A Little of the Old In and Out



Above: Michael Jackson a la Caravaggio. (image via Shieldsnet)

In: How Michael Jackson Beat It, Beat It. Friend of The Corsair blog, the esteemed Michael Musto (The Corsair bows and lowers his tricorn Pirate hat with a Spanish, spiral flourish) has done an impromptu story (The verdict is less than 24 hours old) for today's Village Voice which is, quite frankly, exceptional. Remember his Governor McGreevy political elegy piece, equally dashed off, and equally charming?

Musto is especially effective when he writes quickly, because it comes off conversationally -- an art form in which Musto is an acknowledged Master. Today the focus is: Michael Jackson (Who else?). On that subject Musto opines, artfully:

"If he weren't a frustrated ex-child star, Michael would not still be living out his youth, this time with more playmates and possibly fewer boundaries. If he weren't the King of Poppers, I mean Pop, he wouldn't be able to use his fame and wealth to lure kids into his multi-acre theme park estate and his bedroom. ('They followed me!' Michael always claims, as if they just showed up and invited themselves in.) And if he weren't a star, so many parents wouldn't be impressed enough to leave their misgivings (and children) at the door, especially since abuse whether real or imagined might always lead to attention and dollar signs.

"Celebrity got Michael Jackson into this unholy mess, and damned if it didn't help him get out of it too."

More Musto here.



(image via CBSNews)

Out: Vladimir Putin. What can one say about an ignorant, autocratic fucker like Vladimir Putin? We already know he is a pathetic leader and a thug. We already know that Putin is capable of saying some spectacularly stupid things (Remember when he confronted Bush at Bratislava Castle, hinting that the US government had a direct hand in the ouster of Dan Rather? WTF?!).

Putin has, quite frankly, turned the once proud Russia into a Chinese lackey. A military stooge for the mandarins of Beijing. The stupid bitch.

Is it any wonder that there is a touch of racism lurking beneath the sinister surface (link via Drudgereport) to add to all Putin's other charming, ahem, "qualities"? Says TheSun:

"RUSSIAN President Vladimir Putin sparked uproar yesterday by saying Africans had a history of CANNIBALISM.

"He lashed out at the continents past after being challenged about his human rights' record.

"In an astonishing outburst, Mr Putin said: 'We all know that African countries used to have a tradition of eating their own adversaries.

"''We dont have such a tradition or process or culture and I believe the comparison between Africa and Russia is not quite just.'"

Charmed, I'm sure. (Averted Gaze) First off, stupid ass, Africa is a continent, not a country, so, no, the comparisons are not quite just. Second (The Corsair rolls up his sleeves, in anticipation of a beating), if the "pony-boy" tyrant would stop imprisoning the press, or, at the very least, restrain the cannibalistic mafia in his country from executing journalists, then maybe -- just maybe, we venture -- he would get some accurate information regarding Africa. Fuck you very much, "Pooty-Poot."


In: A Chocolate Elton. The Corsair desires a "A Chocolate Elton," and, no, before scores of filthy, perverted emails start flying into my inbox (you should be ashamed), a chocolate Elton is not a sexual position. Freaks! A Chocolate Elton, rather, is wholesome, yummygoodness; at least that's what Focus PR sayeth:

"For the first time ever Madame Tussauds has teamed up with the nations favourite chocolate, Cadbury Dairy Milk, to create a celebrity figure made out of chocolate. Sir Elton John was voted as the nations favourite personality in a poll carried our earlier this year by Cadbury Dairy Milk.

"The chocolate Sir Elton John will be unveiled at Madame Tussauds, London on Tuesday 14 June as part of Cadbury Dairy Milk' Centenary celebrations. Sir Elton John' vital statistics: The figure is made from Cadbury Dairy Milk, making Elton edible! Until the unveiling, chocolate Elton will be kept at 20 degrees and is under constant surveillance in a specially built air-conditioned tent."

We'll bet it tastes bittersweet.

(image via cSpan.org)



Above: Nananana, nananana -- heyheyhey: Goodbye? (image via c-Span.org)

Out: Senator Robert Byrd. The Corsair has never liked Senator Byrd of West Virginia, although, quixotically, Barack Obama seems to believe that he has changed his sheets ... ehr, we mean "stripes." Byrd creeps from an era of horse drawn buggies, and minstrel shows, and though he hides it well, and is fine on the legislative side, the truth has a way of seeping out, occasionally. The Corsair just doesn't like Robert Byrd; he, quite frankly, creepeth us out. According to Dick Morris:

"Here's good news to the cause of good government. West Virginia Sen. Robert Byrd, styled by partisan Democrats as the 'conscience of the Senate' and by those who are less biased as the last troglodyte in the body, could be defeated in his bid for his umpteenth term in the Senate.

"He's up for election in 2006, and the latest polling in West Virginia indicates that an attack of sanity and judgment may, at last, be hitting an electorate that has routinely elected the 87-year-old Byrd to the Senate eight times with never less than 59 percent of the vote. A survey by RMS Strategies, a West Virginia firm, shows Byrd barely ahead of Republican Rep. Shelley Moore Capito, 46-43 percent.

"Byrd, who still boats a 62-28 favorable-unfavorable ratio, may have met his match and master in Capito, who has a statewide rating of 57-35.While the West Virginia electorate remains 56-32 Democrat over Republican, it is also conservative as opposed to liberal by 67-30. (The survey likely includes moderates among the 42 percent who style themselves 'somewhat conservative.') Nevertheless, West Virginia went for President Bush by 56-43 in 2004 and 52-46 in 2000, and voters who back the GOP nationally are getting less and less forgiving of their Democratic representatives and senators in Congress."

A move as savvy as Glen Basner to The Weinstein Company would be for Bobby Byrd flying the coop and retiring before forcible removal.



Above: The Earl of Dartmouth and Sharon Handler (image via NYSocialDiary)

In: NySocialDiary in London. Our favorite social chronicler, David Patrick Columbia, is in London, and we have been fascinated by his sociological accounts of the nightlife of that species across the pond:

"At about 7 o�?clock I took a taxi over to the house of the Earl of Dartmouth who was holding a cocktail and buffet reception for Ambassador Loeb. Drinks were called for seven with dinner at 8:30. By the time I got there about seven-fifteen there were many in the receiving line just inside the front door. Waiters in white jackets were holding trays of water, orange juice or white wine for the taking.

"... About eight-thirty, someone announced the buffet was ready. There was couscous, sliced beef, salad, cold poached salmon, bread and biscuits. I took my plate and went up the stairs to another room where there were several tables and chairs set up. I sat with Sharon (Lady Sondes), who is a cousin of the guest of honor (her mother was a Lehman), and Geoffrey Thomas, Raul Suarez, Joanne Herring from Texas, and Kooki Fallah, an Englishwoman I met years ago when she'd come to New York to stay with our mutual friend the late Judy Green. Kooki has a relatively new business here in London teaching people how to play bridge."

There are just so many angles to which we could riff on that last sentence, but we'll leave Kooki alone because it would just be too easy and where's the sport.



Out: Madonna's Scent. We have often wondered what Madonna's scent might be like. According to fashionweekdaily, the answers may come sooner than later:

"She may drink only Kabbalah water, but when it comes to her scent, Madonna seems to prefer the smell of herself, thank you very much. The Daily has learned that the Material Girl is close to signing a fragrance deal of her own, rumored to be with fragrance giant Coty Inc. The deal, according to a beauty executive familiar with the specifics terms, has Madonna being paid a cool $15 million to have her scent bottled."

Pardon, but: Did they just say "Coty"? As in, "Coty, Wild Musk"? That's the scent that used to advertise on The WWF when The Corsair was but a wee, young pirate.

The memory brings us back to a happy place. Hulk Hogan has defeated the latest anti-American menace, using, without fail, the "leg drop." A thick-necked Vincent McMahon has called all the action, stiffly. The unwashed masses are screaming in the cheap seats. Duracell batteries are thrown from the rafters. And a doe-eyed man dubiously called "Lord Alfred Hayes" -- although, we are sure, in retrospect and in our present wisdom, that there was no such nobility in his blood -- cuts "a promo," for:

"Coty, Wild Musk." How many pre-adolescent girls received a bottle of that Wildebeast-on-the-Serhenghetti-smelling swill for Valentine's Day because of Lord Alfred. We will never know.