America, I am disappoint.

Not only has Entourage been picked up for a sixth season, it seems they’re planning two more and then an Entourage movie.  That’s right, an Entourage movie.  I wonder if Turtle will shop for shoes lol!

At the “Lovely Bones” premiere last night in New York, Wahlberg told me that there are two seasons left of “Entourage” on TV. And then? “We’ll see, there could be more. But then, a movie.” [THR] [see also WarmingGlow]

So, that’s two seasons of Entourage, then an Entourage movie.  Then locusts, then pestilence, dogs living with cats, etc.  And as if to put the dinglecherry on this sh-t sundae, the news came from none other than Roger Friedman.

While we were talking in the Oak Room at the Plaza Hotel after the movie — in a party so full that it would have welcomed Washington’s Salahi’s  [*rimshot*] — Wahlberg must have greeted two dozen friends. The nice thing was, there was no nuttiness. He is the epitome of down to earth and accessible. There was no “entourage.”

“Are they friends from Boston?” I asked.

Wahlberg shook his head. “All my friends from Boston are either dead or in jail,” he replied. He’s said it before, so I asked: “They can’t still be in jail after all this time?”

Wahlberg didn’t hesitate. “The stuff they did, you don’t get out of jail.”

Wow, that’s deep, bro, and could you pass the paté?  I got dry toast points over here.

Dennis Hopper’s manager confirmed that the 73-year-old has been diagnosed with prostate cancer and will be canceling all commitments to focus on treatment — a story USA Today chose to accompany with this banner ad asking “who is pop culture’s biggest mover and shaker?” with pictures of Kate Gosselin, Ivanka Trump, and Khloe Kardashian.  Maybe it was their subtle way of saying, “Perhaps not being alive right now wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Manager Sam Maydew says the 73-year-old actor and artist is being treated through a “special program” at the University of Southern California. Asked about Hopper’s prognosis, Maydew said, “We’re hoping for the best.”

In related (crappy) news, Nic Cage’s father (and Francis Ford Coppola’s brother), August Coppola, died of a heart attack yesterday at age 75.

Coppola taught literature and served as dean of creative arts at San Francisco State University. Besides Cage, Coppola is survived by sons Christopher and Marc and three grandchildren.

So that’s pretty crappy.  Making a joke about this would be in pretty poor taste, so I’ll simply go out on a limb here and say that Weston Coppola Cage will be wearing black to the funeral.

Henry Gibson, leader of the Illinois Nazis in Blues Brothers, the creepy neighbor in The Burbs, original member of Laugh-In, apparently at some point a Ferengi, and most commonly known as “you know, that guy from that one movie”, is dead at age 73.  Cancer again.

Gibson’s breakthrough came in 1968 when he was cast as a member of the original ensemble of NBC’s top-rated “Laugh-In,” on which he performed for three seasons. Each week, a giant flower in his hand, he recited a signature poem, introducing them with the catch phrase that became his signature: “A Poem, by Henry Gibson.”
After “Laugh-In,” he played the evil Dr. Verringer in “The Long Goodbye” (1973), the first of four films in which he appeared for director Robert Altman. Their second collaboration came in “Nashville” (1975), in which Gibson earned a Golden Globe nomination and a National Society of Film Critics supporting-actor award for his performance as unctuous country singer Haven Hamilton. He also wrote his character’s songs.
Born James Bateman in Germantown, Pa., on Sept. 21, 1935, Gibson began acting professionally at age 8. After graduating from Catholic University, he served in France from 1957-60 as an intelligence officer with the Air Force, then studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London.
Back in New York, the actor developed the comic persona of “Henry Gibson” (a pun on the name of playwright Henrik Ibsen), a humble, wide-eyed poet laureate from Fairhope, Ala. [THR]

I know we’re all mourning right now, but take solace in the fact that Gibson’s memory will live on forever in my heart, which I eventually plan on transplanting into an indestructible sexbot, whose exploits will be the envy of the entire galaxy for all eternity.  In the name of the father, the son, and the holy sexbot, amen.
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Two obit posts in a row??!?  Welcome to 2009, the year Death acted like a total butthole.  Anyway, it appears earlier reports that Patrick Swayze might be recovering thanks to an experimental procedure (after being diagnosed with stage IV pancreatic cancer in January ’08) were just false hope.  Swayze died yesterday in LA at the age of 57, which is pretty much the lamest thing ever.  Gawdammit, the only time you’re allowed to declare Patrick Swayze a dead man is after he tells you there’s always barber college.

He was Dalton, he was Bodhi, he saved Baby from the corner, where she surely would’ve been aborted by parents who didn’t understand the dance.  Has anyone else ever been in so many bad movies that everyone loves?  Not to mention, he was the best part of Donnie Darko and co-starred in arguably the most memorable SNL sketch of the 90s.  I don’t normally like to gush about dead people, because when an a-hole dies he doesn’t magically become not an a-hole, no matter what anyone says about him.  You have to honor an a-hole’s memory by remembering him for the a-hole that he was (see: Hunter S. Thompson on the passing of Richard Nixon).  But in all honesty, anyone who doesn’t have at least two or three glowy, pop-culture nostalgia memories involving Patrick Swayze is a two-bit liar and a charlatan, and I wouldn’t sit next to him if it was the last seat on an escape pod.  Maybe if you doctors spent half the time you spend giving people who shouldn’t be boning anyway boners you’d have this cancer crap licked by now.  So stop playing grabass back there in the lab and get going on some serious research, the kind that involves stethoscopes and bunsen burners and all that sh’t.  You already lost us Dalton, but I’ve got some important contributions to humanity that I’m maybe probably going to start working on tomorrow after I cook some food and put on my pants and maybe watch a little TV. And you wouldn’t want to miss out on it over a retarded thing like cancer.

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James McAvoy is set to star as a 25-year-old who battles cancer (hopefully with lasers while riding a puma) in a comedy produced by Seth Rogan, Ben Karlin, and Evan Goldberg (AKA “The Jew Crew”).  It’s based on screenwriter Will Reiser’s autobiographical novel I’m With Cancer.  Rogen will also have a role in the film.

They aren’t planning to title the movie I’m With Cancer, which is good, because I don’t think the word “cancer” sounds like a comedy at all.

Variety reports:

It will be the first pic Rogen and Goldberg have produced together. They penned the Judd Apatow-produced laffers Superbad and Pineapple Express and were executive producers on those films. They’re also exec producing actioner The Green Hornet at Sony.

Whoa.  Hang on.  “Laffers”?  “Actioner”?  Did this summabitch just say Superbad and Pineapple Express were laffers and The Green Hornet is an actioner?  You can’t just make up words, you wizzlscatgiraffe.  Go eat a bag of cancer.

Hmm, maybe I was wrong.  Somebody getting cancer could be funny.

~ robopanda