It's been about - oooooh - two weeks, or so, since Michael's opened his trap about things that marginally concern him. You can almost see him sitting alone in the dark, quivering slightly, steam starting to billow softly from his ears. He then emits a high-pitched wail, vibrates quickly over to the nearest communication device, and bubbles the following about his new favourite target - Samantha Ronson: "Look at the way she 'dresses'? Once more, she uses her middle finger more than she uses words! Personally, I think she is dark, hideous and a disgusting representation of humanity! Have you ever seen her apartment? (No, why would I have?) For God's sake, when she runs out of toilet paper she tells people to use the cardboard roll. I was told this first hand... The Lindsay I knew, never would have missed his wake or funeral (Michael's dad passed away recently and Lindsay opted to go shopping instead of attending the ceremony). But since being around Samantha, she has become a different person!" Over to you, Samantha - assuming you're not stranded, tissueless, on your jacks... (apologies for visual of Sam Ronson astride a bowel... Scrap that, it should be Michael apologising for the image of him dropping off the kids in Samantha's pool. Why was he there, anyway? Don't they hate each other? Perhaps he just called in to use the facilities 'cause he's usually homeless).
Here are some snaps of Michael's replacement daughter, otherwise known as his fiance Erin Muller. You might also enjoy the pictures of Michael randomly posing with a sweaty Pedro from Napolean Dynamite.