Russell Simmons is an Ass
(image via salon)
Have you ever listened to Russell Simmons on the cell phone? The Corsair has, unfortunately; it is not an enjoyable experience. He likes to walk around Vesey Street and sometimes Prince Street carrying on loud conversations shouting out boldface names of people and places as if he were suffering from an acute case of "A-List Tourettes". It is all so very ghetto, the way he carries it off while pretending to be oh-so-Yoga-spiritual.
Several years ago, in Tower Books/Videos on Lafayette in New York, Simmons looked through magazines and CD's while, obnoxiously, giving a running commentary to someone obviously important on the other line. The young Corsair was appalled. Simmons was loud, imperious, louche, and he definitely wanted everyone in the store to hear his conversation, which, if memory serves, went something like:
"BlahblahBlahblah ...ChristyTurlington ... blah .. Party... intheHamptons ...Soareyougonnabeat ... theTime Cafe?" Really and truly, it was pathetic. This was around the time of his notoriously stinky Notorious Magazine, which read like a giant ad for Phat Farm, and Simmons made a point of flipping through the pages and saying what was "hott."As he exited the store, he barked into the cell phone, "Okay, I'm leaving now, heading down Lafayette Street to Time ... meet you ..." And then he trailed off as the door closed behind him.
Everyone in that section of the store who had been listening gave each other the universal, unspoken, "The asshole is gone" nod. Plus ca change, plus c'est le meme chose. According to those intrepid Page Sixxies: "RUSSELL Simmons disrupting noshers trying to enjoy their Dreeson's donuts on Newtown Lane in East Hampton with a loud, half-hour cellphone tirade." Charmed, I'm sure.