(image via boxofficemojo)
Leonardo DiCaprio is not an ass (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment). Although sometimes he can come off as vaguely ass-ish (The Corsair pops a bottle of 1787 Chateau d'Yquem).
When not blasting thoroughly yummy Israeli models (Rowr), and making socially important documentaries on the planet's ecological condition, Leo -- and we feel we can call him that -- likes to threaten unruly ruffians with a little ass kicking.
Of course, that's only if his "Pussy Posse" is there to back him up.
From our favorite superhero gossip duo Rush and Molloy:
"Leonardo DiCaprio had the back of club promoter Danny A Sunday night at Upstairs. 'Danny was getting into an altercation by the bar with a regular patron,' says our witness. '[Leo] jumped up from his seat and stood right behind [Danny]. He was just glaring at this guy over Danny's shoulder, with his posse behind him.' The loud patron quickly quieted down."
Altogether now: Thank you "Pussy Posse."
Granted, DiCaprio's freakishly dead-on impression of a retarded man-boy in the underregarded "What's Eating Gilbert Grape" is a remarkable chestnut that must be revisited often to truly drink-in DiCaprio's Scorpionic talent at inhabiting the outer limits of humanity's fringe.
The freak.
Still (The Corsair ignites a Macanudo, chuckling laconically), we think the whole movie-stardom combined with the positively super-fucky girlfriend (Rowr) conspires to tangle up Leo's mane with an overabundance of pride. Ergo: Leo's getting assy.
To wit, we counsel: desist, Leo ... desist.
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