It’s a dog’s life for Jesse James

Does anyone remember that old Dave Allen skit, where he’s a postman who sees a warning sign on a picket gate BEWARE OF GOD it said, so he laughs, figures it’s written by a remedial speller, opens the gate, walks through, and is struck by lightning?

No reason I ask.

It’s time to admit I was wrong: God doesn’t hate Sandra Bullock; God hates Jesse James. Well, these days who doesn’t? The proof is incontrovertible:

- The viciously-timed release of his tattoo model plaything’s tell-all (as Dorothy Parker once said, kiss and tell is better than fuck and publish, especially when his wife’s just won an Oscar, well maybe I made up that Oscar part) which reminded people they never really, truly thought he was good enough for Bullock in the first place. What a dirty dog.

- The immediate, worldwide, and apparently unanimous howls of outrage as the entire planet joined Team Sandy!™ and America’s Sweetheart 2.0 won and retained hearts and minds by remaining stoically (or cleverly, or well-advisedly) silent. As James Carville used to say when he felt like quoting Napoleon, never interfere with your enemy when he is destroying himself.

- Jesse’s being forced to fill in the PR void with a vague apology accepting responsibility, but not saying exactly what for.

I deserve everything bad that is coming my way.

So, we’re all agreed on that then. BAD JESSE!!!

- Sandra’s canceled London Blind Side premiere with the accompanying emotionally neutral yet implicity blame-laying statement from a Warner Bros PR person who is probably earning good hazard pay for dodging some of the more explosive questions. They’ve been hounded by the press, of course.

- Jesse’s getting dogged by the paparazzi and practically patted down for a wedding ring when he picked up the kids from school, in contrast to Sandra’s last photo-op, doing exactly the same thing a week ago peacefully before the news broke

- New parsings of the Oscar ceremony video, in which you can practically see the throbbing veins in her neck as she snubs him while he beams at her like a puppy. Judge for yourself: – The fact that she didn’t actually thank her husband during her speech, although she did thank her “lover” Meryl Streep repeatedly. Bitch!

No, really, what does he mean by that? Babe? Babe?

- Finally, and worst of all, not only has his wife left him but so has Cinnabun, his dog.

Jesse's got some 'splainin to do!

Update: Cinnabun has gone back to Jesse. Poor Cinnabun: codependent relationships are terrible for a bitch’s self-respect.

Cinnabun hates herself because she can't help herself

Yep, he’s in the doghouse for sure.