This Week in Gossip #34

Poopity scoop, cowboy Costner, a Marchioness’s disappearance, and Bebe Rexha’s target practice.

Okay, We have to Talk About the Gwyneth Paltrow-Derek Blasberg Poop Drama

Some celebrity gossip isn’t fun. A lot of the stuff we cover here is quite serious and delves into complicated issues. But then there are moments like phantom poopers at GOOP HQ and you feel as though a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

Both Deuxmoi and the Popbitch newsletter covered a blind story about a “wordsmith” who had experienced an explosive fecal incident during a party at Gwyneth Paltrow’s house. As Popbitch put it, "The story goes that a recent houseguest of Gwynnie's catastrophically shat themselves in bed while staying there, then fled back to the city before they had to face the music." They posited that it might have been a case of "Ozempic-induced diarrhoea", which has apparently become a hot-button issue for Hamptons residents. Certainly, the already-notorious diabetes drug which has become a favourite for weight loss has many reported side-effects, including intestinal distress. The idea of someone going full “Spud from Trainspotting” at Paltrow’s house was the right level of gross and hilarious for people to begin speculating as to who the Butt-ler really was (joke stolen from Bob’s Burgers.)

Well, the Daily Mail got there first and claimed that the culprit is Derek Blasberg, a man they described as a celebrity hanger-on. Blasberg is a writer and socialite who used to work as the head of fashion and beauty partnerships at YouTube. He does some work for the Gagosian gallery but he's mostly known for being friends with seemingly every vaguely famous person. He's like the less employed Rita Ora. The second line of his Wiki bio in the personal life section notes that Jeff Bezos, Kris Jenner, and Anne Hathaway helped him celebrate his 42nd birthday" with a big party this past May.

Also, he wrote books on etiquette for women with the subtitle, “Be a Lady, Not a Tramp.” No word on whether or not a classic “sh*t and run” counts as classy.

A story like this is at its funniest when you get that balance of high-low stakes, familiar faces, and people who are well-known but not so famous that you have any preconceptions about them. Blasberg, to those who do know him, is a full Who, a guy known more for who he’s seen with than his own achievements. His Instagram is a veritable smorgasbord of A-Listers with whom he is friends, from Jane Fonda to Anne Hathaway to Glen Close and more. The idea of a guy whose sole job seems to be hanging out with celebs sh*tting the bed so spectacularly (literally and metaphorically) is funny. It’s just so ridiculous and almost giddy to imagine this situation of total obscene privilege, the kind of woo-woo stuff we expect from Gwyneth, being interrupted by explosive poop. Hey, it was a tough news week politically and this was a fun break!

This story has also stuck around because it’s been an open secret for ages. Variety, of all places, wrote about it and noted that they had heard about it several weeks ago. They also, rather bitchily, said that "the biggest message in all the muck is a sense of Biblical justice for Blasberg, a figure whose profile some observers think is smoke and mirrors in a town that demands proof of value." Ouch. It's not untrue though. Blasberg's carefully crafted image is one of smarmy socialite power, a mystical allure that draws the likes of Barry Diller and Alexander Skarsgard into his web but confounds all outsiders. We're not especially kind to people who seem to have it all without doing anything, for better or worse. Poop is an equalizer in that regard. Add to it the claims that it might have been Ozempic induced (Variety says the story they heard was of Blasberg mixing it with Nyquil) and it seems more like justice against a privileged dude at a time when diabetes patients can't get the medicine they need because guys like him need to be ten pounds thinner.

But how did the story get out? Who leaked it? Because someone definitely did, and they made sure that Blasberg’s name was out there. Reports suggest it was intended as a warning to Blasberg's other famous friends to ensure he didn't get too cozy in their own homes. Was this meant to put Blasberg in his place, to remind him that he's in their circle but he's not the centre of it? The fact that Variety is writing about this, and doing it with such cruel glee in a way that the usually sympathetic industry trades avoid, feels like evidence of that. Imagine being read to filth by the site that reports on actors switching agents and reviews the latest Star Wars show (although it’s also probably more indicative of the fact that we’re all scrambling desperately for page views and not even the seemingly safe sites are immune, oh god, we’re all going to crash and burn…)

If I were Blasberg, I would never talk about this story. I wouldn’t even acknowledge it. Don’t add fuel to the fire. Let it pass then go back to posting selfies with supermodels. But also maybe pack a portable bidet and spare boxer shorts on your next holiday. And don’t use Ozempic if you don’t need it!

Seriously, Stop Throwing Stuff at Bebe Rexha While She’s Trying to Perform!

Last June, singer Bebe Rexha was performing in New York when she was struck in the face by a phone flung at her by a so-called fan. The attack resulted in a black eye and split eyebrow. The perpetrator eventually received a 40 day community service order as punishment. For some reason, some losers saw this physical attack on a celebrity and decided they'd like to try and replicate the experience.

During her performance at the Palmesus Festival in Kristiansand, Norway, Rexha called out an attendee who was trying to throw something on stage. Said person was later ejected from the event. Rexha said (via Billboard), "If you hit me with something on stage right now, I’ll take you for everything you’ve f*cking got. Do not f*cking play with me right now. Out! Get the f*ck out."

Good for her. I saw that video of that jerk throwing a phone at her face. It looked so painful and that creep had the audacity to look proud of what he did. He was so giddy that he’d physically assaulted a woman. And that’s what we’re dealing with here. We could talk about fan entitlement or a hunger to go viral or a post-lockdown inability to act like a normal effing person in public, but I think the issue is far simpler: some people just want to hurt others.