A Little of the Old In and Out



(image via KeninSwitzerland)

In: Amon Versus Amon. Oh, it's on like Gray Poupon! According to our favorite crimefighting gossip duo, Rush and Molloy:

"When it comes to allegations of drink-throwing, hair-pulling, head-bashing and adultery, society divorces don't get much livelier than the case of Amon versus Amon.

"Maurice Amon is chairman of the SICPA Group, a 78-year-old Swiss firm whose specialized inks are used in 90% of the world's bank notes, including U.S. greenbacks.

"Maurice's wife, Roberta Amon, is fighting for her share of the money that money has brought them.

"Having divided their time between New York and Switzerland, Roberta wants their divorce heard in Manhattan Supreme Court, where she has accused Maurice of 'cruel and inhuman treatment.'"

Apparently, when not dividing their time between The Continent and New York City, Roberta has *allegedly* been concentrating on dividing Maurice's skull:

" ... Maurice told Southampton Police that, on July 15, 2004, at 5:40 a.m., Roberta woke him 'and began to hit, push and yell at me. She bit my shoulder ... [and] hit me on the head with a vase,' which required Maurice to have his head stitched closed at Southampton Hospital.

The old vase over the head, eh? Old School. It gets worse:

"Though Maurice did not press charges, he claims Roberta's temper flared again on Feb. 10, 2005, when she encountered him and (Maurice's alleged girlfriend) while they were lunching at the Eagle Club in the Swiss ski resort of Gstaad.

"Susanne told local police that, after berating her, Roberta 'grabbed my veal sausage' and 'threw hot wine at the table. ... Two waiters tried to restrain her.'"

What did the table do to her? The real "Swiss pimp move (TM)," however, would have been to mush the seared Muscovy Duck in Maurice's face a la Cagney's infamous "grapefruit massage." Anyway, full monte here.




(image via NYSocialDiary) R Couri Hay, exquisite phony, "Glad-handing," cell phoning.

Out: R Couri Hay. It appears our favorite social mountaineer, R Couri Hay has fallen off "Mount Basabe" (Averted Gaze) and is in for a "digital colonoscopy." Is Fabian Basabe "fingering" R Couri Hay? (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment). Really, it's not what you think. Apparently, the two were on the same page of the same "manual" (no pun intended, otherwise, of course, we would have gone in for "man-ual"), but not anymore. According to Lloyd Grove's Lowdown:

"... I'm told, Basabe is fingering the press-friendly Hay as the source of several damaging gossip items that were printed in other columns - notably a claim that Basabe was banned from the Bush White House after his notorious dirty-dancing escapade last year with presidential twin Barbara Bush."

Hmm. Grisly visual notwithstanding, Grove gets to the bottom (again, no pun intended) of this story, plumbing the depths (ehr), excavating this:

"... 'There's been no falling out. He's my friend, I like him very much,' Hay calmly told Lowdown, adding that he was never Basabe's publicist to begin with.

"'There's never been an arrangement beyond those two brief projects' - the modeling gig and the wedding party.

"But an hour later, Hay was agitated when he phoned back with Basabe also on the line.

"'This is outrageous that you allow a source to manipulate you!' Hay thundered. 'You're very lucky that we have enough respect to call you. You've got a source who's a liar! You have to go back to your source with a whip! You have to cut people like that off at the [private parts]!'

"Hay then pleaded: 'Fabian, tell him. Are we friends?'

"Basabe tersely complied. 'We're friends,' he said tonelessly, without elaboration."

If the whole "PR pitcher-catcher" dialectic can be characterized thusly. Full dreadful story here.



(Surprisingly sexy image of Sharon via The Mirror, from Basic Instinct 2)

In: Sharon Stone. Newly adopted parent Sharon Stone, who the British press inexplicably have nicknamed "Shazza," is in. According to the 3AM Girls:

"(Sharon Stone) already has a four-year-old son, Roan, whom she adopted with ex-husband Phil Bronstein, but last week she announced she had adopted another child, and named him - wait for it - Laird Vonne Stone.

"... Arriving at the press conference 45 minutes late, Shazza swept into the Nikki Club in the Carlton Hotel, declaring: 'I don't want to talk about my private life.'

"But in the same breath she said: "I couldn't imagine that life could get better after having the experience of being a mother to Roan.

"'Vonne was my aunt's name and is my second name,' she said, without explaining where she'd cobbled up 'Laird.'"

Out: Dick Tracy 2. We studiously avoided the first Dick Tracy, on the grounds that the Dick Tracy comic book franchise sucks ass. The Fantastic Four is more to our liking. Apparently, though, Warren Beatty is up for the sequel (link via Cinematical). Suuper. We are glad to see that Beatty's judgment since Ishtar and Town and Country is still in fine form.



Above: Evil media overlord Les Moonves and his best bot Julie Chen powernosh at the Four Seasons. (image via NYSocialDiary)

In: Philanthropy. The Corsair found this story especially uplifting. According to our favorite social chronicler, David Patrick Columbia in NYSocialDiary:

"Last night at The Four Seasons restaurant the Irvington Institute for Immunological Research held its annual Sunday night buffet dinner. More than 275 attended and they took in more than $400,000 for the Institute.

"Basically, the Institute is a world leader in the funding of basic research in immunology--the study of the body's defense system against disease.They support innovative scientific research that can lead to therapies and cures for AIDS, cancer, diabetes, lupus, and rheumatoid arthritis, and other serious conditions and diseases. Through Irvington's renowned Postdoctoral Fellowship Program, talented young investigators from the United States and around the world receive three years of funding to carry out research of their own design under the mentoring of senior scientists at leading universities and medical centers in the U.S."

Sounds goddamn good.



(image via PBS)

Out: Morley Safer. We do not fancy the rheumy-eyed 60 Minutes correspondent Morley Safer. Can we put him out to pasture already? Those who can't do "shock" (for further reference see: Madonna) Last night's bullshit meditation on the subject of bullshit did not further endear us to Old Morley's campaign. But --oh -- he looked so delighted at the prospect of saying "Bullshit" on camera. And while we do not begrudge the elderly their fun, the report, which extolled the virtues of the dubious pseudo-philosophical bestseller "On Bullshit," is truly astonishing in its exploration of the "thimble depths." (Averted Gaze)

The report begins by instantly "pooh-pooing" such "dreary" works as Kierkegaard's infinitely interesting Concept of Dread in favor of the controversial ("Conversational") bestseller. Who needs Kierkegaardian irony when one has Jon Stewart at the ready cracking wise on Ari Fleischer's bullshit spin. Oh, Ha-ha, Morley safer, ha-fucking-ha.

Morley Safer does so deeply aspire to be the "engager philosophe" of the cultural liberal elite. (The Corsair shoots a look of pure disgust) Safer stinks of the 92nd Street Y and Martha's Vinyard. Alas, Safer lacks the gift of taste, so necessary to become a distinctive cultural figure for the ages, like Montherlant or Mircea Eliade. Safer also lacks the powers of concentration necessary to taste's cultivation. And so, Safer champions naught else but utter shit, like, for example, the sloppy paintings of Botero, or the pretty but distinctly middlebrow opera of Renee Fleming.

To call Kierkegaard's works "dreary (however psychologically dark and ground-of-being)," and, in its place, to champion the facile Harry G. Frankfurt?! (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) If Safer had a rigorous thought process, and not just raw cultural ambitions masquerading as passionate logical inquiry, he might have found that Kierkegaard actually approached the same subject, often, and in his examinations put Franfort's shit philosophy to shame. But ... no, Safer cannot be bothered to accumulate Kierkegaardian on such (Averted Gaze) "dreary" subjects.