Fugger: Brangelina

Fug or Fab or Feh: Brangelina


PITT: Yep.

JOLIE: Right.

PITT: Totes.

JOLIE: Coif?

PITT: Black?

JOLIE: Touche.

PITT: Zing.

JOLIE: Drink?

PITT: Immediately.

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Legends of the Fug

Oftentimes, a celebrity will make an appearance next to his or her brand-spanking-new waxwork. But it can’t be a coincidence that Brad Pitt didn’t show up for this one, which just debuted at the Musée Grévin in France. Somebody must have tipped him off that it’s a hot mess. No, not even a hot mess. It’s a smoking ruin of a mess. It’s a crater on the face of Planet What?!? It is this:

Is Brad Pitt that tired? Is Brad Pitt that crinkly? Is Brad Pitt secretly on the business end of a week-long crack bender, fueled by ouzo and occasional shots of actual gasoline? Is Brad Pitt that… gasp… OLD?

Let’s take a look at them side by side.

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Fug or Fab, Again: Angelina Jolie

The other day, somebody wondered why we always Fug or Fab Angelina Jolie. All I can really say is, “Because I can never make up my mind what I think of her clothes.” it is very hard to separate her from her own mystique, from the sheer size of her fame and associated stature, and so all those things roll together to make you wonder if she’s wearing something legitimately good, or simply carrying off something you might not otherwise like, or in fact regally wetting the bed. She definitely has an authoritative air about her, she has a face that I personally think is her greatest asset in elevating her outfits, AND she has her own history of bland caftans to contend with that influences our relief over things like, say, this red dress:

She is also marriage-adjacent to Chaz Hands, formerly Ned Pantywaist, formerly the third-most successful Fiat dealer in all of Cannes, formerly B.Pittz, formerly Brad Pitt. And I’m so heartened to see him halfway back to the promised land that I might be blinded to all reality. Let’s take a look at Angelina on her own, for clarity.

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Fug or Fab: Angelina Jolie

ANGELINA: Bradley.



BRAD: I’m not Bradley.

ANGELINA: Brad, then.

BRAD: I’m not Brad, either.

ANGELINA: Fine. Joe Isuzu, or whatever that whole thing was.

BRAD: No, Angelina. I’m none of those people tonight.

ANGELINA: Then pray tell, who are you?

who indeed


Fug or Fab: Angelina Jolie

So here La Jolie is, blowing into Cannes like a mega-famous wind of hair and lips and maternal glory. Here she is at her daytime photocall, looking as cool and calm and collected as she ever has — couldn’t you also see the likes of Reese Witherspoon in this outfit, and when is the last time you were able to say THAT about these two? By night, of course, she went with something a bit more dramatic, and I’m not just talking about Brad Pitt’s face. Although I could be. BECAUSE IT IS. Join me.

Are you on board?

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The Fug of Life

“Bonjie, Cannes!”

“Pittzy here, ready to share with you a truly exciting investment opportunity. So, picture it: Two places. Water between them. You’re on one side. You want to go to the other. You can’t get there! What, you think you’ll sprout wings? Hahaha! That’s where bridge technology comes in: We can build a structure that lets you DRIVE from one side to the other, OVER WATER, like you’re freaking Jesus on wheels! And I’m offering you, yes, YOU a chance to buy into this bridge. Let’s call it… Brooklyn, after one of the Beckham kids, am I right? It can be yours for a very low investment of five dollars, plus about twenty-thousand in paperwork and processing fees. Come on, look at me. Look into my shades. Would I lead you down the primrose path? Do I LOOK like a guy who knows what a primrose is? AM I RIGHT. Act now and get a free Hanes undershirt. Don’t wait! Call now. Tell ‘em Pittzy sent ya.”