the editorial staff has nothing against the legendary loveliness that comes from an experienced woman teaching a young buck the ways of the world. We just have a problem with the jumping-out-of-the-cake nature of this bombshell and the absolute lack of sexual chemistry it conjures up. This love connection rivals Melissa Etheridge and David Crosby. It certainly doesn't have any of the panache of let's say, Doris Day and Rock Hudson or Wayland Flowers and Madame for that matter.

Well, we wish all involved the best, because careers are slouching towards nadirs and I guess at this point all they have are memories. Lurid, tabloid-esque, I need to take a shower kind of memories that most of us could've done without.

IRONY ALERT! Complaining about a complaint-free world

So somebody here at the Cerebral Itch Scratch Pad offices busted the channel knob off of the old Zenith console TV we have in the lunch room. So now thanks to this intra-office hooligan, we have to watch one channel until someone finds the needle nose pliers. Well, Oprah is on this trapped channel and as chance would have it I recently caught an episode that made me just a tad cranky. It featured Pastor Will Bowen of Christ Church Unity in Kansas City, Missouri. Pastor Will has whipped up a dangerous idea: a complaint-free world.

First off, Pastor Will is high. Anyone who thinks he can live on this planet in 2007 and refrain from casting an aspersion on something or someone is generously self-medicated and delusional. But to be fair, Pastor Will lives in Kansas City so once you weed out all the bitching you would do about living in Kansas City your list gets pretty short (we don't have any shops in K.C. that carry our cards, so f*ck it). This is yet another attempt by the humor and irony challenged population to compensate for their inability to crack wise. When you're funny, complaining is seen as irony, wit and/or sarcasm. When you're not funny, it's called "complaining" or in its feminine form, "whining".

Pastor Will gives away little purple LiveStrong knock-off bracelets that remind you to live a complaint-free day and also to let other people know you're an idiot. He encourages people to try to go complaint-free for 21 days and if successful, you will lead a happier life. Do you know what would happen if I or practically all the people I know tried to go complaint-free for three weeks? There would be a rash of homicides, strokes and alcohol poisonings by people who have ground their teeth down to nothing.

Spare me the platitudes, I'll keep admiring the genius of Dorothy Parker, Noel Coward, Oscar Wilde, Groucho Marx and today's gold-standard in bitching, Lewis Black, et al. In short, Pastor Will can kiss my ass and go complain to someone who cares; oh wait, he can't. I win.