2005 Year End Pirate Awards, Part Deux

(If you haven't checked it out, Part I here)



(image via piratehaus)

And now to finish things up with The Corsair "Pirate Awards." The final installment of this year in bitchery:



Pussy power. (image via seventhirty)

Best Kiss and Tell: Superhead's Memoir. Karrine "Superhead" Steffans; we have to crack a smileand stifle a crisp chuckle even while saying it out loud. She was, until this year, the best kept secret in the recording industry; blowing -- on the DL -- such industry heavyweights as Fred Durst. (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) What is even more amusing is saying "Superhead, New York Times bestselling author." (Averted Gaze) We said: "The Corsair has been following the torrid media advance of Karrine Steffans, AKA 'Superhead,' with a certain suave mischiviousness. Today, our favorite superhero gossip duo, Rush and Molloy excerpt some of the choicer morsels of her sex life pre-Bill Maher (Eew), who, BTW, prefers 'dark meat' in his chickenheads a l'orange:'After inviting her to his home at 4 a.m., Sean (P. Diddy) Combs kicked his manservant Fonzworth Bentley out of a guest bedroom so he and Steffans could spend 15 minutes making love. 'You're one of the best,' she says P. Diddy told her. Steffans writes: 'I said the same to him, when, in actuality, he was average.' Ouch."

15 minutes making love? 15 minutes doesn't even make a decent blog post.



Oops! You got caught, now, didn't you. (image via sina)

The "Skank You Very Much" Pirate Goes to: Steven Segal. We said: "Apparently, bloated former action star and alleged CIA agent Steven Seagal smells like aromatherapy. See, we thought he smelled like an admixture of musky body odor and Hai Karate aftershave lotion. According to Lloyd Grove's Lowdown:

"Action actor Steven Seagal struck out with Playboy model-actress Christa Campbell when he allegedly auditioned her years ago. Campbell claims Seagal used a casting couch on the Warner Bros. lot. 'All of a sudden he reaches over and starts to massage my shoulders and starts hinting while he's rubbing me,' she tells Chaunce Hayden of Steppin' Out mag."

"'He reeked of this aromatherapy oil! I wanted to gag! � So I freaked out and ran out of the room. He ran after me and begged me not to tell anybody. He said, Please don't tell anybody! Please don't tell anybody! � He thinks he's still the man, but he doesn't realize that he's fat and disgusting and he smells like aromatherapy.' Seagal's rep, who says the story's false and Seagal never heard of Campbell, retorted: 'Whoever this woman is, she's clearly using her foul mouth to get attention.'

"A similar story is told about former Playmate Jenny McCarthy by abstracts.net:'...A flustered McCarthy ... was driven to tears when the portly slimeball actor Steven Seagal attempted to get McCarthy to disrobe to prove she was worthy of the part he wanted her in with Under Siege 2. McCarthy angrily told him 'rent my [Playboy] video, you asshole!' and stormed off the set."

Charmed, I'm sure. (Averted Gaze)



The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter.

The Party of the Year Pirate Goes to Barry Diller. We said: "Oh, how we love our Page Sixxies, the clever guardians of the twin adamantine Gates of Fama and Fortuna, (The Corsair guillotines, then elegantly sparks up a Vegas Robaina Clasicos) who report so dutifully on what the elegant blogger James Wolcott called Graydo's Morton's bash, and, by implication, all Oscar bashes, namely "The Satyricon."

"Only, this particular Page Six Satyricon wasn't Vanity Fair's infamous prestige party, no, no, no, true believers -- VF's bash was so very "first room" -- rather, this one was hosted by the "Arbiter Eligentiae" of the American -- not Roman -- Empire, Our ... Barry Diller, joyful HomeShopping Network pagan that he is, spewing black "Pan passions." (The Corsair sips the black wine of Cahors, elixir of Popes) And what not:"OF all the Oscar parties, the best might be the lunch Barry Diller and Diane von Furstenberg threw the day before at their splendid estate in Coldwater Canyon. It was the ultimate mix of east and west, with guests lounging on Persian carpets and pillows arranged on a sunswept lawn, devouring roast duck, sausages and pasta."

"Persian carpets? Sausages and roast duck? Did boys from Alexandria "pour snow water on the hands" of the guests? Such Imperial Overreaching Excess asks -- no, demands -- to be roasted on a "bonfire of the humanities," so to speak; and who, my dear readers, is more qualified that I, The Corsair, to have at such a lush and fertile target with my snarky abandon?Having said that, We cannot fail to note here the passing resemblance of Diller's fete to our favorite scene from our favorite Ancient novel -- the first Western novel ever, in fact -- you guessed it, Petronius' "Satyricon," known to all Classical Greek Geeks like The Corsair as "Trimalcho Feast."Quien es mas macho? Whose bash was the more decadent, more redolent of the overripe aromas of the zenith of an arrogant Empire? Trimalchio or Diller?"

We'll go with The excellent Barry Diller. (More here)



In 2005 moviegoers bitchslapped slapped the simian halfsmirk off Michael Bay's puss. (image via film.org)

Best Consumer Bitchslap Goes to: Michael Bay. Oh, how the arrogant have fallen. Once upon a time Hollywood could pawn shit off to consumers if they put enough marketing behind it. Then came "Pearl Harbor," and then came "The Island." We said: "Let's face it, movie blockbusters just haven't been the same since that fluffy director with the oh-so-studied studied half-smirk on his face, Michael Bay foisted Pearl Harbor on an unsuspecting moviegoing public, thus forever fucking up the summer blockbuster mojo started, honorably, by Spielberg's Jaws in 1975.Hoo boy, that film stunk.Note to Michael Bay: Ben Affleck is a cinematic jinx (And, what's more, extremely "unprofessional")! Ben Affleck couldn't act his way out of a bad hair weave! Allegedly.Michael Bay may have, with the release of Pear Harbor (Averted Gaze), surpassed that infamous Japanese launch in raw film bombage.Still, his new summer movie, The Island, will most probably claim ownership the box office this weekend before word-of-mouth kills it like a dirty yellow dog. Ewan McGregor plus expert social climber Scarlett Johansson plus some big ole "Michael Bay Explosions" (tm) equals "summer fun," if you go in for that sort of thing (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment).



(Koons via thinkquest)

The "Perhaps That's Why Dad Shot Bubbles" Pirate Goes to: Jacko. And we thought Joe Jackson gunned down Bubbles, brutally, for humping his bleached freak of a son. Quite the contrary. We said: "Maureen 'Mo Money' Orth gives us a highly idiosyncratic exposition of the Jacko trial at VanityFair.com, along with the requisite graphic representation of Simian bowel evacuation:'I have been chronicling Jackson's downward spiral for 12 years and have sat in the courtroom for most of the trial. Even though the case is constantly in the press even re-enacted daily on E! Entertainment Television there are sinister parts of it that were designed to influence the jury without their knowledge. A host of sleazy characters have surrounded the tarnished icon, and his world is full of dark undercurrents. We saw 135 witnesses from stand-up comics to a maid who had to scrub the feces of Bubbles, the pet chimpanzee, off Jackson's bedroom walls.'"

TMI, Maureen Orth; TMI!



(image via msn)

Best Colonic Story Pirate: Usher. We said: "One of the best interviews we've ever read concerning Usher is in the Complex December/January issue on sale now. Here's a taste:"Complex: I heard you get a monthly colonic to clean out your colon. Is that true?

"Usher: Nah man. I mean yeah ..."

"As you can see, we're off to a rocking start. Break it down for us, Ush:

"Usher: ... I had a colonic before but not no shit like that. Not no monthly thing. Hell no. Someone who travels alot like I do, while you're on the road, flying over to Africa and eating meats in certain places, you don't always eat the way you should and a lot of waste builds up in your body. That's why I did it."

"Hm. We sense shame. Why is Ush veering into the second person? "While you're on the road," and, "a lot of waste builds up in your body." What goes on in Africa stays in Africa, Ush.

"Complex: Doesn't that procedure involve having a tube inserted into your rectum? It all sounds pretty painful, brother."

"Usher: It aint no shit you're gonna be proud of, I'll tell you that."

(A considerable pause)



(image via shabakatvoltaire)

Best Shawshank Redemtion Moment: Judith Miller in the Big House. We said: "Taking one for the team and going to jail to protect the identity of a source isn't intrinsically funny. Not in the least. But that doesn't stop us from trying. On the principle that the first rule of comedy is that nothing is off limits, this:Behind These Walls (Narrated in a whiny singsongy voice by Maureen Dowd)

"Narrator: She was smiling ... That's right. You know, that, that Judith smile of hers. She had it on her face right to the very end. Hell, if they didn't know it 'fore, they could tell right then that they weren't a-gonna beat her. That old Judith smile. Her first night in the joint, Judith Miller cost me two packs of cigarettes. She never made a sound.

"Next day. 'Fresh fish' line up:

"Guard: Any woman playing grabass or fightin' in the building spends a night in the box. Them clothes got laundry numbers on them. You remember your number and always wear the ones that has your number. Any woman forgets her number spends a night in the box. These here spoons you keep with you. Any woman loses her spoon spends a night in ...

"Judith: ...the box.

"Guard: I hope you ain't going to be a hard case.

"Judith: [Smiles, shakes head] .

More here.



(image via art.com)

The Racially Ambiguous Pirate: Vin Diesel. Hand down. We know that he heroically came to the aid of Kirstie Alley, pre-Trimspa (His PR people are, at the very least, quite swift). But we still have no fucking idea what his ethnicity is (Italian? African-American?). Perhaps that racial ambiguity aids his box office, we say, cynically. We also said: "After Janice Dickinson's allegations that Vin Diesel is a wet, sloppy kisser (eew), we thought we had heard it all about things Dieselish. We're not against a spot of Californication, mind you, especially with reptilian ex-supermodels. But the racially ambiguous action star Vin Diesel is abusing his Actionstar(tm) priviledges, methinks.

"Oddly, Cin Adams gets this scoop. And here we thought she only hung out and ate cruddites with deposed Third World dictators and shit (Averted Gaze). That Cin, always with the surprise! According to Cindy Adams:'VIN DIESEL. Born in '67. Plays rough trade characters. Running hot. And off-screen, lives a young and hot badass lifestyle. Being he's New York-born, I'm not knocking him, understand, just commenting.

"'Take one recent affair at his nifty-looking L.A. home. Now maybe this is the norm and it happens at all his parties. Maybe this was the absolutely only one like this he's ever thrown. I don't know. I only know one of his guests told me about it."All women. Every guest, female. Every single, solitary person admitted was female. No guys � at all � except for his sumo-sized security guards.

"'A newie to the scene, there mostly because she'd heard about his house and wanted to see it, felt uncomfortable. She eyed what she thought were hookers. Not knowing what was coming down, she scooted early.As she left a guard smiled and said: 'Not your type party, right?'"

Nice. (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment)



Strangest Gift Pirate: Kimberly Stewart. What do you get for the boyfriend who has everything? We said: "The Corsair, like his magnificent blog wife, cannot quite grasp why Kimberly Stewart is famous. This little chestnut -- excuse the pun -- throws us even further into confusion. According to the 3AM Girls:'JACK Osbourne's taste in interior decor is a little too er.. personal to be stocked by the supermarket his mum Sharon so convincingly plugs.

"Gracing the teen's wall is a beautifully-framed pair of breast implants that Rod Stewart's daughter Kimberly recently had removed.

"And Kimberly even obliged Jack by signing them for him.Kimberly, 25, who says she had her boob job reversed over health fears, confessed: 'I gave Jack my implants and signed them. He framed them and put them on his wall which is where they are today.'"



(image via skynet)

Sexiest Policy Wonk: Bo Derek. We know that Jane Fonda tried to set her up with her ex, Ted Turner, but it didn't work out. Maybe she digs power over money? We said: "You laugh at the idea that Bo Derek, a woman primarily known for being at one point in time a 'Perfect 10,' with a cold, wet t-shirt action going on, might know the nuanced intricacies of defense policy and weapons systems, but it is true. The Corsair knows.

"We've seen her poring over Jane's Defense News briefs on her PDA. And, quite frankly, she's positively rhapsodic on the subject of CH-146 Griffon helicopters. According to our favorite social chronicler:

"'One of the most humorous sideshows was a table full of Washington insiders including the former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich and his wife Calista, Kennedy Center Life Trustee Kenneth Duberstein, Chief of Staff under President Ronald Reagan, and his wife Jackie who is a producer with Charlie Rose; Washington Post Roxanne Roberts; Barry and Tracey Mansaur from Chicago, and Mandy and Mary Ourisman.

"Mary, a recent presidential-appointed board member, just finished chairing a marathon 3-day Smithsonian event that began at the White House and ended with a black tie dinner at the new National Museum of the American Indian.'Off the record' comments dominated the conversation, but one 'on the record' remark that can be shared was 'I came because it's Sunday and I've already watched Desperate Housewives,' from a chuckling Newt. Do you think Laura Bush got the idea for her speech from him? After dinner, the guests filed into the Concert Hall.

"One could not help but observe the charming side of Defense Secretary Rumsfeld as he chatted with board member and actress Bo Derek. One can only imagine what they discussed."

A Corsair guestimation of the chatter:Bo Derek: Mr. Secretary, with landmines largely off the table, cluster munitions are widely considered to be the most threatening of the remaining ERW categories.

"Secretary Rumsfeld: Yes, the Mine Ban Treaty that arose from the Ottawa Process was quite effective.

"Bo Derek: Now that we are a world empire in a War on Terror, has the Department of Defense supplanted the number one cabinet position previously held by State? By that I mean, we needed a top diplomat-foreign minister when America was an emerging power, and most certainly during the Cold War against the Soviet Union where active military engagement would have meant the end of the world. But now that we bestride the globe as a colossal hegemon, doesn't the Department of Defense trump the olive branch wavers at Foggy Bottom?

"Secretary Rumsfeld: (Serious) That's a very, very astute question. Ask Colin Powell.(both chuckle darkly)

"Bo Derek: Have you read Rothkopf's 'Running The World'? I can't put it down. Last night I read until 5AM. He's definitely hiding his motives. It reads as an 'objective history of the National Security Council,' but -- really -- his biases in favor of Brent Scowcroft and the Internationalists over and against the neocons are there if you know how to look. Then again, you aren't really a neocon, are you Mr. Secretary. You are a Rumsfeldian.

"Secretary Rumsfeld: (Charmed, intrigued) Say, what are you affiliated with? Kissinger Associates? Rand Corporation?

"Bo Derek: Playboy."



The Golden couple, in better days. (image via allstarz)

Favorite Grifter Team: Liz Hurley and Hugh Grant. (Averted Gaze) When we think of Hugh Grant and Liz Hurley we cannot help but remember their arrival on the Hollywood scene during the first Clinton Administration. They were so charming. (Wistful) They sounded like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. He was every director's first choice for the guy-that-the-heroine-gets at the end of the perfect Romantic movie; she busied herself with something called Simian Films.

Then something happened. Things got "seedy." There was an inconvenient hooker involved. Something about a blowjob. Then the succession of stinkers (Making Brendan Frasier the lead actor is never an inspired film choice). Then the breakup. And now, both are in a 180 degree career turns -- the charming Hollywood via Oxford couple have become naught less than high-end whores: She, with millionaire Arun Nayar; he, kept by heiress Jemima Khan. (The Corsair sips an unassuming Montrachet) Granted, being a Hollywood star means, to a degree, engaging in the oldest profession, but that's only when the film is released. Liz and Hugh have gone "Pro" full-time.



(image via nyu)

Best Memoir That Wasn't: Steve Florio. Remember the memoir that wasn't? Steve Florio almost -- almost -- blew the lid off the Gehry cafeteria at Conde Nast? We wrote: "Old soldiers never die, they live on to settle outstanding scores in their trashy memoirs. And in 25 years of publishing the glossiest of the glossies, a lot of enemies can be made by a former lieutenant of Candace Bushnell's 'Mr. Bozack' (winkwink). Although most of the power players involved in Steve Florio's 'memoir-cum-management treatise' (Machiavelli's Prince?) are no longer in power or, worse, are tending sheep in Vermont, it still supposedly sizzles ... somewhat. As much as can be expected, we suppose. (Averted Gaze)

"According to WWD (link via Poynter):'Steve Florio may not call the shots at Conde Nast anymore, but that doesn't mean he's out of ammunition. Clearly, he saved some choice volleys for his book, a memoir-cum-management treatise that draws heavily on his time running business operations first at GQ, then The New Yorker and, finally, across all of Conde Nast ...'... Judging from a pitch and excerpt obtained by WWD, one person who will not be eager to see the book hit shelves is Ron Galotti. In a chapter titled 'Managing Mr. Big,' Florio, now vice chairman, thoroughly disses his former underling � the subject of both his best and worst decisions at Conde Nast. Florio writes, 'The story of Ron Galotti is the story of how celebrity can ruin a perfectly good executive.' As publisher of Vogue (Florio's best decision), he says, Galotti was a brilliantly effective, if at times too aggressive, ad salesman. But after leaving in 1998 to start Talk with Tina Brown, 'Ron started believing his own bulls--t,' Florio writes. Hiring him back to be publisher of GQ in 2001 was 'the worst decision I ever made as president and ceo ... The magazine needed someone with a very steady hand, and Ron didn't have it anymore.'"

Then, just as quickly, Florio told whisky voiced Timesman David Carr he wasn't going to do it. But for a moment, just a moment, this past June: (sotto voce) It was sweet.



(image via feinstein.gov)

Greatest Question Pirate Goes to: 'Why Can't Washington Women Dress Like Women?' We have asked it in the quiet of our souls for years. Just because there is a proximity to power doesn't mean that women have to start dressing 24/7 like guys. Why the severe hair? Why the overreliance on power suits? Why the rigid demeanor? What happened to softness and curves? We said: "Washington, PJ O'Rourke once mused, is 'Hollywood for the ugly.' Zing. DC, by the way, is not unamused at said unkind remark, hosting, tongue in cheek (no pun intended), a contest for the 'Hottest U.S. Senator' (link via Wonkette). While we will remain silent on the quality of 'USDA prime beefs' among the men rattling sausage in our hallowed nation's capitol (Averted Gaze), DC is not without its share of 'saucy hotties' among the fairer sex.

"Think: Lynda Carter, AKA Wonder Woman.Why this conscious lack of chic -- especially among women -- in the capitol city of the world's greatest Empire? Even Rome had Livia Drusa Augusta, whom the aristocratic historian Tacitus regarded as something of a hot tomato (although, we imagine, not in that exact latinate). DC has a huge percentage of Southern debs, trophy wives, Hollywood starlets with a pet policy issue to foist and, of course, ambitious hotties-paiges on the rise.

"Even Alexandra Jacobs, in the New York Times Book Review, by way of a positive review, said of Jessica Cutler's The Washingtonienne, 'The chicks that flock to the seat of the federal government are generally in search of career advancement, not Christian Louboutin-clad fun. So perhaps the Beltway bunch should be grateful for this lewd, unpretentious valentine to their city.'

"Stephanie Mansfield of the Washington Post digresses from an article on Bo Derek's recent visit to DC to muse on the state of women's dress in the nation's capitol:'Now comes Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice.With her Oscar de la Renta scarlet silk gown, her knee-high boots and long jacket, her pastel Akris suits and jaunty flip, she's making women in Washington watch with a mixture of envy, awe and inspiration.'... Suddenly, people are asking: Why can't Washington women dress, well, more like women?"

An interesting question.



(image via probertencyclopedia)

Most Eccentric Eating Habit/Disorder Pirate Goes to Faye Dunaway. She dun-a-weighs her food. We snatched this fugitive bastard conversation between Alan Cummings and Jamie Kennedy from Hollywood Life Magazine. We said: "Jamie Kennedy: You know Faye (Dunaway)?

"Alan Cummings: I was once Faye's date to the Grammys. I've got such great Faye stories.

"JK: Oh, Faye's brilliant. I love that you went out with Faye. Did you guys make out?

"AC: No, she wouldn't put out.

"JK: (laughs)

"AC: I was going to do this play with her that didn't happen, but I went with her to the Grammy's and you know she does this thing where she weighs her food.

"JK: All the time! She's got this scale she puts her nuts in, she puts her tuna in ...

"AC: We went backstage and she's got these sandwiches and I saw her taking the filling out of the sandwiches, putting it in a paper napkin and I thought, 'Oh dear, what's happening?' So Eminem is coming out and Faye and I go back to our seats in the front row of the Grammy's and the cameras are swirling past us all the time and I hear '30 seconds to air' and I see Faye getting her scales out, taking the ham and cheese and starting to weigh it and I'm like, 'Oh my God, we're going to be on national live television and she's weighing sandwiches.' It's 10 seconds to air and Faye says to me, 'Is this weird?' I said 'I get it, but I think it could be perceived as weird.'"

Part II here.

More The Corsair here.