I'd write about Jesse Metcalfe in rehab but I don't know who Jesse Metcalfe is
Good afternoon, friends and fans of The Juice. (And no, Judith Regan, we don't mean you.)
This is Rick Gershman, late of the Ill Literate arts and entertainment blog, signing in for my first post on The Juice. The Times editors graciously invited me to post here on occasion, seeing as how I'm a perfect complement to fearless Juice editor Josh Gillin.
(See, he likes to post 10 times a day, and I like to post once every 10 days. It's a match made in heaven.)
I might not dive into the Seagal-infested celebrity news waters as often as Josh, because he does it better than I possibly can. (Is it my fault I stopped caring about Lindsay Lohan when she turned 18? Or is it more just... creepy?)
But I will be dropping by to share whatever arts, entertainment and pop cultural musings cross my Mo'Nique's Fat Chance-obsessed mind.
So look for that post this evening, Juiceheads. (And no, Barry Bonds, we don't mean you.)