The contestants for next season's Dancing With The Stars have been announced, breathing life into the near-forgotten careers of several of its c-list celebrity hopefuls. Although I thought this program had already served its purpose by promoting the inherent hotness of Stacy Keibler beyond the sphere of sweaty 13-year olds watching Monday Night Raw; I applaud its charitable attempt to revive the forgotten Shannon Elizabeth, thereby freeing her from the sphere of sweaty 13-year olds clumsily masturbating to an old VHS of American Pie that they found in their brother's room. But lets take a look at some of her "what-the-fuck" competition. Penn? As in from Penn & Teller?! Um... ok, I guess. I mean, everyone loves a magician who is constantly kind-of a dick. But in a funny way. But Adam Carolla?! How much did you have to pay Jimmy Kimmel to unlock his storage locker and lend him to you for a few weeks? And Jason Taylor?! Unless they mean the 30-ft British robot version of him from the NYG-Miami game in London, I'm not interested (side note: if they ARE talking about that robot, why even have the contest? Just film it laying havoc to downtown Newark or something and split it up into 18 or so, hour-long episodes) And Steve Guttenberg?! Guttes! Don't do it, Mahoney! Did you see what your co-star, Priscilla Presley, looks like now? When did "unholy ghoul" become a fashionable look? And yes, I made it through this entire post without making a Monica Seles stab-joke. Wait. Whoops.
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