Helloooo sweet angel Trash Pandas! It's me, Elinor Jones, back after an achingly long absence with your extremely overdue Trash Report. Last week I was on vacation in Alaska and it was so pretty! I saw whales. They were splashy. I had limited cell reception for a good part of my trip and I felt peace. Hmm, I wonder if macro-dosing the horrors for 16 hours a day is bad for me?

Doesn't matter—I am back on it now! 

National Trash

Trump's hastily-assembled swamp prison Alligator Alcatraz got some fancy congressional visitors this week, with criticism or praise for the internment camp breaking along party lines. One Republican state representative even said that the bunks were more comfortable than his bed at home and, buddy, nobody is forcing you to leave that place. Please stay. There's a lot fucked up with all this, but my main two takeaways are as follows: 1) Republicans are making money off ghoulish merchandise. Maybe what's keeping the Democratic party down isn't the lack of an ability to do literally anything popular or productive, but the general disinterest in tacky hats? 2) I hate to admit it, but if they'd made a shitty knock-off of The Rock in the late '90s and called it Alligator Alcatraz I definitely would have seen it twice in the theater. Somebody really blew it there.  

In other federal news, TSA has announced that they will no longer make people take their shoes off at the airport. They didn't make me do that when I was coming home from Alaska and I didn't know it was a policy thing—I thought it was just Alaska being really confident in their knowledge that they are the buffest Americans we have and any terrorist seeking to start shit on a Alaska-originating flight was bound to fail. 

Couples News!

Justin Bieber dropped a new album and people are excited about it. They're combing through the lyrics, trying to figure out what has gone down in his marriage with Hailey Bieber. I don't write about the two of them that much, even though I read everything about them; my heart goes out to Justin for being damaged by getting so famous so young, but also, let's be honest: he seems like a douchebag! All the press on them seems icky, but they do court a great deal of media, so if I did not enjoy it would that somehow be letting P. Diddy win?!? Can't have that! 

Elsewhere among the tanned and chiseled, Sofia Vergara might be hooking up with Tom Brady? They've been becoming friendly on yachts this summer. This is a serious step down for Sofia, who only recently ended her marriage with the much-hotter Joe Manganiello. I think this is the problem with yachts—if there are only like 40 people on board, the most eligible bachelor might just be a weird friend of Donald Trump. It's beer goggles with sea legs. Beers legs. Sea goggles. You get it. 

Quick Trash!

Trash Pandas, there was simply too much to catch up on so I've gotta be brief about some stuff I've been obsessed with:

ScarJo just became Hollywood's highest-grossing actor. Does winning at the exploitative system of capitalism count as girlbossing? Am I happy or mad? Does one always eat the rich, even when the rich in question is a woman breaking barriers?!?!??!?? (LOL, yes.) That said, I have no interest in watching the new Jurassic World movie. I will watch it, obviously, but I have no interest in it.

In other movie news, former Superman Dean Cain criticized the new Superman movie for being "woke" despite not having seen it. The point is: in all the coverage of the new Superman, they keep mentioning the director James Gunn, and I always read it as Tim Gunn and then I am sad it's not actually him, because you know that Tim Gunn would make the best Superman movie ever. It would be such a tasteful cape. 

A bunch of celebs have been seen at Wimbledon. What is it about becoming rich that makes normal-seeming people want to ride boats and watch tennis? I would never. (Or maybe I would. Quick, give me several million dollars so we can find out!) Hugh Grant was photographed having fallen asleep in the crowd. This is relatable because tennis is so boring but like, dude, nobody made you go. You could be napping while sitting up at home like a normal man in his 60s. 

In other old man news, Brad Pitt is doing major press for his new F1 movie about cars, trying his damnedest to make people forget that he assaulted his wife and children on a private plane just a few years ago. This calls to mind the legendary and iconic lyricism of one Shania Twain, who once famously asked: "so you got a car?" and "so you're Brad Pitt?" and then answered herself with —all together babes—"THAT DON'T IMPRESS-A ME MUCH." 

And in other movie news, I recently power-watched The Studio and if you are a movie lover, you have to watch it, and I recommend watching it with another person. My partner and I drove each other crazy with the excessive niche film trivia we both carry, but that in no way overlaps. For example, my partner pointed out a scene that referenced Chinatown, and then I let him know they were pronouncing Josh Duhamel wrong. Which Josh Duhamel also noticed, so it seems I have won??

Local Trash

This very delightful news outlet is turning 25 this summer! Holy moly. So, if I am now the age that I am, and I started writing for this rag at a much different age, does that mean that 14 years have passed and I've written for this paper for over half of its existence? Great news: I have a liberal arts degree, this math is too complex, so I am still young and nobody can prove otherwise.

In closing, should I have bought this shirt on my trip? 

It might help if I explain why it's funny: This shirt attempts to subvert the plain language of the Second Amendment "right to bear arms" by giving guns to literal bears; the joke is that that's not what the founders meant at all! The shirt assumes that you know what they meant by "arms" but not what they meant by "bear" when in fact the usage of both words is equally antiquated. Therefore, what would have been funnier would have been a bunch of bear arms—like, the arm part of a bear—on a shirt that said "the right to bear arms—Alaska." Right? Anyway, people love me at parties—come to the Mercury's anniversary party to see for yourself! 

Explanatorily,