The Obamas split, the Queen’s bag of blood, and, oh yes, WWIII is coming, in this week’s dubious tabloids.
After 'Globe' readers get the scoop on Honey Boo Boo riding an electric scooter, Goldie Hawn shopping for groceries, and "Fears for Cher After Nose Job," they're treated to the apparently less pressing news that Iran, North Korea and Russia have pushed us "to the point of no return for an Earth-scorching World War III."
And the tabloid' is right: I'm really worried about Cher's nose.
WWIII does not even merit the smallest mention on the 'Globe' cover, which is dominated by its time-honored sport of Obama-bashing, with the headline: "Michelle & Barack SPLIT!" But it's only work that's keeping the couple apart as the former president globe-trots from his base in Washington, D.C., while Michelle has reportedly been at their rented Los Angeles home as she and Barack work on their lucrative deal to produce films and series for Netflix.
The 'National Enquirer' has an equally dubious cover story: "Divorce Bombshell! Angelina Gives Brad The Kids!" No, Jolie has not given away her six children. She's simply away filming, and the kids are with their father. It's not part of their divorce settlement, or a bombshell. Like the Obamas, it's just a matter of practicality.
If you crave fact-free speculation it's hard to improve on the 'Enquirer' exclusive: "Jen Aniston Testifying At Honeymoon Death Trial!" No, she isn't. Producer's assistant Carmel Musgrove drowned on Aniston's 2015 honeymoon with now-ex-husband Justin Theroux - after the newlyweds had already left Bora Bora, it should be noted. But Aniston isn't even on a list of witnesses yet, because Musgrove's parents' wrongful death lawsuit against producer Joel Silver has not even begun and there is no witness list yet.
Britain's Royal Family continues to provide endless hours of entertainment for the tabloids, though bizarrely one of this week's stories somehow slipped through the cracks in editorial control and happens to be true.
"Queen Always Travels With Bag of Blood," reports the 'Globe.' No, it's not a reference to Prince Philip. It's a real bag of blood - blue blood, one assumes - that accompanies Her Majesty on travels to countries that President Trump might brand "shitholes," or which in British parlance are nations where a ready supply of safe blood for transfusions is not readily assured.
Less convincing is the 'Enquirer' story "Duchess in Distress! Pressures of Royal Life Push Meghan to Breaking Point." The Duchess of Sussex is evidently so distressed that she merits a meagre six short paragraphs claiming that she has "struggled with adjusting to British high society." Perhaps she'd feel less stressed if she carried a spare bag of blood around with her?
The typically trash-talking tabloids inexplicably go ga-ga over newly released photos of Prince William and Kate's infant son Prince George.
"By George, He's Cute!" raves the 'Globe,' perhaps setting him up for a coming pre-school kiss-and-tell from a disgruntled classmate.
"Birthday Boy George Is Queen's Favorite!" gushes the 'Enquirer," which claims that the Queen "knows she doesn't have much time left. She's vowed to spend every moment she can with George." More likely, one imagines that George is the only Royal old enough to talk to the Queen who hasn't royally pissed her off yet.
'Us' magazine brings us one of its typical bait-and-switch exclusives, promising on its cover: "Former Scientologist Tells All! Suri's Life Without Daddy."
Alarm bells ring when we learn that the person promising to "tell all" about Scientology poster boy Tom Cruise and his daughter Suri is opera singer Placido Domingo's ex-daughter-in-law Samantha, who left the cult in 2004 - two years before Suri was born.
How much of this four-page "tell all" is devoted to Suri? Four short sentences. A total of 109 words. Now that's a great tell-all.
And what does Domingo tell about Suri's life without Cruise? She speculates that their last public sighting together in 2013 was "maybe" just a "photo-op," and repeats a well-worn claim about Scientology belief that "Suri's not really his daughter - she's just a spiritual being in his daughter's body."
The rest of the four-page spread is packed with ancient allegations: Nicole Kidman was branded a "suppressive person" by the Church and ostracized, Jada Pinkett Smith may have been a Church recruiter, and Juliette Lewis tried to recruit then-boyfriend Brad Pitt, and former cult devotee Leah Remini is - shock, horror - "dead serious when it comes to taking down Scientology."
'People' magazine somehow missed the scoop on WWIII, and instead devotes its cover to a story of far greater global importance.
"Bachelorette Betrayed!" screams its headline about reality TV's Hannah Brown. "I Won't Marry a Liar." You have to admire a woman who sticks to her principles and breaks off her engagement to the show's winning suitor after discovering that he had not told her about a girlfriend he was dating before he began filming 'The Bachelorette.'
Would it be churlish to point out that this righteous indignation comes from a woman who confessed to sleeping with another contestant four times while romancing her fianci(C) during filming of the show?
Fortunately we have the crack investigative team at 'Us' mag to tell us that Anne Hathaway wore it best, that actress Tia Mowry admits "I burp a lot," that Jamie-Lynn Sigler's five-year-old son Beau carries chickpea pasta, grated Parmesan cheese and gummies in his Pottery Barn Kids shark lunch box (I kid you not. Perhaps they've simply run out of celebrities willing to open their purses to ridicule), and that the stars are just like us: they shop for groceries (there's Goldie Hawn again!) pick up dry cleaning, and stay hydrated.
For those millions worldwide terrified that Cher's plastic surgery will "destroy her looks and her career," a cosmetic surgeon who has not treated the singer-actress claims that her nose has been irrevocably changed: the "tip is smaller and rotated upwards."
Oh, the humanity. If that's not reason enough to start WWIII, I don't know what is.
Onwards and downwards . . .