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Kill Whitey

Jack White has lost his mind -- and good taste.


Ever since the White Stripes emerged from the Detroit rock underground in 2001, Jack White has been offering a cautionary lesson. Call it: What Not to Do if You're a Rust-Belt Boy Who Gets Famous.

Rule No. 1: Pencil mustaches are for perverts, not rock stars (see Prince).

Rule No. 2: "Bloated Michael Jackson" is not a good look.

Rule No. 3: Being Johnny Depp's inspiration for Willy Wonka isn't a compliment, it's a warning sign.

Even Oasis' Noel Gallagher dissed White for looking like "Zorro on donuts." When a Gallagher brother says you look fucked up, you know you've got problems.

But it's not just White's ghoulish appearance that's tainting our love for his music. Since 2003, he's made headlines more for his C-list celebrity antics than his songs.

It started when he was arrested for punching out one of his friends, Jason Stollsteimer of the Von Bondies. Sure, Stollsteimer is a gravy-train-riding chode, but White's behavior was reminiscent of a Tommy Lee tantrum.

White took it a step further by dating that baby-sucking-on-a-lemon-looking bitch, Renée Zellweger. When she dumped him, he married a supermodel after knowing her for only one day.

They were wed in a canoe. By a shaman. In the Brazilian rain forest.

Helloooooo, crazy!

For those who think none of this matters because White's still cranking out good music, take a listen to his new band, the Raconteurs. It's Wings-era Paul McCartney, minus the good looks.

Meg, we feel for ya, sweetie.

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