A Little of the Old In and Out



Above: "Coldslaw"? That aint motherfucking gangsta. A Royale with Cheese, maybe. With hot sauce. Can't forget the hot sauce.

In: Fitty Cent Versus Sam Jackson. Quien es mas macho? Both are pretty tough hombres: Fitty Cent has been shot, like, 9 fucking times; Samuel L. Jackson was dragged by a New York A train the length of the tunnel. On that basis, one might lean in the direction of the rapper (Do so at your peril and with Kevlar body armor). Then again, Fitty's bitchtastic tour rider is a mitigating factor, demand, among other unthuggish fare as: turkey sausage, "soft toilet paper," and (sic) "coldslaw." (Averted Gaze)

Ben Widdicombe's Gatecrasher stokes the fires of this slow simmering inter-generational feud. We like where it is going; some African-American organization is due for some fat checks and a very PR sexy session of make-up heavy petting between these two, in a few weeks, after all the passion and ego is spent. The Corsair suggests a Jackson-Fitty rapprochement at the Dance Theater of Harlem. Sam Jackson starts in on Fitty:

"'I have had conflicts with people in the music business because I'm not going to prop some rapper up in some movie,' Jackson told The News' Robert Dominguez. 'I'd love to work with Jim [Sheridan], but I wouldn't prop 50 Cent up.'

Mm-hmm, 50 responds:

"'Saying he wouldn't work with a rapper is like saying he wouldn't work with Will Smith, Queen Latifah or Ice Cube.

"'Basically, he didn't want to play second fiddle. He knew that because of my success, people would come to see the movie because of me - and he couldn't handle that,' he told London's Daily Mirror.

"'To be honest, I couldn't see where he would fit into the movie, anyway - other than as my grandfather.'"

Oh no he didn't. Next: Sam Jackson quotes, menacingly, Ezekiel 25:17.

Out: Congress. Look, does The Corsair agree that Mrs. Schiavo's feeding tube should probably be restored? Yes. That's my personal belief.

Does The Corsair believe that DNC Chair, Howard Dean -- a doctor -- and Hillary Clinton, who is notoriously courting Joe and Jane NASCAR, should be on the right side, aggressively, of this issue. Waiting, plotting, Machiavellian-like on the positioning risks appearing neutral, thus dooming the party in the red-states being labeled as "the party of death," just in fucking time for the 2006 Congressional elections?

This underscores the importance (sorry to be a downer here, guys) of either having a living will, or letting your loved ones -- plural -- know your plans.

But what the fuck was up with Congress this week? They were all up in everyone's personal space. First, steroids, now this judicial issue down in Florida. Will Congress next pass legislation that The Corsair should not have consumed that fifth glass of Armagnac last night? Will Congress next vote cenure on that girl The Corsair was hitting on at the bar? WTF?! Congress has better things to do than to subvert the separation of powers for lowball demogoguery aimed after the already over-emotional religious conservatives.

By all means, if one, religious or otherwise, disagrees with the judge's verdict, that citizen should protest. But not to Congress. It is not the place of Congress to get involved in clearly Judicial matters. Take it to the Supreme Court. Rally, do whatever the fuck religious freaks do, but leave the local Congressman out of the mix. The only purpose of such meddling of Congress is to play the political cards game, with cards dealt from the bottom of the deck.

In: La.com. The LA.com blog has what can only be construed as the most "busted" looking image of the judgmental Melissa Rivers. We have no common ton the outfit. But you might want to comment here.

Out: Anna Wintour. In our latest installment of AnnaWatch, Page Six notes, "ANNA Wintour in a fur scarf and her ubiquitous black glasses flying first class from N.Y. to L.A. while daughter Bea was in the last seat of coach." Oh, Anna, how could you to your own progeny?

But the LA trip was not so fruitful, according to Fashionweek, re: The Marc Jacobs party:

"Anna Wintour arrived with boyfriend Shelby Bryan and daughter Bea Schaffer. When Wintour showed up at around 9:30pm, the crowd pushing to get in had swelled so large that The Queen of Vogue had to wait a few minutes before being ushered inside. Richie Rich, Traver Rains, and Aimee Phillips saw that the velvet ropes weren?t parting instantly for Wintour, and the Heatherette trio decided to bail."

Fucking Richie Rich, knowing when the time is ripe. That bastards got some moves.