A new column has arrived, brought to you in part by my unslakable lust for talented people.

I bet you didn’t know this, but I’m a huge polygamist. Not the creepy Mormon kind, but the “holy shit there are too many attractive people that I want to bang for me to even think about being monogamous” kind. You see, I have about 27 celebrity husbands and 15 or 16 celebrity wives, and I’ve been gathering my famous spouses like beanie babies since, oh, 2001. I am married to 43 people. 43, you fuckers. It’s a big list, one that has been in flux since the start. Oh, I have my fixed 10, and they will remain in their spots on the list until the day I die and take my rightful place on the throne of Hell, but I’m constantly marrying and divorcing other people like it’s my job.

And guess what? Every Thursday, you’ll get to learn about 1 or 2 of them. Prepare yourself for Cinematic Polyamory, or “R.C.’s ovaries explode so often that the frequency can’t be textually rendered”. This post is a little late, as I spent last night stuffing my face at a fundraiser dinner, so apologies for cluttering up the Friday dashboard.

But why don’t we begin this ridiculousness with my number ones?
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