Ahr, that she blows: yo ho ho and a bottle of rum. It is year's end 2007, which means -- that's right kids -- it's time to give out The 5th annual Pirates for the year's dubious pop-culture and high cultural achievements. Things will be moving quickly from here on out:
Troblemaker of the Year Pirate -- cue: sultry Amy Winehouse soundtrack -- goes to ... Maureen Dowd. Who would have thought that our favorite pedantic Shakespeare-quoting OpEd journo with the vaguely sexy 1950s aestetics could cause what can only be construed as a "human cock-fight" between two sitting United States Senators, a former President, a music industry billionaire who looks not unlike Don Cheadle and a partridge in a pair tree? MoDowd, that's who. From The Corsair in March (and from The NYTimes Op-Ed):
"'Channeling Ingrid, I press on and say: 'I know (Senator Barack Obama wants) to run a high-minded campaign, but do you worry that you might be putting yourself on a pedestal too much? Because people also want to see you mix it up a little. That’s how they judge how you’d be with Putin.'"
"Not people, Maureen Dowd. You. We couldn't care less about this human cockfight you are angling after, just that it soils the Op-Ed page of a respectable paper.
"Behind the baby doll voice, the copper top, the demure smile and 50s movie-speak lies a world class Instigator with a heart of stone."
...Brought to you by The Weinsteins ...
The Pimping Miss Piggy Award Goes To: Harvey Weinstein. We wrote: "Sweaty, sausage-fingered barbarian Harvey Weinstein (Ee-e-w), whose oily yet adamantine grip on American culture runs the gamut from greenlighting the astonishingly intense My Left Foot, to, in his present multimedia incarnation, a home video distribution deal with Sesame-goddam-Street. Mama says wha-a-t?!"
Baby Thug Mogul-In-Heat Award: Russell Simmons. Immediately following his public separation from his loudmouth wife Kimora(Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment), Russell "Anemic Looking" Simmons went on the prowl like an iron-poor-blood premie baby on the hunt for some strained pears. It was sad. We wrote: "Russell Simmons is in heat (The Corsair stifles a quiet yet dignified dry heave). Newly freed from the adamantine chains of marriage to that obnoxiously materialistic dingbat Kimora Lee Simmons (The Corsair makes a Dismissive gesture), his unfettered Metrosexuality (Eew) is in Full Flower under the fetid hothouse canopy of The Tents (The Corsair sips Muller Catoir Gimmeldinger Schlosse). In the moist darkness that lies therein, Russell's blooming like a mushroom (Eew) To wit, 'The Mating Rituals of Russell Simmons'. From Radar:
"'"Australian model Miranda Kerr has earned herself a few famous fans. At the Betsey Johnson show on Tuesday, the 23-year-old Victoria's Secret babe traded in her wings to open 'the Betsey Johnson School of Charm' collection, earning her a big grin from model-loving hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons.
"'As Kerr reached Simmons's front-row perch, the Phat Farm chief proceeded to fan her with his hat, provoking a show of dimples and a serious blush from Kerr, a Serbian-Turkish-Philippino sylph who has a whiff of Kimora about her. After the show, Simmons was heard boasting into his cell phone, 'I'm sure she saw me!'"
"That's one of the signs of Russell being in unmitigated heat (Eew). His 'sex' forces him to speak into his cell phone loudly."
The Even A Broken Clock Is Right Two Times A Day Pirate Goes to ... Dick Morris. Yes, he's a sleazy punk-ass political operative that is slowly eating away at the underpinnings of this Democratic-epublic; yes, he reminds us of a unnatural squid-human mating; and, yes, Morris' obsession with the Clintons probably has something to do with the fact that Bill Clinton physically kicked his ass six ways to Sunday. Dick, or, as we like to call him, "Dick" was actually right about Al Gore. He was righter than this blog, actually. We write: "Today we venture into the fevered, moist imaginings of Dick Morris (Eew). Look past the rather unremarkable-looking Virginia Call girl, and into the very shaft of 'Dick' (Eew), the Heart of Darkness ('Mistah Kurtz, he dead!'). Of course, this blog post has to do -- tangentially, at least -- with Billary, although the prinipal subject is Al Gore. From TheHill Blog:
"'Al Gore could have run in 2008 and could have beaten Hillary. But he dithered so long and sent out such negative indicators that he has blown his opportunity. Barack Obama, catching on in the polls and closing the gap with Hillary to single digits, has, quite simply, sucked all the oxygen from the room."
The Bitchface Pirate Award (see above). Damn, brother: Did it hurt? What does it ... feel like to have a .. bitchface?(image via thesun)
The Swag Hag Award Goes To Eva Longwhoria. With millions of dollars in endorsements, a hit tv show, an eccentric -- but profitable -- marriage, does Eva really need to whore-d swag free shit like Mickey Rourke at a botox party? It's just crass. Eva Longoria is like school on Saturday ...(Honorable mention: Winona Rider and Terry Hatcher)
(image via nypost)
Phony Of The Year: Bear Grylls. As Holden Caufield would say, with a melancholy, Charlie Brownish air of sadness: Phony. Remember, dear reader, when it was all about The Bear? What made anyone think that a graduate of Eton and Oxford had an ounce of grit? We said: "We must admit that Bear Grylls is one entertaining motherfucker. Fer realsies (Averted Gaze)! He amuses us greatly (The Corsair sips a Zinfandel Sonoma County Reserve 1997), what with his eating a dead, rotting zebra carcass and coughing up 'the icky bits (The Corsair softly chuckles).' Watching Bear reminds us of a primordial age in remote antiquity where a robust and manly survivalism was more societally important than Oprah.
"The pendulum swings (The Corsair ignites a La Paloma Vintage Reserva Cigar). My good man is a fraud, operating wholly without class (Averted Gaze)."
(image via theobserver)
Clubhouse of the Year: The Waverly Inn. Fuck it; we give. Graydo's Waverly inn is hott. HBO's Stephanie Burton emailed The Corsair earlier this year, "I’m telling you: Screw Michael’s for lunch. Waverly Inn is the new jamboree for dinner. We should start a Waverly Inn Count-Up. I can’t believe the stuff I see going on in there on a regular basis." And so, we blogged: "All-too-Canadian editor E. Graydon Carter always struck The Corsair as a 'clubby' sort of chap (Said with an air of restrained laughter). How else could he wear his hair the way he wears his hair without the clubby trappings of the fortress-like walls of Conde Nast, a buffer zone between Graydon Carter -- or, "E!" as we like to call him at Corsair HQ -- and the ruthless atomic-wedgie givers of the world (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment).
(From Observer)"... "'Even before we started Spy, he’s always wanted to start a clubhouse,' said Mr. Carter’s friend and co-founder at Spy magazine, Kurt Andersen. 'We’d be walking around Time Square, and he’d look up at different buildings and say, ‘Well, that could be a clubhouse there, and that could be clubhouse there.’"
The Sir Edmund Hillary of Social Climbers Pirate Goes to ... (see above; no further comment; image via nysocialdiary)
The Ken Auletta Open Invitational "Mantan" Award Goes To Danny Deutch. Oily, hyper-aggressive New York adman Danny Deutch -- or, as we like to call him "Douche" -- gets extra nut-brown points awarded for the novel "date-clad-in-canary-yellow-to-provide-contrast" maneuver. Do. Your. thing. Danny (Averted Gaze).
The Cliiimb Eevry Mountaaain Award Goes To: Charlie Rose. (so many miles to go before Charlie Rose sleeps; image via nysocialdiary)
Tune in tomorrow for Part II of The Year End Pirates Awards ...
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