Was Andy Kaufman's Death a Hoax?

The AP reports: "Andy Kaufman died of lung cancer on May 16, 1984, but according to legend, the eccentric comedian said if he were faking, he'd resurface 20 years later to the day.

"'So, just in case, a party is being planned by Bob Zmuda, Kaufman's best friend and partner, at the House of Blues in Los Angeles on May 16.


"'Over 100 personal ads will be taken out across the country and abroad, reminding him of his words. Will he show?' Zmuda asked on the Web site for Comic Relief, a series of shows that raise money for health care for the homeless. Zmuda founded Comic Relief after Kaufman's death.


"VIP tickets to the Andy Kaufman � Dead or Alive? tribute offer 'select seating and celebrity reception (hopefully with Andy).'"

Is this the second coming of Latke? Was Andy Kaufman's death a hoax?

Comments? Here or on VH1's Best Week Ever blog.

Are Checkoslovakian Faces "Complex"?

Fashionweekdaily has an interesting quote from 70s icon Karen Black regarding her face, a subject which, I, too, I must admit, have pondered with deep consideration:

"It�s very nice because it�s severe and I have naturally curly hair. I�m Checkoslovakian descent and I have a kind of complex face. So, I need very simple things to offset that. Tony Basil told me that. He said just wear very simple things because it�s very complicated from the neck up."

Karen Black's face has always kind of freaked me out, you know, kind of like that kid in the Total Eclipse of the Heart video with the glowing green eyes, y'know?

I was born in Uganda, and we are rather earnest from the neck up.

Oh, and speaking about Africans, is one of the most imteresting people in the world. Born in the early 1940s, T�t�-Michel Kpomassie, travelled from his home village in West Africa to Upernavik in northern Greenland. Why did a young tribesman decide to go to such an Arctic environment? Would I be lose all credibility with you at this point if I were to bring up Eternal Recurrence and Deja Vu with respect to how certain people seem driven by forces in their life choices that might have already occurred? Yeah? Okay, forget I said it.

Grouphug.us

Grouphug.us is the most fucked up yet fascinating look into the sepia-colored film Noirish David Lynchian heart that is Americana ... Americana horror, people. (looks around suspiciously, continues ...) Set up as a sort of confessional, with locked glass doors, we, the spectators confronting the spectacle, are allowed to pull up a front row center seat to watch the freak-of-the-week parade about their naughty bits. Some of it is touching, quite frankly, some of it is raw; some of it is brutal, but virtually all of it flouts the basic laws of grammar; here, my little soupbones, have yourselves a looksie:

"so i am really really really scared. My girlfriend is going to get sick she says in her mind schizophrenia she says she will kill herself before she gets too bad. but we are suppose to get married and have children. i know she doesn't really want too. she left me alone tonight.. she is sleeping on the futon. I don't smoke pot anymore because when she smokes pot she gets scary and crazy and i just look at her and cry because i am powerless because i love her so much."

(The Corsair pulls out a legal note pad and does a Dr. Melfi)

"... sometimes i get really confused and shit is crazy in my head fast and quiet a man and a womens voice. I have been told i feel too much. I cry a lot. I cry over the time that i am missing spending with my parents or i think of times that i am not going to be with my girlfriend i have also been told i have dyslexia probably my dad has it."

(The Corsair cocks an eyebrow, slowly puts down the legal pad, and gets into a sprinters position)

"um. i burn my arms. i don't know really why but i do
with steam and heated spoons. i put bandaides over them so people can see the bandaides. but i hide the scars."

(The Corsair shivers ... and bolts from the room to the accompanyment of Asia's Heat of the Moment)

I wonder if there have ever been studies about the statistical percentages of madness in a world empire, and whether or not the pathologies increase over time.

Will Blog Tomorrow

Still under the weather. Blogs resume tomorrow. Cheers, Ron

No blog posts today. Bad allergies and residual aftereffects of Cinquo de Mayo barfood. Yikes. Sorry.

Krucoff on the Quest 400

Just who, precisely are the Quest 400? They are the Masters of the Universe, my precious little soup bones. Walk down Fifth and the Upper Eighties on a Saturday Night and you will see the tribe in action. They are that tiny group of high society holdovers that parties on the Upper East Side. Sometimes, on Saturday nights, you can see them shuttling off to the benefits -- there: look at the man wearing a cape and sporting a cane, like Dracula. Now: think of dracula as metaphor.

Anyhoo: No longer do they tend to their rose gardens in Newport, Rhode Island. The ladies have little lap dogs instead of imperial colonies with brown people. The men are straight out of an Auchincloss novel. They sip Cutty Sark and cry real tears over the appalling state of their old prep schools (".. and, barmaid, *sob*, the old boys have made Latin an elective!"), or their sail boats. They frequent upscale bordello's after Michael's if they aren't already cheating with the illegal immigrant nanny. And to their cucumber-sandwich munching wives, those Rockefeller Republicans with the severe 1970s hair, the many facelifts, and the designer handbags, their dogeared copies of Debretts Peerage and Barontage ("Royalty is the ultimate reality, my dear") Cindy Adams can do no wrong. They make socially inappropriate comments mitigated by the fact that they are rich and don't really give a fuck that you might be offended by. Sometimes, they say, with the undigested cucumber sloshing about their botoxed lips -- sometimes a good right wing dictator really gets the trains running on time, Binky.

To be sure.

Krucoff crunches the numbers, god bless his snarky mathematical soul, and Gawker, for doing the math and putting it online. Where precisely did these Masters of the Universe make their fortunes? I'm saying.

The bad way. Media/ Publishing. Captains of Industry. Fashion.

And, surprisingly, one percent actually made it on the A-List through sports. Would I be cynical if I said those sports were more likely the ones with the little balls populated by white players? Yes, too cynical.

Bravo, Krucoff, bra-fucking-vo.

P Diddy and Lady Victoria Hervey: Just Friends

From Loaded, April 2004

"Loaded: is it true you had a fling with P Diddy?

Lady Victoria Hervey: Oh no, we're just friends. We met at the Monaco Grand Prix about three years ago and then hung out in Saint Tropez. I think we've done lots of summers of hanging out in the Mediterranean. He is seriously bling. I love that. He is such a fascinating guy. I just felt like I was in one of those little videos with the jacuzzi and stuff.

Loaded: So what are the parties like on his yacht?

LVH: I think he's probably the best party-thrower I know. Scantily clad on the boat, yeah. They're not debauched, it's very civilized."

A Little of the Old In and Out

In: Howard Stern was apparently invited to the National Press Club, according to Joe Hagan of The Observer. " ... In Washington, D.C., Mr. Stern has met with relative silence.

"Two weeks ago, the committee that runs the National Press Club in Washington voted down a proposal for Mr. Stern to appear as a guest speaker, according to two sources familiar with the situation."

Your loss, Press Club, that would have been a hell of a speech had he given it.

Out: The Smokinggun.com collects through the Freedom of Information Act some of the funniest letters to the FCC from Howard Stern listeners on the double standard of giving Oprah Winfrey a free ride. My favorite line, "Tell me, Mr. Powell, how do you explain the concept of a tossed salad to your kids?"

In: The feud between Catwoman, Julie Newmar and Jim Belushi, hero of the dumpy working man. Too Wong Foo, Julie Newmar: ka-pow!

While, personally, I'd rather devote the space to a dissection of the neoconservative hatred of the UN's origins in Security Council Resolution 3379, and how the disgusting Zionism-equals-racism pronouncement turned Israel forever against the possibility of working with the UN, alas, the thought of Julie Newmar and Jim Belushi mixing it up is too delish. That significant cultural artifact The National Enquirer tells writes that the two C-List neighbors are feuding. "On January 25, Newmar wrote to her local councilwoman, Cindy Miscikowski, complaining about the fence.

"In her letter, Newmar said, 'I live next door to a neighbor from hell . . .

"'I have called Police, Fire, Building and Safety Departments and other authorities on dozens of his prior law-breaking actions. It is exhausting and expensive.

"'Please help me. I need some peace.'"

In: Howard Dean is going to barnstorm the Deep South. Hmmm (a moments pause). Bad fucking idea, Keemo Sabe, let me count the ways. One, you are the poster boy of the Eastern seaboard Democrat. Two, they grow them big and mean and inbred in Mississippi. Three ... But I can't stop Dean, no one can -- he does what he feels is for the good. He's a Scorpio, dammit. Alexander Bolton of TheHill reports:

"'But whether they like it or not, Dean may be coming to a neighborhood near them.
Dean will announce the specifics of his planned tour through the South within �“the next couple of weeks,' said an aide.

�“'He has a number of states in mind,' said Walker Waugh, Dean�’s spokesman. 'He�’s talked about going to Mississippi, and he�’s talked about going to Alabama.'

"Dean also has told some Southern Democrats that he plans to travel to Texas and Louisiana as well."

(The Corsair shakes his head in disbelief and actual worry for Dean's physical safety)

Out: Prada is, I repeat, not going public. Don't believe the hype. Our pal Godfrey Deeny of Fashionwire reports:

"Prada has taken the unprecedented step of issuing a public statement denying a report in the Italian press that the firm will seek a public quotation later this year.

"'With regard to the news: in the Italian press, the Prada Group would like to clarify through its spokesman that while it can confirm the strong improvement in its financial figures, there are no plans for a public listing in 2004,' the Italian luxury specialist said in a statement."

So, now you know.

In: WHCD Bloomberg After party yearbook pictures. An implausibly raven-haired Wayne Newton searches anxiously for the Mark of the Beast on Henry Kissinger's forehead. Andrea Mitchell humors her incontinent, rich granpa. And, tv talking head John McLaughlin flosses his pimpy rings and tries to pull down another 'ho on the DC side with his own prat out technique. Pimp hard, John, cause pimping aint easy.

Out: Morrisey, cause Lindsay says so: "Morrissey's onstage banter bugged me. He kept handing the mic to some idiots in the front row who were talking about politics and Tony Blair and shit, and Morrissey was really cocky. When he first came on stage I thought to myself 'There is the man who got me through high school.' But after a while it occurred to me: 'The man who got me through high school is kind of a...dick.'"

In: Scott L's very smooth Stereogum gives us a high school pic of Fred Durst.Biscuiticuit looks primed for some serious geek love.

Out: Al Gore's purchase of NWI. Programming: 8-9 pm, Plants Making Oxygen: a documentary; 9-10, reruns of The Rockford Files; 11-12, reruns of Barnaby Jones ...

In: Jann Wenner, devoting $200,000 to Salon Media. I guess it is a better investment in securing the Dems in the White House than running a Rolling Stone cover photo of Al Gore with an airbrushed crotch.

Fuck Michael Eisner: Remember the Alamo

Karma is a bitch, and Michael Eisner is finding that out, the hard way. According to Page Six, Mel Gibson is being touted as a possible successor:

"A consortium of mysterious European investors has approached Gibson about a possible takeover of Disney now that Comcast has thrown in the towel, sources told PAGE SIX. 'We were very impressed with the way Gibson handled The Passion of the Christ, ' one insider said. The group was especially motivated after The Passion, made for $25 million, raked in almost $600 million. 'Gibson has the sensibilities Hollywood needs,' says a source close to the star. 'He has the right insight to lead a studio. Look at those numbers! Now, that is how to make movies - none of this $120 million nonsense.'"

Why not? Look at the leadership of Eisner of late: he tanked -- big time -- on Alamo. He has consciously, studiously even, made sure not to groom a successor. Eisner has quixotically tossed $8 million for Clive Barkers Abarat series (like money down the toilet, because, of course, kids dig Clive Barker stories). And his ego singlehandedly fucked up the Pixar relationship.

Last but not least, Jim Rutenberg of the Old Gray Lady reports that The Mouse House is blocking Michael Moore's latest film:

"Disney came under heavy criticism from conservatives last May after the disclosure that Miramax had agreed to finance the film when Icon Productions, Mel Gibson's company, backed out.

"Mr. Moore's agent, Ari Emanuel, said Michael D. Eisner, Disney's chief executive, asked him last spring to pull out of the deal with Miramax. Mr. Emanuel said Mr. Eisner expressed particular concern that it would endanger tax breaks Disney receives for its theme park, hotels and other ventures in Florida, where Mr. Bush's brother, Jeb, is governor.

"'Michael Eisner asked me not to sell this movie to Harvey Weinstein; that doesn't mean I listened to him,' Mr. Emanuel said. 'He definitely indicated there were tax incentives he was getting for the Disney corporation and that's why he didn't want me to sell it to Miramax. He didn't want a Disney company involved.'"

One can almost see the pathetic Eisner, manic, like an African dictator about to be ousted, drenched in sweat, trying to cling to power. "Gibson passed on the flic. Now Gibson wants my job. They all want my job (looks over his shoulder). I gotta back out. Gotta. And the taxes. I can blow $100 million on Alamo, $8 million on Abarat. but I need those Florida tax breaks ..."

It's over Michael ... it's over.

Whether they replace you with Steve Jobs or Gibson, it's over, Johnny.

Reichstag to Tom Cruise: Nein!

According to Ananova, via The Evening Standard, the German parliament nixed his bid to shoot some scenes for Mission Impossible 3 in the Reichstag:

"'The building is not available as a film location and we refuse point blank every request to use it as such,' said a spokesman for Parliament President Wolfgang Thierse.

"'It is about maintaining the dignity of the parliament.'"

Ladies and gentlemen, actual proof: The overcalculated, robot-like actor actually fails (and not in a Cocktail-like cheated on Elizabeth Shue on the islands, and now I gotta fly back to the states to win her heart kind of way).

A Picasso Record?

Maccers posted this story about the Picasso rose period painting "Garcon a la Pipe" poised to sell for $100 million. I go back and forth with Picasso.

What kind of a fish is a Picasso? Is Picasso a mighty trout navigating the breakers of the wine dark-sea of Art, or is he a minnow riding on the backs of more original Old Masters ("I collect Old Masters and Young Mistresses" --Nabokov, Ada).

Some days, when I look back at his blue period, suffused with carbolic and icy blues and haunting lunar El Greco lighting that fairly crackles and vibrates, I think: Goddamn, utter and complete genius. Picasso is the sum total of all that came before him.

And then, almost as often, the more and more one looks at his work, the more one sees how much he outright copied from other artists. He was an incredible thief. He stole so well and hid the booty in his own works, that his victims, the melancholy Spanish guitar of Juan Gris with the amber patina, the dispassionate dance hall gaze of Toulouse-Lautrec, Leger, Goya, Velasquez, Braques, El Greco, the unnamed West African mask makers, the Greek potters, have all become, in the fullness of time, his inferiors in the art world, subsumed to Picasso's superior plundering. His artistic borrowings were legendary -- he was a proto-postmodernist, in a way.

Does Picasso disappear in the absence of greater artistic lights; is Picasso like the moon, which shines only from the borrowed glory of the suns rays?

His line is confident, certainly (he could paint before he could talk), but is it worth 100 mil?

the anxiety of influence is particularly heavy with Picasso. Sometimes I even wonder just how original or even if Picasso was very original. The more I learn about art, the more pictures I catalogue in my mind, the more I see that a particularly clever idea, a witty or disturbing character, or use of color, in his paintings -- was borrowed. And, like an onion unraveling, one wonders, underneath it all is there anything of substance? Or is it all just smoke and mirrors and protective layering?

Perhaps he is not a fish at all, but the screaming, disruptive bull of Guernica slowly evolving into the priapic Minotaur as the 20th century unfolds, leaving weeping women in his wake, instead of bombed out Spanish villages.

The Modernists are strange that way. Their break with ancient and classical forms moves them closer to clever statements, or disposable pronouncements, rather than all-inclusive world philosophies. Compare Magritte to Velasquez, or Koons to Titian.

On matters of art (and education politics) I am quite conservative, and on everything else, an unashamed liberal. Then again, the moderns may have a point that art is better served as wit and disposable pronouncement if, indeed, there is no meaning to human existence. A conservative take on art is an anti-Nietzchean view that there are absolutes -- love, God, Buddha, the culture (Greekness, Maya, Nilotic) whatever. The Nietzcheans are all about pushing-the-limits. God is dead, has been for quite some time, really, so the form of Christ is not so much in the renaissance of debate, but form itself, say, in synthetic cubism, or the startlingly beautiful, if lifeless geometric compositions of Mondrian.

Whatever the case, the painting is clearly interesting:

"Charles Moffet, co-director of Impressionist and modern art at Sotheby's, said: 'It has a haunting ambiguity that has ensured its status as one of Picasso's most celebrated images of adolescent beauty.

"'It is, without question, one of the most beautiful of the artist's Rose Period paintings and one of the most important early works by Pablo Picasso.'"

"John Whitney, a former US ambassador to Britain, bought the painting in 1950 for $30,000.

" ... It is being sold by the Greentree Foundation, a philanthropic body founded by Mr Whitney's wife, Betsey, following the death of her husband in 1982."


If Byron was the first rock star, Picasso was the first international celebrity -- Madonna with talent. Is it worth $100 million? Fuck no. Give me a mysterious labyrinthine Mannerist any day of the week.

Now, back to gossip ("toss me in the shallow water before I get too ...")

Scarlett Johansson to Louis Vuitton

According to Fashionweekdaily, Scarlett Johnansson is to be the new face for Louis Vuitton:

"Two weeks ago, The Daily reported Scarlett Johansson had been tapped as one of the new faces of Louis Vuitton�s fall advertising campaign, photographed by Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott. Now The Daily has learned from an inside source that the 19-year-old Johansson will allegedly be paid $5.33 million to pose for the LVMH-owned luxury goods and clothing house, with the first images scheduled for August magazines. When reached for comment, a Louis Vuitton representative said the company could not confirm Johansson�s business matters. 'We expect to make an announcement by the end of next week,' the rep said. 'But I can�t comment now because the nature of celebrities can be very fickle.' A Vuitton insider commented that Johansson was picked after company executives wanted a younger name post-Jennifer Lopez. 'She�s young with classic look that hints at a bygone era,' the source said."

As opposed to JLo? ouch.

Isabella Rossellini had recent problems with age and fashion, says British vogue, "the raven-haired daughter of Ingrid Bergman, who has complained that she was ousted as the face of Lancome in 1994 because she was too old, laughs at the idea that she could ever turn back. 'I'm 52,' she told Women's Wear Daily. 'I don't think cosmetic companies have plans to come back to me. I'm available.'"

And Page Six noted yesterday that 60 year old former covergirl Lauren Hutton is enjoying life, and still looking grand, at 60, "Only a few years after a serious motorcycle accident, the seminal supermodel just returned from a month-long trip to Africa (her 28th visit) that included cliff-diving near Zanzibar and a safari in the Serengeti, where she tracked game on foot and shocked her guide by picking up a 6-foot boa constrictor."

Party on.

Jim Jamusch: "I Love Ghostface;" PLUS: RZA and His Colloidal Silver

From Filmmaker, Spring 2004:

Filmmaker: What about the Bill Murray piece (in Coffee and Cigarettes) -- how did that come about, the idea of him playing an actor on the lam as a waiter?

Jim Jarmusch: Oh, man, I don't know, because I wrote that one literally the day night before. I wanted to have RZA, GZA and Ghostface Killa from the Wu Tang. I love Ghostface and I thought he'd be a great actor to play with. And then I found out that Ghost was in Miami but GZA and RZA were definitely coming. So I called Bill and he's like, 'Jim, how long will this take?" 'One day.' 'Well, can we do it in half a day?' 'I'll try.' 'Oh, you'll try ... just tell me where to be, when to be there and what to wear.' Now, you can't give Bill's number to anyone on the crew -- his agent doesn't even have it. (On the day of the shoot) Bill walks right in, parked his own car and was there for the whole day, took RZA and GZA out to a Japanese restaurant for lunch. But I wrote that script real fast, and they followed it to a large degree. The thing about RZA being a doctor was a real funny thing.

Filmmaker: It was real?

Jarmusch: Yeah, one night I was with RZA in the studio and he gets a call from the wife of our friend Sifu Wahnam, the Shaolin Master. RZA is the god father of his kids. The kids are sick, its like 1:00 in the morning, and we go to their place. (Sifu's) wife Sophia's all freaked out -- one kid has a fever, one's sweating. And RZA's like, 'Okay, here's what you do, man. You take them off the dairy, you take them off the citrus, you give them this mineral, you give them one aspirin each -- no more!-- one aspirin each and you call me in the morning.' We're leaving and I said, 'What the fuck, are you a doctor now or what?' And he's like, 'Hell ya! You know, I started reading that shit, I've been reading alternative medicine for three years. So I put that in the script ...

Okay, how much do you want to bet that that mineral is RZA and his crazy obsession with colloidal silver. I swear to god, RZA is going to turn half the population blue with this fixation!

New, daily posts of The Corsair here.

Mean Girls: Tina Fey vs. Last Call Girls

Girls are mean. And Tina Fey should know. According to Star Magazine, there is a catfight going on at NBC. Tina gives NBC's lowgrade fare Last Call the icy grill:

"There seems to be a pissing contest at NBC -- literally -- between the female staffers at the show, Last Call with Carson Daly and the ladies at Saturday Night Live. Tina Fey, SNL's head writer and Weekend Update co-anchor, and the writer and co-star of the film Mean Girls, told Carson Daly on April 21 that the women at SNL have a problem sharing the bathrooms on 17th floor of New York City's famous Rockefeller Center with the Last Call women. The reason? The SNL ladies believe Carson's female employees urinate on the toilet seats!"

(The Corsair softly chuckles)

"Word leaked out the next day that the Last Call girls were upset by Fey's remarks so someone from SNL put up a sign in the ladies room that read, 'Tina says: If you sprinkle when you tinkle, please be neat and wipe the seat.' "

Questions:

1) Who knew Last Call was still on the air
2) Who leaked (excuse the pun) this information to the Star?
3) I just watched the SNL Tivo from last week, and isn't Amy Poehler's Avril Lavigne hysterical?

Anyhoo: check out Star for this story and other gossip.

Black Eyed Peasy: A VERY SPECIAL CORSAIR

According to that significant cultural artifact The National Enquirer, Ashton Kutscher tried to punk the band The Blackeyed Peas and he himself ... was Punk'd.

The Enquirer says:

"The practical joke started innocently enough with the Peas being invited to a party at a Hollywood Hills mansion.

"But when group members, with the offbeat names will.i.am, apl.de.ap and Taboo, arrived they saw couples retiring to bedrooms in the mansion.

"Just as the 'Punk'd' pranksters planned, the Peas and their entourage found themselves in the middle of a brothel party with high-priced call girls.

(The Corsair grabs a handful of salt-free popcorn, and becomes riveted to the screen)

"'Band member will.i.am was an accomplice in the prank,' said an eyewitness. 'But the rest of the band and their entourage became suspicious.'

"Just then a team of seven phony vice cops rushed in from all directions. Some of the band members tried to explain it was a big misunderstanding, but the Peas' pleas fell on deaf ears."

(The Corsair makes an inaudible whistle)

" ... And then all hell broke lose."

(The Corsair jumps up and down shouting: 'It's on like Gray Poupon!')

""When one of the cops acted like he was going to slap the cuffs on will.i.am, one of his friends punched a cop in the jaw, which sent him flying backwards and into the pool," said the eyewitness.

"Then, the guy tackled another one of the prop-cops and they both went tumbling into the pool!"

"The 'Punk'd' crew members hurriedly tried to explain that it was just a joke -- but nobody was laughing.

"Usually at this point Ashton comes out of hiding and lets the celebrity in on the prank, but a spokesman said the actor was away on location for a movie.

"It's just as well. The Black Eyed Peas quickly left because tensions were so high, said the eyewitness.

"'If they had stayed, it probably would have led to a full-fledged brawl between the band and the Punk'd crew.'"

The Corsair is 'away on location for a shoot.'

A Little of the Old In and Out

In: This has got to be the whitest entry in David Patrick Columbia's Social Diary. Ever. Hilarious. Wake up, white people! (Ed note. We at The Corsair love to read our friend DP Columbia's NY Diary, but we wish our friend would do more non-Upper East Side events.)

Out: Senator Al Franken? (link via Wonkette) Sure, he's arrogant and geeky, but could he be the next Senator from the state of Minnesota? According to the USA Today:

"'I've thought about it and discussed it with my family more,' Franken told The Associated Press Saturday, before attending the annual White House Correspondents' Association dinner here. The only holdout, he said, is his 19-year-old son Joe, who is worried he'll see less of his father.

"Franken, over a bite at a Thai restaurant (he ordered tom yum goong soup with shrimp and seafood salad), also said he's happy with the direction of his new radio show, 'The O'Franken Factor,' despite unenthusiastic early reviews."

Well, if I may shed the fedora natural to a snarky blogger covering the LA-NY-DC power circuit for a moment, and only a moment, and don the Darth Vaderesque mantle of seedy political wonk-advisor, Al: lose the yum goong soup. Fast. You are running in Minnesota against Senator Norm Coleman: Mr. Apple fucking pie Americana. That chow is too eastern seaboard elite-internationalist -- go in for some Pillsbury Cookies made with Land O Lake butter, my little soupbone, or, better yet, pot luck. Now, that's Minnesota cuisine at it's most inedible. Thems good eats. Stick to the mild humor, Al, leave the heavy lifting to the professionals.

In: The Indian fashion industry. Mark my words, my crystal ball is clear: 2004 will be the year of India. Indian culture is hott. Bollywood rocks. And their curry-hott fashion market is about to blow up:

"Raghavendra Rathore, the designer from the royal family of Jodhpur in the desert state of Rajasthan, known for its vibrant colors and rich embellishments, said every designer was trying to work out that perfect combination of inspirational designs, financial management and marketing savvy.

"'The bubble is about to burst and one or two of the designers will really make it. Very soon you will see,' said Rathore.

"Fashion experts and industry insiders say it is only a matter of time before one of the top 50 makes that elusive breakthrough and becomes an international style icon.

"'People are dying, itching to see that one perfect combination,' Rathore told Reuters on the sidelines of Fashion Week on Wednesday. 'It's a matter of time, stars and the moon to align themselves when the time is right.'

(and while we're on fashion, a little plug for our pal Ivy Supersonic, a force of nature)

Out: Al Gore to buy NWI?! According to Wonkette, Al Gore will announce the purchase of the excellent under-the-radar international news channel NWI. Damn. No doubt Al will fuck this up just like 2000. There goes the fucking neighborhood. And I really loved my Canadian News with dinner. *sigh*Seriously, I'm not joking

In: Arnold sues. According to TheSmokingGun, The Governator has sued the company that made the bobblehead doll of him. Bad move, Ex Lax. Blame it on the dodgy horse hormaone to human hormone ratio in Shwarzenegger's blodstream, but this lawsuit is only going to fly back in his face. As the cats at theSmokingGun explain:

"The Schwarzenegger doll, which went on sale about a month ago, is one of several bobbleheads featuring politicians that the Ohio firm sells (John Kerry, Wesley Clark, and Howard Dean also retail for $19.99, while George W. Bush would only set you back $14.95). The bobblehead company contends that since Schwarzenegger is now an elected official, his image is public domain."

But try to explain that to Arnie, who is campaigning so hard for the Republican nomination in 2008, what, with trips to Jordan, Israel and Germany, that he is neglecting that self-deprocating humor element of his political persona. It's a crucial part of any politician, Arnie. Shheeessh. Nazi-kids have no sense of humor.

Out: Tanorexic Teens. According to the LA.com blog, "Sun-kissed California teens may have to catch their rays all natural if lawmaker Joe Nation (D-San Rafael) gets his way. Nation introduced a bill, which was amended on April 22, banning teens under 18 from using tanning beds."

But what about the orange teens? What happens when they revert to a pasty shade of white? It'll be anarchy!

In: Welcome to Defamer, the inside Hollywood blog, which debuts with, among other things, a Friends last episode spoiler. Cheers, and welcome to the club.

In: Michael Musto, one of our favorites for years, interviews Jessica Simpson. Hot damn, kids, with that intro, you just know it's on like popcorn. Just sit back, and let the Musto weave the tale:

"Granted a moment to interrogate�rather than lick�Jessica, I asked her if she's become any more sophisticated lately, but she didn't seem to get the question. I repeated it, and sweet Jessica laughed and replied, 'That's not a good word to describe me. Classy, but I don't know about sophisticated.' 'Baby, you're the most sophisticated," smirked Lachey, oozing that patented male-hustler-esque chic I naturally adore. (He's the smart one in the household, the way Janet's the normal Jackson. Kidding. I love them all!)

"'Your favorite book?' I posited, but Jessica didn't hear the question. I repeated it, adding, 'Mine's Cosmo Girl.' She laughed�not that dumb�and said, 'My favorites are romance novels. I'm definitely a girlie girl. Anything that'll make me cry.' (Bergdorf Blondes does it for me. So moving.) And finally, considering that Jess is a part owner of Dessert Beauty, is this kind of expansion really necessary? Does she really need the moola? She got the question. 'Sure, why not!' baby Jessica exclaimed, without pause. Repeat: not dumb at all!

Only Michael Musto would have the guts to ask Jessica Simpson her favorite book. So best.

Out: Jordan: Hollywood of the Middle East? Army Archerd writes in Variety, "King Abdullah of Jordan is no stranger to Hollywood -- or appearing before cameras. But earlier this week he was in Hollywood trying to encourage shooting (movies, that is) in Jordan. He personally conducts a taped tour of Jordanian sites that could be attractive to moviemakers.

In: Plum Sykes is a bitch, so says our favorite socialite, the always in Miu Von Furstenberg. "There's nothing worse than a socialite with a bad attitude, and Anna Wintour as a mentor."

That's Our Miu, standing up for socialite scrumptiousness against the dark forces of Plum.

Felix Dennis: Poet? Naaaah

Maxim Magazine founder and vole-like mogul Felix Dennis really wants to be a poet, or so he hints to the Wall Street Journal today.

Oh, The Corsair loves rich eccentrics, like Sargent Shriver and Felix the scat ... we could go so many ways with this little chestnut.

WSJ's Matthew Rose writes:

"'It would be nice if Mr. Letterman or Oprah gave me two minutes,' Mr. Dennis says. 'I'd blow their bloody socks off.'

"Mr. Dennis has let his hair grow long and shaggy since he started writing seriously in late 2000. He has completed 650 poems, at last count, in the four hours a day he devotes to them. Every few weeks, he sends what he calls a 'wodge' of poems to his editor and to a lawyer friend, who stands in for the kind of ordinary reader Mr. Dennis seeks. Mr. Dennis then joins the other two in grading his poems. Those that get three As make the cut. Cs are discarded. Anything in between goes up for discussion or revision.

"Mr. Dennis says in the next few years he's considering selling Dennis Publishing, owner of the highly successful Maxim, an irreverent men's magazine. He would like to concentrate on poetry and other interests ..."

" ... A poet named Michael Horovitz (during a reading by Dennis) jumped up and protested that it was 'so wrong and so unfair,' Mr. Dennis recalls. Mr. Horovitz says he didn't use those exact words, but he has little admiration for Mr. Dennis's style: 'He has this maddeningly reactionary and Philistine concern about rhyming, which is why Felix, until he gets over it, won't become a true poet.' He adds that people only bought the book out of 'sheer gracefulness' in return for free wine."

Wine ... or whine. Mr. Dennis is like any other good British boy who wants deeply and perversely to be Lord Byron. The Corsair believes that the whole Rolling Stones/ Beatles thingie began with Lord Byron, rock stars are just pale imitations. But the sun has set on the British Empire, although they have colonized the language -- why not make the most of it, my little soupbones, goes the thinking.

Alas, "Mr. Dennis," while living like an imperial viceroy on Mustique, doesn't know that the category of poet is, in fact, dead. Rigor mortis has set in. No one gives a flying fuck about the poets anymore. And poets, as a social class, are on the rungs somewhere between subway motormen and squeegee handlers on the great social ladder of Being.

Finally, Dennis lacks the exotic bohemian style, the savoir faire, of Lord Byron, Don Juan; rather, Dennis strikes us as Falstaff without the wit and minus the drinking stamina. The Corsair managed (wink, wink) to get a few stanzas of Dennis' floetry, his low grade godawful doggerel.

Check it:

"Epistle to Celebrity Skin

"Halle Berry's got a lotta class/
Fills out a swimsuit with her tits and ass/
She took the Motion Picture Academy to the Cleaners/
Plus she stirs my Oscar ... Meyer Weiner"

Also:

"Lara (Flynn Boyle)

"How does one adequately describe in verse/
Without appearing too perverse/
I'll set aside my pint of Bass/
And describe the bony curvature of her ass."

But, that's not all ... Finally:

"Gina Gershon

"Gina, Gina, Burning Bright/
In the forest of the night/
Should a pizza suddenly appear/
Which slice would go best with beer?"

I'll refrain from reading Rhyme of the Ancient Pamela.

Big kudos to TMFTML, who also tear Felix a new hole.

Comments? post here or at BestWeekEver.

White House Correspondents Dinner: Famous-For-DC

We are the world's last superpower. America, the great. We sit astride the globe like a mighty colossus. So, what went on at the WHCD Bloomberg After Party?

Wonkette, Mrs. Cox (2nd story on OldHag), who was charming on Howie Kurtz, leads us off:

"Line is not quite around the block. Jeff Bezos is behind us. Franken about five places behind us, swaying just slightly. Much discussion on whether or not IDs are being checked and whether or not everyone is being forced to stand in line or just those of us who may be famous-for-DC but who are not legitimately famous. Question answered:

- Olsen twins are swept by.
- Chris Matthews goes right on in.
- Joe Scarborough, talking to Marines, follows.
- Bezos takes this as his cue.
- John Podhoretz next, eliciting memorable exchange:

Franken: 'I'm telling Page Six!'
Podhoretz: 'I am Page Six!'
Franken: 'You can't handle Page Six!'
Franken proclaims his intention to get to the bottom of this. Marches forward. Returns, announces, 'They told me I could get in, but I'm gonna wait in line with you!'

"Truly, a man of the people."

Jon Fine of AdAge tells us:

"The crowd of well-wishers demanding snapshots with Internet gossip-and-links purveyor Matt Drudge -- outfitted for the occasion in a simple white hat he bragged cost $3.99 -- was substantially larger than those demanding snapshots with entertainer Wayne Newton. (Those convinced that Donald Trump has the most terrifying hair in the world would do well to avoid the improbable and elaborate structure that crowns Mr. Newton's skull.)"

"... Newsweek columnist Howard Fineman end-running an entire receiving line to enter Newsweek's pre-dinner reception -- an egregious offense of party etiquette ameliorated slightly by the fact he had Meg Ryan on one arm."

Next, we have Hank Steuver of the Washington Post:

"Nix the moment where Henry Kissinger, older than ever, declines, with actual horror in his voice, the opportunity to speak to Lyndon LaRouche. (Who, it happens, told us: 'Keep out of mischief, unless you enjoy it.' Oh, that lovable LaRouche.)"

"But Ben Affleck looked exactly like Ben Affleck, and his draw was understandably magnetic. He was large-headed, and available, out on the crowded smoking yard in back, surrounded by all these young Republican women (he told one of them he thinks Republican girls are better looking than the rest, and she told us, and we tell you). Vanessa Kerry, daughter of, took his cigarette out of his hand and threw it on the ground, as a health admonition. Later Affleck got involved in a heated debate about the estate tax."

Danna Harman of the Christian Science Monitor:

"Serena Williams, awesome enough in her tennis clothes, was in an even more eye-catching emerald number."

And, finally Elizabeth Bumiller of the NY Times:

"'It's become like everything else,' said Christopher Buckley, the comic novelist and a former speechwriter for Mr. Bush's father. 'It's become the Super Bowl.'"

Basta!

NYTimes to Spurlock: You Want Liver Failure With That?

It is rare that the staid New York Times Arts and Leisure section makes The Corsair spit out his Kenyan blend coffee, but Susan Dominus did, in her interview with Morgan Spurlock of the eagerly anticipated fast-food bashing film Super Size Me. Sure, Emily Nussbaum's lovingly rendered 70s tv nostalgia moves me; but Dominus downright floored me.

After about 30 days of McDonalds:

"DOMINUS: Did you start to smell bad?

"SPURLOCK: Oh, man. I was deliberately not exercising any more than the average American, but I did let myself go to the sauna, to kind of sweat some stuff out of me. And when I came out of the sauna, some guy was like, man, somebody or something smells like cheeseburger in here. I could only assume it was me.

"DOMINUS: I think that's a safe assumption."

A Little of the Old In and Out

In: Kaballah gibberish tatoos. In her rush to emulate the Material Girl (who, apparently, is no longer materialistic) Britney Spears made a boo-boo, according to the 3 AM girls:

"The 22-year-old has had a series of Hebrew symbols etched into the back of her neck in an act of devotion to Kabbalah, the mystical form of Judaism she was introduced to by Madonna.

"But unfortunately for her they are absolute gibberish.

"Says a source: 'She had hoped it would say new year or new era. It seems she's got the words the wrong way round."

Oops she did it again (we couldn't resist).

Out: Fashionweekdaily reports that Plum Sykes may, finally, have found her plum pudding, I mean, prince charming:

"Has Plum Sykes, 34, finally found her prince? Sources close to the Bergdorf Blondes author tell us she may be getting engaged soon to erstwhile Internet entrepreneur Toby Rowland. The 35-ish Rowland is the son of the late Tiny Rowland, a British press baron who owned Britain�s The Observer newspaper at one point. Toby, who was engaged once before, to an American, started an Internet company at the height of the dot com boom, but his company went down when the bubble burst; before that he worked for Disney."

Not the freshest catch, Plum, darling: Rowland was head of something called Clickmango, an online health site that went bust ... can the air of impatient superiority that surrounds you support such an association?

In: Art wars. Who wins? Us! Those crafty Page Sixers report that Sotheby's and Christy's are going all out this week:

"Both are holding their major Impressionist, Modern and Contemporary art sales. On the block is between $400 million and $500 million worth of art. Each auction house has gambled millions of dollars guaranteeing owners minimum prices, whether their artworks sell or not. The excitement starts tomorrow with Christie's Impressionist and Modern art sale featuring, among others, Modigliani, Monet, Chagall and Picasso."

Seriously, though, if any of you want to hook me up with George Braques Bouteille et Verre ( a steal, BTW, at $1.2 million to $1.6 million), I wouldn't have a problem.

Out: Teenage Exhibitionism. Daphne Merkin in today's New York Magazine brings us up to scoop on what the private school kids are doing (Is there a NY Mag private school beat?). And, as far as I am concerned, it makes my old UN School spitball embarassment moments look fucking miniscule in comparison:

"In the latest instance of a teenager attempting to convey her hotness factor, a Horace Mann eighth-grader used a digital camera to tape herself masturbating and simulating oral sex, then e-mailed the gawkily explicit video�which resembles an audition for a pedophiliac porn film�to a male classmate she had a crush on. The boy in question chivalrously rushed the three-minute clip onto the Web, and its contents quickly made the private-school circuit."

Damn. Kids are cruel.

In: Guy Ritchie; Lourdes: Language Maven: Einstein. According to the Austrian Magazine Woman, via Ananova, Madge says of her husband:

"'My husband was always a scientific type and a total Darwinist when I met him. He was never interested in spiritual things like God and the Bible. But Kabbalah is based on scientific facts and that captured his analytical mind.

"'My daughter also attends her own spiritual course every Saturday where she learns about sharing and the power of her words. It's changed her a lot - she doesn't overreact as much anymore,' she said."

So your baby is a sorceress and your hubby is a mad genius. Gee, the Kaballa has really made Madonna down to earth.

Out: Sofia and Quentin are officially an item. A gawker stalker breaks it all down for us. Check it out, apparently, "They like each other quite a bit, actually. It's all been rather peasy."

In: Russia. All that corrupt cash floating around, not to mention the spikey hair, the gel, the loose women -- get me a flight. According to Nick Charles of Fashionwiredaily, "No wonder Vanity Fair-y George Wayne has not returned from a jaunt to Russia. According to Lotus co-owner and party poohbah Mark Baker, Moscow is the place to be these days, and a Moscow branch of Lotus isn�t far off. Apparently the city is crawling with newly-minted billionaires who love anything that smacks of American-style glamour, and Moscow fashion week has become a must. Baker is also helping Russian aristo-model Natalia Vodianova channel some of the cash to a good cause and establish a children�s foundation with a Calvin Klein fashion show planned for the Moscow launch. As for George, he is still 'missing' somewhere on the Volga. After persistent reports of perk fests in the name of Vanity, is there a home to come back to?"

The Corsair prediction: Wayne will return in a few weeks with a harrowing story of partying with ukranian cossak crime lords and Moldavian slave-boytoys. All in time for the VF's next issue: That crezzy GW.

Out: Writers and envy. Carl Swanson on Elvis Mitchell in NY Mag:

"'Elvis has this sort of Candide-like air about him,' says Outside executive editor Jay Stowe, who edited Mitchell at Spin (yes, he worked there, too). It�s not na�vet�, exactly, but an aura of doing what he wants and seeming surprised, in all innocence, when people take offense."

Offense or envy?

Sargent Shriver: Keeping It Gully

WWD keeps us up to date on America's semi-Royals, The Shrivers (Quickly: let's do the math on this one -- Spensors:Windsors:: Shrivers: Kennedy's):

"The Shriver clan � Eunice Kennedy Shriver and her husband Sargent 'Sarge' Shriver, Timothy, Bobby, Anthony and First Lady of California Maria, descended on Giorgio Armani�s Rodeo Drive boutique Thursday night for a party hosted by Details and Olympic gold medalist Carl Lewis to benefit Special Olympics, founded by Mrs. Kennedy Shriver in 1968. While the entire retinue wore neutral-hued Armani, it was Sarge who caused the biggest fashion frisson in an Old Guard navy blazer and buttercup yellow trousers paired not with the standard loafers, but black and gold Reebok trainers. 'Am I hip? I don�t know,' he growled, 'but have you ever seen an 89-year-old man do this?' he asked as he lifted his leg to a 45-degree angle, leaned over and bent his knee to better examine his shoes. 'Oh, he is the most fashionable one of us,' joked his wife. 'Don�t let him fool you.'

(The Corsair lifts his leg to a 90-degree angle, leans over and bends his knee to better lift a bottle of Cutty Sark)

Anyhoo: Sure, Sarge, Dick Cheney would pass out if he tried that: you are the healthiest Vice Presidential also-ran in history; but Sarge, you're not tha only old man with some serious athletic game: Jack Palance, 84, that gravelly-voiced creepy Silver Age star, a full three years your senior, does push ups in public.

You better recognize!

Frankly, though, my favorite Sargent Shriver story is told by Sam Stossel here in The Atlantic, April 9, 2004:

"A campaign-trail legend from 1972 places Sargent Shriver, the dashing Democratic candidate for the vice presidency and the former director of the Peace Corps and the War on Poverty, in Youngstown, Ohio, chatting up voters in a working-class tavern. Shriver is his usual genial self, and seems to be connecting with the assembled steelworkers, who will form part of a vital voting bloc in the general election. As the merrymakers call for another round, people shout out the names of their favorite beers. Not to be outdone, Shriver eagerly joins the chorus: 'Make mine a Courvoisier!' For Congressman Tip O'Neill, who had been traveling with Shriver, this faux pas was the last straw. 'That's it,' said O'Neill, stepping away from the bar. 'I'm getting back on the plane and going back to Boston. There's no hope here.' (Indeed, there wasn't. Richard Nixon was reelected in a landslide that November.)"

Oh, yeah, Tip, like a man named after a drink gratuity is unfamiliar with the 'voisier. (averted gaze). Rest in Pickled, Tip

John Simon: P Diddy Has Presence ... Alacrity

We are in "the last days," people; the last days. Strange things are happening. Jesus is right around the corner. Will you be Left Behind? John Kerry's presidential campaign is shaping up to be the biggest natural disaster since Al Gore. George Bush's base is starting to abandon him. Now, John Simon, the ultrasnarky New York Magazine theater critic, has some, sort of, nice things, to say about P Diddy's performance in Raisin in the Sun:

"Under Kenny Leon�s meat-and-potatoes direction, all the principals in Raisin�Phylicia Rashad, Audra McDonald, Sanaa Lathan, and young Alexander Mitchell�do admirably. As for Sean Combs as Walter Lee, his eyes widen a bit too readily, his limbs are so loose as to threaten flying apart, and his face is curiously babyish. Still, he has genuine presence, and his emoting, except in a moment of utmost dejection, has alacrity�no diddling or puffery�and shows potential, if not quite yet heart."

Genuine presence .. alacrity ... boyishness ... no diddling or puffery?

On the subject of snark, Bob Hoover of the Pittsburg Post Gazette wrote on Simon:

"John Simon's dismissal in The Times of Norman Mailer's 1991 'Harlot's Ghost' came close.

"Confronted with that 1,300-page 'widow-maker,' Simon summed up Mailer as 'a punch-drunk writer trying to outbox all competition, real or imaginary.'"

The Hindu of India (no, that was not a typo) summed it up:

"But the review that really got Mailer's goat, perhaps because it appeared in the one publication that matters most to American writers, was that of John Simon in the New York Times Book Review.

"Simon, better known as a theatre critic, found Harlot's Ghost an 'arbitrary, lopsided, lumpy novel that outstays its welcome'. Mailer's 'hang-ups are too naked, puerile, perverse", wrote Simon, adding that "what he lacks is (a good) editor'. Worse has been written by reviewers � and some of Simon's 2,500-word critique was even complimentary � but Mailer blew a gasket. He stormed into the offices of the New York Times, demanding � and obtaining � a meeting with the Managing Editor of the paper and the editor of the Book Review section. Simon, he alleged, was biased against him: Mailer had apparently described Simon years ago as being 'as predictable in his critical reactions as a headwaiter.'"

A kinder, gentler John Simon? Naaaaaahh.

(UPDATE MON MAY 4) Page Six Blind Item Guesses

Those crafty Page Sixers write:

"WHICH newly single model/actress has a drug problem? Pals say the leggy looker has always dabbled, but now the cocaine habit is spiraling out of control - and the friends are siding with her estranged husband, who is clean and sober . . ."

Hmmm. Let me rack my brain on who this possibly could be. Newly single model/actress ... I'm thinking either Cindy Crawford or, quite-possibly-maybe, Rebecca Romijn Stamos? Hmmmm. Who would be the stronger of the two?

And the second: "WHICH pop star has a sex tape about to surface, a la Paris Hilton? The tape, shot by her own brother, shows her fooling around with a woman and doing cocaine and crystal meth between sex acts."

I haven't the faintest idea, but I'm sure in about a week or so we all will know, thanks to Page Six. I posted the story on theWendyExperience Board and people think that it is either Britney (older brother Brian Spears) or XTina (younger brother Michael Aguilera) or Avril Lavigne (brother is Matt Lavigne).

Actually, I haven't the faintest idea about either of them. I'm just continuing the conversation that the Page Sixers started, as any good media-centric blog is wont to do.

That PageSix.com ... man, it's like electronic crack it's so addictive. They must mix some high grade lactose in the Page Six recipe.

And, for those of you who need more of the electronic crack, on Monday, May 4th, this blind item by those crafty Sixers:

"WHICH talk show host has a problem with a sexy segment producer? She's telling friends how he tried to slide his hand up her skirt during a private meeting."

I don't know who this is, but I am goddamned sure that it aint Ricki Lake.

A Little of the Old In and Out

In: Desire as opposed to need, baby pop -- that's how we drop. Does that sound too trippy? Is The Corsair being a tad too Schopenhauresque in formulations? Let me do the remix, my little soupbones: Fashionweekdaily, overheard at �French Kiss,� a night of dinner, dancing and gambling to benefit Memorial Sloan-Kettering�s cancer center at The Mandarin Oriental Hotel�s Grand Ballroom, on bidding on the silent auction items, �Need is so ten years ago; it�s all about desire now.�

Out: Naomi Campbell gets the big Italian boot (ka-pow!) from Valentino ("don't let tha door hit ya , where the good lord done split ya"), reports JJ Martin of Fashionweekdaily:

"Campbell, whose level of celebrity here in Italy rivals the Pope, is being replaced by Gisele 'The Bod' B�ndchen. Gisele will be shot today and tomorrow in Val�s own backyard, Roma, by Mario Testino for the Fall/Winter 2005 campaign. Valentino hasn�t shot in Rome since 1995, when Arthur Elgort captured Claudia Schiffer looking as irresistible as Fellini�s fountain-bathing Anita Eckberg in La Dolce Vita.

Crazy, like Swayze: she's like the wind (ponders Naomi meaningfully, then goes back to the snarky gossip).

In: InStyle writer Erica Kennedy, the godmother of Russell Simmons and Kimora Lee's daughter Ming, is the author of Bling, which, it appears, has already made quite a bit of bling bling and hoopla among rap royalty -- names changed to protect the not so innocent.

The Page Sixers write:

"Vanessa de la Cruz, the 'bitchy faded supermodel,' is trying to open up her own image consultancy firm but doesn't like to do any real work, and is losing modeling gigs because of her bad attitude and age. Insiders giggle the character seems to be loosely based on Naomi Campbell, who last year started NC Connect, a publicity and image-relations firm.

"Meanwhile, Lena Whittaker, 'the wild, hip-hop-obsessed daughter of a powerful entertainment lawyer,' is a cross between Lizzie Grubman and Nicole Richie. At one point, Lena even hits someone with a glass - a la Richie's fracas at Bungalow 8 two years ago ("say you, say me ...").

"There's even a comic take on Combs' mother("is she too a 'natural blonde'?"), Janice Combs, via the character of Mama Jackson, a flamboyant older woman who rides on Lamont's coattails."

Writers can be so cruel. Present company excepted, surely. (altogether, now, my little soupbones: "... and don't call me Shirley")

Out: XTina cancels US Tour. Scandal ensues. According to the Sun, via Ananova, Christina Aguliera cancelled her tour at the last minute. According to Victoria Newton:

"Doctors ordered the star to pull out of a 28-date US tour to avoid permanently wrecking her vocal cords.

"The singer said: 'I really look forward to getting back out there and I�m using this time to write for my next record.

"'It�ll make the next time I play live bigger and better because I�ll have time to get things right for the next tour.'

"Revealing the cancellation to disappointed fans, Christina took a swipe at pop rival BRITNEY SPEARS who has been criticised for miming during her world tour.

"She said: 'I�ve had vocal strain in the past because I DO sing live.'"

Oh-oh, XTina's getting punchy; someone give her a film cameo, you know: she's beautiful ... no matter what they say. Although XTina made number 14 in the Rolling Stone Magazine 2004 Rock Rich List, with $27.9 million, and her tour last summer with Justin Timberlake sold out big cities, roughly one year ago Page Six reported that they were having problems selling tickets. Problems. Hmmm.

Then again, words can't bring her down.

In: According to the indispensible Page Six, this is the moment of truth for the Sex and the City movie (The Corsair plays The Final Countdown, by 80s hairband Europe):

"Sources say Kim Cattrall is still holding out, demanding pay and airtime equal to that of her nemesis Sarah Jessica Parker, and it's going down to the wire. 'If it doesn't happen this week, it doesn't happen,' said our insider. 'No one can believe Kim would pass this role up - it's not like there are that many offers on her table right now. HBO is desperately trying to convince her to do the movie, but it could go either way right now.'"

Nemesis. That sounds hott. Sounds vaguely superheroish. So, why not write a script capturing that nemesis chemistry: Carrie and Samantha catfight. Hey, I'm there.

Thousands of trim urbane women in Manolo Blahniks are pulling for Kim or HBO to come around. And The Corsair is right behind them in that imaginary demonstration line, checking out all their assets.

Out: Governor Shwartzenegger's Teutonic lack of a sense of humor, what a stereotype he is becoming -- what a bore. Apparently, the Governator is planning on suing an outfit that makes bobbleheaded dolls of him, according to the Smokinggun:

"Arnold Schwarzenegger is threatening to sue an Ohio company that is selling a bobblehead doll featuring the name and likeness of the California governor. In a blistering letter sent yesterday to the Ohio Discount Merchandise company, lawyer Martin Singer contended that Schwarzenegger was entitled to 'substantial damages' for the "unauthorized commercial exploitation" of the Republican pol's image on the $19.99 doll. With the exception of movie promotion, Singer noted that Schwarzenegger does not permit the use of his likeness on commercial products in the United States. Below you'll find a copy of Singer's letter. The Schwarzenegger doll, which went on sale about a month ago, is one of several bobbleheads featuring politicians that the Ohio firm sells (John Kerry, Wesley Clark, and Howard Dean also retail for $19.99, while George W. Bush would only set you back $14.95). The bobblehead company contends that since Schwarzenegger is now an elected official, his image is public domain."

Please Arnold: let's just chalk this whole unseemly episode up to the 'roid rage (how sinister does that sound?) -- you know and I know, big guy, that you must have know that you've got a boatload of hormones from the animal kingdom in you that you shouldn't have in you, dude, I'm talking about the wild horses, and what not, guy. The 80s were a different time; man to man, I know you did what you had to do -- it's bodybuilding, extreme stuff, hey, I'm socially liberal about that stuff.

Anyhoo: Fuck if I know, dude, but I'm not even fucking technically sure at this point that you can even be classified as human anymore, you know what I mean? -- just -- just withdraw from these legal procedings slowly and blame it on your unnatural equine tendencies, no one will think the less of you. Let me take a flying leap into the unknown on this and predict that Arnold loses the case. Badly. In fact, his pressing of the point makes him look a tad fascist about the press. Perhaps some enterprising reporters as a result probe his dodgy deal "editing" Muscle and Fitness magazines while governing Cal--ee--for--nee--ahhhh. He is embarrassed at his inability to look humorously at himself. Just a guess, mind you, just a guess.

In: Naomi Watts is single. According to the San Fransisco Gate, via the Daily Star:

"Hollywood beauty Naomi Watts has dumped her toyboy boyfriend Heath Ledger -- because he's 'so immature,' reports a British newspaper.
The '21 Grams' actress, 35, is fed up with being left embarrassed by 25-year-old Ledger's conversational skills and has decided to branch out on her own.

"According to the Daily Star, Watts said, 'He doesn't want to get married and have kids.

"'He is immature and unruly. He's always out clubbing with his friends.

"'He's so immature that it makes me look stupid for being with him.'

Naomi, I understand where you're going with this, he is a monosyllabic dummy, but he's 25. At 25 I sure as fuck know all I wanted to do was club and party and drink and make money. But I'm drinking milk ... so, Naomi ... call me?

Out: The rogue punk ass British troops who tortured the nameless, faceless Iraqi, who may or may not be even alive. Paul Byrne of the UK Mirror writes (ed: note pictures accompanying the story are intensely graphic):

"A HOODED Iraqi captive is beaten by British soldiers before being thrown from a moving truck and left to die.

"The prisoner, aged 18-20, begged for mercy as he was battered with rifle butts and batons in the head and groin, was kicked, stamped and urinated on, and had a gun barrel forced into his mouth.

"After an EIGHT-HOUR ordeal, he was left barely conscious and close to death. Bleeding and vomiting and with a broken jaw and missing teeth, he was driven from a Basra camp and hurled off the truck. No one knows if he lived or died."

Accompanying the story is an Iraqi man, face covered with a paper bag, bleeding from the jaw, and urinated on by British soldiers.

UK Mirror writes:

" ... Chief of the General Staff General Sir Michael Jackson said: 'If this is proven, the perpetrators are not fit to wear the Queen's uniform. They have besmirched the good name of the Army and its honour.'

"No 10 said: 'The Prime Minister fully endorses the general's statement.'"

In: From Flab to Fab: 90 days to a hot body, a la VH1. "Could you look like a rock goddess too if you had (a small army of personal trainers, nutritionists and stylists
demanding one more sit-up, counting every calorie and picking out the perfect
outfits to show it all off) at your beck and call? VH1 proves that 'real' woman can in
its two one-hour series, 'Flab to Fab,' premiering Monday, May 10th at 10:00
pm and Monday, May 24th at 10:00 pm."

Out: Trying to get the jump on Berkshire Hathaway's Warren Buffett, the second richest man in the world, and, if he will permit me to say, one crafty motherfucker. According to Bloomberg via The Age, when scalpers tried to make some money off Buffett online:

"Billionaire investment guru Warren Buffett is without doubt one of the most successful stockmarket investors of all time - and it appears he is just as savvy when it comes to sales strategies on the internet.

"When scalpers started hawking tickets to last night's annual meeting of Mr Buffett's famed investment vehicle, Berkshire Hathaway, in Omaha, Nebraska - offering tickets at $US117 ($A162) a pair on the eBay website - Mr Buffett, 73, jumped on to the online marketplace and offered 10,000 tickets at $US5 a pair. He blew away the competition.

"'He's got a situation where people are trying to take advantage of him,' said Donald Yacktman, of Yacktman Asset Management, in Chicago.

"'Count on Warren Buffett to do something like that.' Berkshire shareholders got four free passes to last night's annual meeting, described as 'Woodstock for capitalists' by Mr Buffett, and most take along at least two guests. The tickets are keenly sought - after all, it costs more than $US3000 to buy Berkshire's cheapest share and secure admission unless you can go along as a shareholder's guest."

While Woodstock for capitalists sound, uhm ... well, chic, you know, somewhat, for the economics majors and software company CEO-types, uhm, I guess(laughs nervously) : the big "to do" for tonight is still the White House Correspondents Dinner, and the crunk Bloomberg jumpoff after party ("the roof ... the roof ... the roof is on ... fire"). No offense to the cocktails and BBQ's in Omaha, and, oh, who can forget the 6 hour q and a with Warren Buffett --- sweet! Uhm: but no, Bloomberg's is still the pop off spot to get cookoo for cocoa puffs. Wonkette handicaps the tables, with a jaded but sexy eye:

ABC: "ABC's table is so hot it's practically glowing. Unanimous agreement from all sources. Says one, 'ABC managed a triple play --with heavy-hitter hotties from Hollywood (Affleck), Sports (Tom Brady) and Washington (Powell, Rumsfeld, Rove ... OK, well Rove's not exactly 'hot' but you know what I mean).'"

Bloomberg: "Hottt but not on fire like ABC. (Says one operative: 'Even though Bloomberg has the party tickets, I'd say ABC managed the most-impressive, most-enviable 'gets.'") Still, impressive: Candice Bergen, Minnie Driver, Drew Carey, Anna Kournikova. "

And, of course, Kwame will be at the all important Greta Von Sustern table ... (lulling sound of crickets in the moonlight) ... uh, hello?

In: And, while we are on Washington, Kerry needs to get a pit-bull running mate who is able to go negative, thus allowing him to look Presidential. Kerry is looking like Al Gore, Part II inside the beltway.

Who are the best pitbulls for this particular world-historical mission? Bill Richardson of New Mexico and the fiery and angry Max Cleland of Georgia. Hillary would be far too volatile being the attack dog -- she would only coerce the base to come out stronger for Bush, dashing Kerry hopes at swing voters.

I hate to say it, but John Edwards is too positive a man for this ugly mudslinging race (sorry John), although he would be a damn fine Attorney General, if Ralph Nader doesn't strongarm Kerry for that position at the last minute -- as we suspect that asshole will.

And to end on a positive note: In: Michael Musto has been updating La Dolce Musto as the week rolls by with top drawer gossip, to wit:

"BREAKING NEWS, 4.29.04 Watch out, Donald. IVANA TRUMP is about to announce the launch of her own reality show, called Girls on Top. More details next week.

"BREAKING NEWS, 4.30.04 Web exclusive: Rumors say pop princess MANDY MOORE is being considered for a role (presumably Glinda) in Wicked. That should be a walk to remember."

So keep your eyes peeled to the VV site. We are very pleased, as there is no such thing as too much Musto. So there. I don't care who knows it.

60 Minutes: America's Flirtation with Eugenics

Eugenics, a spurious philosophy that cannibalized Darwin, popular at the end of the nineteenth and top of the twentieth century, and American business executives (and academics at prestigious universities, showered with corporate money to lionize their exploits intellectually) did a flirtatious dance all the way into the 1970s. The philosophy goes as follows: businessmen and the wealthy are at the top of the intellectual food chain (Paris Hilton, Donald Trump?) because they can "survive" with the fittest, and, by contrast, the poor are mentally retarded and prone to criminality, and are thus unnecessary to the society. CBS' Bob Simon tackles the thorny issue if Eugenics in America on 60 Minutes on Sunday.

The 60 Minutes website reads:

"The Nazis became infamous for it, but even before Hitler plotted his master race, America practiced eugenics and it's a secret that a 60 Minutes report brings back to center stage in all its ugly shame.

"Bob Simon's report on a state institution that once kept thousands of children away from the rest of society will be broadcast Sunday, May 2, at 7 p.m. ET/PT."

CBS' site continues:

"The Walter E. Fernald School in Waltham, Mass., was once part of nationwide system of state-run institutions that warehoused children deemed "feeble-minded" -- in some cases right up until the 1970s.

"Michael D'Antonio writes in his new book, The State Boys Rebellion, that eugenics was an idea that peaked in the 1920s and 1930s.

"People were told, 'We can be rid of all disease...lower the crime rate...increase the wealth of our nation, if we only keep certain people from having babies,'" D'Antonio tells Simon."

The Tech at MIT wrote on itself in 1995:

"At the Oct. 3 news conference that announced the completion of the committee's nearly 1,000-page report, (President Bill) Clinton made a formal apology to the thousands of subjects of radiation experiments reviewed by the committee.

"The report stated that children at the Fernald School were 'unfairly burdened' by researchers from MIT and Harvard, who encouraged the children to take part in tests with promises of gifts or trips to Red Sox games.

"The researchers also appeared 'unwilling to respect' some children's wishes not to participate in experiments, according to the report. The parents of the children involved in the experiments were not told that the tests involved radiation."

Fuck. The 60 Minutes site:

"In fact, many of the children were not mentally impaired, but merely wayward or poor and uneducated with no place to go. Such children were often subject to the abuse inherent in large institutions.

"Fred Boyce was committed to Fernald at 8 years old when his foster mother died. 'It was the easy way out. They didn't have to look for homes for you so they could dump you off in these human warehouses and just let you rot,' he tells Simon.

"Boyce spent 11 years there and was labeled a 'moron,' even though his intelligence was within the normal range. There were many others kept at Fernald who were not mentally deficient.

"'We thought for a long time that we belonged there, that we were not part of the species...[not]supposed to be born,' says Boyce, who describes a vicious cycle at Fernald of abuse and harsh punishments for trying to run away from the abuse.

"Moreover, the normal inmates like Boyce had to work long, hard hours in Fernald's gardens, orchards and other work areas and thus were denied a proper education."

They weren't deemed educable. They were poor.

Finally:

"Joe Almeida was at Fernald at the same time as Boyce was. He relates a similar experience, but talks about another secret both men share: They were unknowingly subjected to radiation experiments at Fernald.

"'We were getting special treatment...extra dessert...extra milk,' says Almeida of the 'science club' they were recruited for. The food was radioactive, part of an experiment conducted by The Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the government and the Quaker Oats company.

"Boyce, Almeida and others in the 'science club' filed and won a lawsuit over the experiments. The $60,000 they each received was small, says Almeida, but no amount can replace the precious thing taken from him and thousands of others.

"'They took the most important thing in my life away...my childhood and my education,' Almeida tells Simon. 'The two things that you need in life to make it, they took from me'."

Mad scientist geekboys with human guinnea pigs in supply and business titans drunk on their invulnerability, deeming a class of people useless to their profit margins. A sad alliance. Of Eugenics, at the height of the Eugenicist movement during the Industrial revolution, the conservative -- surprise! --GK Chesterton wrote:

" I take one case of a more or less Eugenist sort from a paper that lies open in front of me --- a paper that still bears on its forehead the boast of being peculiarly an organ of democracy in revolt. To this a man writes to say that the spread of destitution will never be stopped until we have educated the lower classes in the methods by which the upper classes prevent procreation. The man had the horrible playfulness to sign his letter 'Hopeful.'"

Watch 60 Minutes Sunday at 7pm, and, hopefully, America never lowers itself into that Nietzchean pit again.