CFDA Aftermath



Above: Kate Moss in a nude-colored Christiane Dior bustier at last night's CFDA Awards.

The CFDA Awards, which ABCNews describes as "the Oscars of the Fashion world," took place yesterday night. In a move of astonishing meta-narcissism, fashionistas were allowed to observe themselves at the distance of a single ironical remove as they entered the event. The Old Gray Lady bitterly reports:

"Inside the New York Public Library, guests arriving for the American designer industry's annual awards night saw their own images: filmed as they walked up the red carpet to the event, and displayed on a 12-foot-by-15-foot video monitor shaped like a gilded mirror in the center of the room.

"'I like the screen,' said the model Linda Evangelista, as she watched how Kate Moss comported herself in a Dior couture gown for the photographers who lined the steps of the library. 'I wish I'd known it was there when I was walking in.'"

We know you do, Little Miss Mannequin. Do we, though, want to watch you watch yourself? (The Corsair dizzily rights his equilibrium after the previous sentence with a shot of Ouzo) Softpedia notes, "Supermodel Kate Moss, dressed in a nude-colored strapless corset dress with a black lace overlay received an award for her fashion influence, following the steps of previous winners Sarah Jessica Parker and Nicole Kidman."

And, from the Sydney Morning Herald:

"During the early 1990s, Moss fuelled the craze for waifish models, showing off her exceptionally slim frame in controversial ads for Calvin Klein fragrances. In recent years, though, Moss, 31, became a mother and has become well known for setting trends in her classically eclectic British style.

"Among the items Moss popularised are the now ubiquitous Australian Ugg boots and the much coveted Balenciaga handbag. She's modeled for many of the top fashion houses, including Chanel and Burberry.

"David Bowie presented Moss with her style icon award on Monday night at a black-tie gala at Manhattan's public library."

Are crack addicted boyfriends to be the next trend Moss popularizes?

Picture Pages, Picture Pages ...



Above: Prince Dimitri of Yugoslavia to Brian Snyder and K.C. Mercier: "Ah, the juice of a Uruguayan peasant farmer ... vintage ... 1977. Complex. The signature 'terroir' gave it away." (image via NYSocialDiary)



Above: "... Cuff him ... and stuff him, Sarg!" (image via Hello!Magazine)



Above: "Listen to me, people, and listen carefully. The so-called "Laugh Factory" is secretly harnessing your mirth for CIA experiments and outer space transmissions involving aluminum foil and the misleading malt liquor beverage known as "Champale"! I'm serious! Listen to me!"



Above: A postmodern conceptual installation piece entitled, 'Paris, Latsis and Plastic.' Viewers are invited to guess who is real and who is constructed of polymers.

Pete Doherty: Back on The Crack Rock



(image via Thisislondon)

Supermodel Kate Moss' ex-junkie boyfriend and alleged fiance is not such the ex-junkie after all. Evidently, Pete Doherty still sucks occasionally on the glass dick. He must be trying Chris Rock's extra special mouth watering spicy "recipe." (Spoiler -- sotto voce: Add lactose) According to the 3AM Girls:

"The Babyshambles singer is apparently smoking the highly addictive crack cocaine again - despite claiming that it was all in his past."

Not only that, he's weak in between the sheets. And, as we all know, an all-crack diet can only lead to the unfortunate inner-city-after-3AM-condition known as "the concave crack 'ho ass." (Averted Gaze) Sad that this should be happening to Kate, who just yesterday collected her style icon award. And crack addiction is so 80s.

"... Pete's continued use of crack came to light during an interview he gave to NME during the recent Homelands festival in Winchester in which he also claims that he tried to smuggle crack 'rocks' on to a plane. In the end, cooler heads than Pete's prevailed and he dumped his contraband."

Smoking crack rock during an interview with a major music magazine. Priceless, true; but also indicative of being batshit crazy. That's a real catch, Kate.

"The music mag reveals that Pete had an argument with his manager James Mullord, whom he accused of hiding his crack pipe.

"Pete is said to have screamed: 'I know you've got it. I KNOW YOU'VE GOT IT.'"

Shh. No all caps when The Corsair is so hung over. And things were looking so good, too. Local police recently stopped him and he was found to be clean.

"The mag reported: 'A pipe is swiftly constructed and then an argument breaks out about whether Pete should smoke crack in front of NME.' Needless to say, the dope lit up ..."

Why is Pete so argumentative and moody about his crackrock? First his manager, now this. Is being a "moody crack fiend," we wonder, anything like being an angry drunk?

"Later, when discussing his mood, Pete says he managed to get over his stage fright by smoking joints rolled for him by 31-year-old Kate.

"Asked what helps him chill out he says: 'My girlfriend made me a spliff out of a tampon tube. Since then it has been all right.'

Nothing spells loving like enabling your junkie boyfriend. The full story here.

Cheers, Christina Applegate



Above: "Everyone was shocked (Angela Bassett looked especially astonished!) when Christina Applegate appeared to fall off a lamppost on her way to present the Best Choreography Tony. Relax, kids, it was a stunt double." (image and text via Broadway.com)

Goddamn it, we'd be so much better for Christina Applegate than that big dummy Jonathan Schaech. Grr. What does he have on us, anyway? (The Corsair rolls up his crisp, off-the-rack, Saville Row shirt sleeves)

Take away the budding indie film career (The Corsair tosses back an Isolabella Sambuca neat) ... and the millions of dollars ( The Corsair sparks up a Macanudo Maduro) and the "edgy," dark trailer park persona and, well, Schaech's nothing but another extraordinarily good looking Hollywood guy. (The Corsair sighs)

We bet he doesn't even have his own blog. The Philistine!

Anyhoo: We have been unduly harsh on the little white haired girl from "Married ... With Children." But not as harsh as The Chicago Tribune, which writes today, "The Tony telecast's staggeringly dull opening montage, anchored by the inevitable Bernadette Peters, overlayed Peters' well-honed pipes on Christina Applegate's tiny voice, yet another humiliation for the pugnacious star of 'Sweet Charity,' who was rendered weirdly mute."

"Applegate did get to sing (sort of) later, and, in the funniest bit of the night, twirled around a lamppost and fell off the stage."

The fall, of course, was a choreographed pratfall, spoofing all the negative stories surrounding "Sweet Charity." She's got guts, this gal, who once had "Milkshake" as her cellphone ringtone; she's got guts, this gal, who once saw Ben Affleck's "stuff" splayed on a briefcase (Averted Gaze) during shooting for "Surviving Christmas;" she's got guts, this gal, who got stiffed on her "Married ... with Children" residuals.

We like the spunk. Christina's can hang. But we still believe we'd be better for her than that Schaech guy.

A Little of the Old In and Out



(image via probertencycolopedia)

In: The Feral Russell Crowe. Is the musky Russell Crowe safe for civilization? Ought Big Russ to be forced to exhibit a "Do Not Feed The Animal" t-shirt when out promoting his films stateside? Should we sprinkle his sweetmeats with saltepeter to douse his ungainly ardor? Would the dispassionate administration of a "tranq dart" into the precincts of his leathery hindquarters "down under" ... ease Our Favorite Simian into a more serene commerce with us more highly evolved homo sapiens (Averted Gaze)?

It cannot be easy for a Neolithic troglodyte like Russell to assume the upright posture for such extended periods of time. (The Corsair assumes the complex Zazen posture) Imagine the formidable strain on his "bandy legs." What were we thinking, letting him roam Manhattan unescorted and unmedicated? (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) According to NY1 (link via Drudgie Poo):

"With his latest film just hitting the theatres, actor Russell Crowe was arrested here in the city late Sunday night for allegedly assaulting a hotel employee. According to police, an employee at the Mercer Hotel in SoHo is accusing Crowe of assault.

"Investigators say the Oscar-winning actor struck the worker with a phone following reports had become frustrated that he couldn't connect a long distance call to Australia.

"The worker suffered a laceration to the face."

We so predicted this.



(image via the intrepid Page Sixxies via WireImage)

Out: Katie and Tom. Charmed, we're sure, at all the all-too-enthusiastic allegations of hott-monkey love between those Two Tinselbots presently cursed with that increasingly dodgy PR situation (Averted Gaze). Thwarted pseudo-love, IMHO.

In point of fact, the Cruiser-Holmes Make Out Machine (TM) is wildly careening out of control, spiralling into a solid wall of messy publicity gaffes. Nicole Kidman apparently -- or an organizer on behalf of Kidman -- wasn't amused backstage at the MTV Awards, according to the 3AM Girls:

"Cruise, 42 and his 26-year-old babe arrived on the back of his motorbike and headed straight to their own private love nest, a double dressing room at the backstage at the Shrine Theatre in LA.

"Organisers of the multi-million dollar TV awards show were ordered to make sure Tom and Katie didn't come face to face with Tom's ex, Oscar winning actress Nicole Kidman. So while Nicole in a tight black dress was helped down a flight of stairs, the loved-up pair stayed inside.

"An MTV insider said: 'There was an intricate timetable to ensure the three never came face to face. After Nicole presented her award, it was nearly two hours before Tom and Katie took to the stage.

"And things got cheesier when Katie presented her fella the MTV Generation Award, waxing lyrical about him being the type of guy who would 'take us on a ride of a lifetime.'"

"Wild ride," huh? (Averted Gaze) Is she sure she is not mistaking The Cruiser for the highly implausible "Cole Trickle" character of the abysmally bad box-office stinker "Days of Thunder"?



(via ImageScripting)

In: The Mysterious Melancholy Senator. Recently on Tucker Carlson's PBS Show 'Unfiltered' (We know now that by mentioning that we watched this stinker we have forever forfeited a precious 10 percent of the affection with which you once held The Corsair blog; presently we shall endeavor to win it back), the bow-tied one made an incredibly odd-cryptic remark. Tucker Carlson said that he knew of a Senator who had endorsed Howard Dean's quixotic Presidential campaign, who subsequently attended some form of therapy after the hard-hitting loss.

WTF?!

This is too fucking juicy for the politics geek in me. Did anyone in the Senate other than Senator Tom Harkin endorse Dean? Does anyone know if this is true?! papermag@yahoo.com


(image via WolvertonMountain.com)

Out: Is George Bush a Lame Duck? No, not by any stretch of the imagination. Absent some cataclysmic event, John Bolton will pass as Ambassador to the UN (Prediction: 54-46?) when Congress reconvenes after the Memorial Day recess tomorrow. Still, uber-insider and incendiary journo Robert Novak navigates us through the breakers of this tricky subject (link via Drudgie-Poo) of Bush's relationship to Congress:

"But being a lame duck may be a special burden for Bush. 'I don't believe the president understands that though he never again will run for any office, we have to run every two years,' a leading House Republican told me.

"That lack of rapport reflects coolness between a conservative Congress and a conservative president. Only Jimmy Carter as president was more of an outsider than Bush. In my first interview with then Gov. Bush, he told me how he disliked Washington. He acts as though the city today -- especially Congress -- is less attractive than ever.

"Bush never has been able to find a Washington facsimile of the late Texas Lt. Gov. Bob Bullock, the old guard Democrat who was Bush's invaluable partner during his governorship. He has found congressional Democrats to be in the mold of Rep. George Miller of California, who was the president's partner briefly in passing the 2001 education bill. Miller and his colleagues, Bush has learned, are liberal, partisan and combative.

"Nor is the president adept at turning around Republican strays. When the House Republican leadership on occasion has given him a list of recalcitrant members to rope in on a specific bill, he never has delivered. Whether he has tried very hard is debatable, but Bush is no Lyndon B. Johnson in dealing with members of his own party."

No, he's not. We cannot imaging the dignified if dim "W" conducting meetings in the john, like LBJ did.

"The president, in truth, cannot take credit for all of his legislative accomplishments this year. He benefits from a well-oiled Republican organization in the House. But the major bills passed this year -- reforms governing class-action lawsuits and bankruptcy -- were lobbied to passage by 'K Street' (the business lobbyists). They, not Bush, were responsible for 73 House Democrats crossing over on a vote to make bankruptcies more difficult."

The full Chicago Sun-Times article.



(image via Time)

In: Shirley MacLaine. After many wacky intergalactic lifetimes (Charlemagne's seducer, 8th Century Moorish girl), Shirley MacLaine still has the hot monkey sex drive. TMI? After all, we would expect no less from a satyr-blood relation to the "priapic" Warren Beatty. According to Jeanette Walls:

"Oliver Stone has more woes on his hands than his recent drug bust; he has also incurred the wrath of Shirley MacLaine.

"The new-age actress reportedly threw a drink in Stone's face when he asked about her sex life.

"'I met Oliver Stone recently and he asked me if I still make love. I became so furious that I threw my glass of wine in his face,' the 'Terms of Endearment' star said, according to ContactMusic. 'It's amazing how men think that women no longer have sexual desire once they reach their 60th birthday.'

"In fact, the 71-year-old MacLaine says she needs a younger man to keep her interested. 'I'd never be involved with or attracted to a man my own age. He wouldn't be able to keep up with me,' she said. 'I need a man who is about 15 years younger than me? someone who is flexible and fun and energetic.'"

And, we hear, allegedly, types who are distinguished-looking and in the diplomatic corps or the world of politics, preferably with a focus on Europe. Allegedly. And what not.



(image via the ironically titled Back-ins-tyle.com)

Out: Manolo Blahnik's, RIP. Foot fetishists, thou hast been brought low. Apparently, when WWD and W's Jacob Bernstein (son of Watergate journo Carl Bernstein and Nora Ephron) isn't dropping a dime on the identity of "Deep Throat," he is chronicling the end of the line accessory of "Sex and the City." According to Fashionweekdaily:

"... it seems that Jacob Bernstein is driving Eye editor Anamaria Wilson crazy over at the Fairchild offices ... speaking of Bernstein, he's apparently at work on a piece about how, thanks to shows like Sex and the City and all the overexposure it got, Manolo Blahnik as a brand is 'over'"

From Jacob's byline to the purple mountains majesty.

In: Nicholas Kristof, 2005 Michael Kelly Award Winner. Congrats to the Old Gray Lady's op-ed columnist on his timely meditations of the Genocide in The Sudan. The award could just as easily went to Kristof for his poignant columns on underage sex workers in Cambodia. According to the Award site (link via Poynter):

"David Bradley, chairman of Atlantic Media Company, announced today that New York Times columnist Nicholas D. Kristof is this year's recipient of the Michael Kelly Award for his columns denouncing genocide in Sudan and sexual exploitation in Southeast Asia.

"The $25,000 award is given annually to a journalist whose work exemplifies a quality that animated Michael Kelly's own career: the fearless pursuit and expression of truth. Kelly, who was the editor of two Atlantic Media publications, The Atlantic Monthly and National Journal, was killed while covering the war in Iraq in 2003.

"According to a statement from the award judges, 'Kristof linked the word genocide to the ongoing persecution of black Africans in the Sudanese region of Darfur, and focused attention on the continued sexual exploitation of young women in the brothels of Cambodia. With conviction, passion, and audacity, Kristof tugged at the world's conscience, in the best tradition of Michael Kelly.'"

Mike Nichols-Diane Sawyer Media Domination Tour



Above: Nichols-Sawyer: Hotter Than Vader-Palpatine. (image via YahooMovies)

It's Mike Nichols' and Diane Sawyer's world, party people, we just live in it. He revolutionized comedy; she has navigated the perfect career, from her incarnations as "the cookie" in Nixon's Press office, to seasoned investigative journo on 60 Minutes, to founding co-anchor of Primetime Live (And, who can forget that odd interview with ex-lover Warren Beatty in the early, embattled days of that now successful program), to the glorious network cash cow that is Good Morning America. We have followed Diane Sawyer's glorious evolution with considerable, and in full compliance of the outstanding restraining order.

Anyhoo: We are subletters in the massive media Sawyer-Nichols edifice (TM). And here we thought Les Moonves and Julie Chen ruled the galaxy with such suave benevolence.

Quite the contrary. We were naive. It is not enough that Diane Sawyer owns the morning. It is not enough that Diane Sawyer is eating Katie Couric's lunch, with her signature "poised, creamy insicerity."

No. German-born Ubermensch Mike Nichols has to own the TONY's as well. And, for those who are counting (and we most certainly are), Nichols has won a Grammy (1961 : Best Comedy Performance), an Oscar, 4 Emmys and now a career total of 9 TONy's.

What's next, a "Bloggy" for his pithy Huffington Posts?

A Little of the Old In and Out



(image via yale)

In: Hollywood and The Clintons. In his final days as Commander-in-Chief, all manner of rumor attached itself to Bill Clinton regarding a post-Presidential sojourn in Hollywood. In retrospect, through lucrative and balmy in clime, that particular glitzy precinct wouldn't be very conducive to the resuscitation of legacy of the embattled statesman.

At the time, though, everything from an executive position at that most excellent of studios, Dreamworks, to an Oprah-like talk show venue were openly conjectured about in Tinseltown. Clinton elected not to take the bait. Nowadays, intriguingly, it appears that Bill Clinton's ambitions lie definitively in achieving the thankless position of Secretary General of the UN. He'll have to win back The House of Representatives and the Presidency for his party for that invitation, though.

Still, Hollywood loves the Clinton's. This week's fund raiser proved who's the established frontrunner of the Democratic Party. Senator Clinton, that's who. Senator Evan Bayh's fascinating achievement of what amounts to a good "mini-buzz" in Tinseltown is nothing ... nothing compared to Senator Hillary's (But it is mildly impressive for an Indiana Senator with charisma deficits). Witness what the Los Angeles Times has to say of Hillary breeze through town this week at events like the party at Warner Bros. President Alan Horn's crib:

"Conservatives may strive to portray New York Democratic Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton as a polarizing figure, but she unified Hollywood Democratic political donors at a series of fundraisers that netted an estimated $1 million in a single evening, hosts estimated Thursday.

"In an industry where Democrats still like to describe themselves as in recovery from the reelection of Republican President Bush, the Clinton California swing this week was clearly a shot in the arm and spurred the inevitable talk of a possible presidential bid.

"From a $1,000-per-person soiree at the home of Warner Bros. chief Alan Horn to a late-night Young Hollywood shindig co-hosted by such performers as Christina Aguilera, Scarlett Johansson and Jake Gyllenhaal, organizers of the Wednesday night events had to turn away aspiring guests.

"One dinner at the home of radio syndication billionaire Norm Pattiz was expected to bring in $450,000 for the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee, organizers said. Clinton appeared at the event with Sen. Harry Reid (D-Nev.)."

While bringing in the bacon for the Party is an excellent way for a Junior Senator to wield power at breakneck speed and forgo seniority, "fund raising duty" is an extremely dangerous course of action. Party fund raisers are targets. Has there been, in recent memory at least, any aggressive party fund-raiser that hasn't gone down in flames? We urge supreme caution and a heavy-vetting process on every check written to the DNC.

Out:Eccentric Meatstuffs. What is it about Karl Lagerfeld and the penchant for unusual "meat treats (No pun intended)"? First, he was all about the dietary virtues of extra-lean "horsemeat," now Karl kicks it up a level in unpleasantness with ... disguised duck liver. According to those intrepid Page Sixxies:

"IMAGINE biting into a cloud of cotton candy expecting the sweet sugar to melt in your mouth, and instead chewing into squishy lumps of duck liver. 'I almost puked,' said one long-legged beauty at the launch of Dom Perignon '98 hosted by Chanel designer Karl ('Kaiser') Lagerfeld.

Picture Pages, Picture Pages ...



Above: A hideously over-mantanned "Valentino" drapes an overbaked wing over his "top earning 'ho" Gwyneth Paltrow during 'Una Notte a Roma.' (image via AP)

slow news day ...

Newsweek KoranGate, 2.0



Today's Old Gray Lady tackles the Newsweek-KoranGate story, hopefully putting the story to rest. The Pentagon report, curiously issued on yesterday -- a Friday -- after the major evening news broadcasts had ended, essentially exonerates the military from the charge of any specific officer intentionally flushing a copy of the Koran down the toilet.

In one instance detailed in the report, a contract interrogator "apologized to a detainee for stepping on the detainees Koran in an earlier interrogation." I am generally of the opinion that the military has been consciously respectful in its policy towards the Koran and the detainees (though, of course, not 100 percent of the time), and that the occurrences of Koran abuse are unusual instances of stupidity. Nothing tells me otherwise (Newsweek withdrew their story) Eric Schmitt writes:

"The splashing of urine was among the cases described as inadvertent. It was said to have occurred when a guard urinated near an air vent and the wind blew his urine through the vent into a detainee's cell. The detainee was given a fresh uniform and a new Koran, and the guard was reprimanded and assigned to guard duty that kept him from contact with detainees for the remainder of his time at Guantanamo, according to the military inquiry.

"The investigation into allegations that the Koran had been mishandled also found that in one instance detainees' Korans were wet because guards on the night shift had thrown water balloons on the cellblock.

"In another case, a two-word obscenity was written in English on the inside cover of a Koran, but investigators could not determine whether a guard or detainee had written it."

According to the report intentional Koran abuse was a "rare occurrence." I hope so.

Note to Russell Crowe: Go Easy



(image via probertencycolopedia)

Russell Crowe reminds one of Harvey Keitel with all his idiosyncratic alpha male ramblings (or, as The Corsair likes to call such chatter, "the ... yam-yam"), but we have to admit, both men are dedicated actors with "the jeweler's eye" when it comes to choosing meaty, dramatic roles. Perhaps we ought to allow them their particular conceits and chalk it up to the eccentricity of near-genius.

It is in the June 10, 2005 issue of the always instructive but, sometimes, "overmanly," Entertainment Weekly, that Russell outdoes himself in telling testosterone-filled tales of training on the set of Cinderella Man:

"Russell Crowe: Spending 10, 12 hours a day in your own sweat -- that's a hard thing to get used to ... At one point I mentioned to the physiotherapist that it was like the third day in a row my urine was dark brown. And he was like, 'Man, you've got to bring that stuff up with me sooner. You're clinically dehydrated and your body is starting to eat its own muscle tissue."

TMI! TMI! Thanks for sharing, though Big Russ. Crowe is hilariously adolescent here or anytime he grunts and growls like a Lowland Gorilla, ass akimbo and knuckles dragging, establishing territorial dominance with his interviewers. There's always some sort of tale of endurance or test of wills with Russell Crowe. Do you remember the sour look on his puss when Denzel Washington beat him for an Oscar a couple of years ago? Crowe's overdeveloped sense of "Id" is most amusing, especially when his entourage of low rent thugs are in tow and he can do up the alpha male persona like a mug.

Imagine what it would be to "direct" such a species of man in an actual film? I'd definitely Tasergun his ass on day 1, just to establish who was alpha at the get-go, you knowwhatImean? Crowe would probably respect such a gesture as par for the course, anyway, no harm no foul.

Now, imagine ... a sketch for a comedy show where Harvey Keitel and Russell Crowe are in conversation (Slow news day, folks; we'll have to use our "imagination"), which starts out amiably enough, but eventually, for due to biochemical imbalances on the part of both participants, it escalates into competition, more and more ferociously, building, into some pagan dominance ritual, concluding in an impromptu wrestling match of astonishing violence. For the the greatest comedic effect, cast "actors" that look nothing like the two, but have the hair and voice mimickry down pat and walk in a "Simian" manner. To wit:

Russell Crowe: (Staring Intensely) I like your work, mate. (Flaring nostrils)

Harvey Keitel: (Dominant "Buffalo" Stance) Yeah, I like your work too, man. (Sizing him up; Reptile Gaze) Cheers. You've got a good work ethic. Most of these young punks today. (Roars; Tears out grass, Throws Grass into the air) They don't know what it means to do an honest days work.

Russell Crowe: (Beating Chest, slowly) I hear ya. (Low, Menacing Grunt) They don't give a shit about "The Craft." (Slowly encircles Keitel with an aura of Real Menace) They're just after "the romance" and "the glamour." (Eyes Keitel intently) Fucking pretty boys.

Harvey Keitel: You think acting is tough? (Abruptly Scent-Marks the Studio with His Own Urine) Ahh, scuse me. (Corners Crowe) I was a Marine. (Mock Charge) I learned one of my life lessons in the Marine Corps (Bears Fangs). I was on a night combat course. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face. I was scared. The instructor was standing on a platform and said, 'we're all afraid of the dark, but I'm going to teach you to live in the nighttime.'

Russell Crowe: In Gladiator (Bugles like a Bull Elk), I got a finger smashed in the first sequence on the general frontier. (Moves inch by inch, still watching Keitel) I burned my foot and I had both biceps tendons pop out. I still don't have any feeling in one finger.

Harvey Keitel: (Puffs out Chest to appear larger than he is) Our duty in the Corps was to protect those who do not have the means to protect themselves and that we were there is the sum of doing what is right.

(Tenseness ... Compressed Violence)

Crowe: (Deliberately; an Invisible Line-in-the-Sand Has Benn Crossed) ... In hunting everything has to be right. Even the rhythm of the moon is very important. A full moon, though, makes the hunt less successful as I probably become more visible to their prey with the light of the moon. (Pause) ... The heart, liver and kidneys are eaten first (Pounces on Keitel; About to tear out his throat)

Michael Madsen: (In Doorway) Can I join in? Or is this dance private? ... Are you gonna bark all day, little doggie, or are you gonna bite (Breaks bottle of Mouton Cadet in Half; Pounces)

Or something like that ...

A Little of the Old In and Out



(image via beatsandrants)

In: Dave Chapelle. According to Defamer, Dave Chapelle is slowly getting back into the swing of things via a touch of some revitalizing stand up comedy. How else to deflect those pesky "Crazy in South Africa" stories than by showing up to dispel the non compos menti whispers. To wit, via Collegehumor:

"(Chapelle) joked easily about his disappearance as well as the many rumors that surrounded the situation. 'When I see people they pretend that they haven't heard anything about this whole thing. Then I'll say something like I'm not crazy and then they'll say Oh yeah, that's right. I read something about that'"

"... He talked candidly about his future prospects saying that Hollywood is a forgiving place, but that he wasn't sure what he was going to do next. But when someone in the crowd answered that statement with a suggestion of doing 'Half Baked 2,' Dave was as quick as ever saying, 'If I do Half Baked 2, you'll know I've run out of money.'"

What to do next, though? Hmm. Difficult. Hey, how about, oh, say -- Season 3 of The Chapelle Show?! We're still waiting for that. Anyhoo: The Corsair wishes Dave the best of luck on his return and impending protracted legal brawl with Comedy Central.



Out: Cindy Adams. It's like she's taunting us. Harridan! Does Cindy Adams read this blog? Does she know how much that little dog of hers gets under our skin? Not only are we treated today to a lengthy meditation on Cin Adams' latest obsession with the niece of that fundamentalist ass-autocrat, Bin Ladin, but the picklehead "breaks us off a piece" in an astonishing ode regarding that lapdog we do so loathe, namely Jazzy Jr:

"TUESDAY was my dog Jazzy's second birthday. It's only a matter of time before Congress declares it a national holiday. One friend gave this 41/2-pound Yorkie a Yankee pinstripe jersey made exactly for his size."

A considerable pause. Careening waves of existential nausea. We continue.

"The perfect, perfect fit. A precise replica of George Steinbrenner's uniforms with the buttons and sweater cuffs. And, because Jazzy has a selfish 31/2-pound killer attack dog sister, Juicy, a navy and white bandanna for her that says 'Yankees.' As they, in tandemlike Clydesdales in their Yankee outfits, marched up Park yesterday to Dr. Berman, Jazzy's vet, for his checkup, some cocker spaniel growled at them. A doorman eyeing us intently said: 'Must be a Mets fan.'"

There are so many angles and avenues in which we could approach this story. So many. This story is kind of like Paris Hilton's leathery "coochie," that way. But in deference to the artistic logos and eidetic perfection involved in this ... this ... thusness (The Corsair gestures broadly with his arms after the Italian manner).

We're going to just let these words stand. We leave you with the arresting image of "Jazzy" and "Juicy" all dolled up like some ... (Averted Gaze) stinking little Yankee accoutrements (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment). And, not far behind, their pampered Park Avenue Mommy, proudly shlepping them in tow. Priceless.



(image via NyTimes Magazine)

In: The Abramoff Mess May Inflict Damage on Both Parties. Great! Swell and lovely, The Corsair says, quite frankly. Both parties are fevered and could use some goddam reform, schnell. What we need are more radical moderates. Everyone knows that the manner in which the parties collect their filthy lucre from the lobbyists of K-Street is intolerable. Even the mild McCain-Feingold reforms have been circumvent the sheisters. According to the Washington Post (link via Wonkette):

"Lobbyist Jack Abramoff and an associate famously collected $82 million in lobbying and public relations fees from six Indian tribes and devoted a lot of their time to trying to persuade Republican lawmakers to act on their clients' behalf.

"But Abramoff didn't work just with Republicans. He oversaw a team of two dozen lobbyists at the law firm Greenberg Traurig that included many Democrats. Moreover, the campaign contributions that Abramoff directed from the tribes went to Democratic as well as Republican legislators.

"Among the biggest beneficiaries were Capitol Hill's most powerful Democrats, including Thomas A. Daschle (S.D.) and Harry M. Reid (Nev.), the top two Senate Democrats at the time, Richard A. Gephardt (Mo.), then-leader of the House Democrats, and the two lawmakers in charge of raising funds for their Democratic colleagues in both chambers, according to a Washington Post study. Reid succeeded Daschle as Democratic leader after Daschle lost his Senate seat last November."

To be continued ...



(image via TheBosh)

Out: Tom Cruise, Freak of the Week. That high pitched whistling sound you hear across the chattering class landscape? Tom Cruise's career deflating like a balloon. How did he become such a freak (link via WorldofWonder)? Of The Cruiser we have written in the past:

"Tom Cruise's on-screen persona, which Artie Lang, the Howard Stern sidekick, acutely observed, was 'too contrived,' wore on our last nerve as well.

"Too much fucking vanity was being projected from those hawkish eyes and that studied, plastic, boyish-cocky grin. It was indeed time for a makeover.

"Tom Cruise was Brian Flanagan, the best damn drink slinger; we knew him as Cole Trickle, the best damn race car driver; he was fucking Maverick, and, as we all know, 'Mav' was the best damn fighter pilot in the US Air Force (Averted Gaze); he was Ethan Hunt, the best damn covert agent; he was even Detective John Anderton in Minority Report, the best damn detective, with the help of those eerie Precog's (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment); let's face it, throughout the 80s and 90s, Tom Cruise was the best damn everything. So mighty was his desire to be worshipped as "lo ultimo" by the hoi polloi.

"Of course, there is a backlash to wanting -- needing, really -- to project oneself onto the American consciousness as an icon of perfection, the epitome of excellence, and the backlash is a bitch. We, infected with the virus 'democratic leveling,' as the eminent American observer Alexis Henri Charles Maurice, Count de Tocqueville, described it, wanted to tear him down. That is a drawback of a democracy that emphasizes equality over an aristocratic hierarchy and the concept of excellence."

This goes a long way in explaining why Tom Cruise's media meltdown is the conversation of all manner of precincts high and low in America.



(image via fashionweekdaily)

In: Dom Perignon's Vintage 1998 bottle. Equinophile Karl Lagerfeld and Helena Christenson attended the unveiling of the vintage bottle of the bubbly. According to Fashionweekdaily:

"Leave it to Lagerfeld to make a fashionably late entrance. 'I'm waiting for Karl,' quipped one photographer who had been there since the event started. 'I spend half my life waiting for Karl.' And soon after the evening's most celebrated guest arrived and took his seat at his center VIP table, the center of the bar rose amidst trumpets to reveal the night's other VIP guest: the new bottle. And surrounding the new bubbly were a dozen or so life-sized images that Lagerfeld photographed for Dom Perignon at his ornate home in Paris. 'He certainly captured some of my sensual sides,' said a Chanel-clad Helena Christensen."

(The Corsair swoons) We ... also would like to, as Helena put it, "capture her sensual sides."



(image via ilgorp)

Out: "The Theme is Team." What is with CBS News' experimenting with multiple anchors? Is this some sort of homage to postmodernism? Is CBS News "evolving" like Governor Mitt Romney's position on abortion? Of course it will fail. How could it not? Just put on Jon Stewart already. Or a show with rotating bloggers discussing the days news. The Corsair is free, coincidentally, between 6 and 6:30. According to the LA Times (link via Iwantmedia):

"Speaking at the network's annual affiliate meeting here, (CBS News President Andrew Heyward) said CBS would begin experimenting this summer with new elements to build on changes already made by interim anchor Bob Schieffer. Heyward said that Schieffer's folksy give-and-take with the network's correspondents offered a hint of what CBS would ultimately unveil.

"'The strategy for reforming and revitalizing the evening news begins with a simple idea: The theme is team,' Heyward said. 'We are showcasing a team of experienced, energetic journalists who present the world from multiple points of view, not a dominant anchor surrounded by a bunch of people you don't know and don't care about.'"



Above: The ultimate New York power couple. (image via Nysocialdiary)

In: Power Couples. Power couples are all around us, dahling, sucking up all the oxygen out of the room. There arenaissance a rennaissance in "power coupling." The previous generation's "trophy wife" is to be eschewed for the socially equal partner in generating media buzz.

Look over there: There's that fountain of "poised, creamy insincerity," Diane Sawyer, who is almost the undisputed alpha female of the morning and her husband, Oscar-Emmy-Tony award winner Mike Nichols(That bastard has 14 goddamn nominations for Monte Python on Sunday's Tony's). There's Beyonce and Jay Z and Justin and Cameron. In Washington there's the ubiquitous Mary Matalin and her outspoken fella James Carville. And who can forget Baby Boomer power couple Bill and Hillary Clinton. The Senator, by the way, had an "event" -- cough, cough "Presidentialfundraiser," cough --- at Warner Brothers chief Alan Horn's pad for the Hollywood Monied set.

There's Ellen and Portia, television power couple. There's Hollywood royalty Brian Grazer and Gigi Lavigne Grazer. But most of all there is the uber Power couple, the prototype of the genre: Les Moonves and Julie Chen. Power couples are in, baby.

Picture Pages, Picture Pages ...



Above: "Here's to good friends, tonight is kind of special. The drink will pour, tonight is something more. Tonight, tonight, let it be... peasant blood" (image via NYSocialDiary)



Above: Now I lay me down to sleep ... I pray the Lord ... my soul to keep ... and if I die before I wake ... let it be in the arms of a "well appointed" Japanese boy with sweet breath. (image via Drudgereport)



Above: "I don't have time for this Hollywood scene shit. In the hour that I've been here I could have already beaten up two members of an ethnic minority." (image via VLife)



Above: "Morpheus is a fictional character, my good man! If you punch me, I will most certainly die." (image via VLife)

Jerry Springer Hearts Natalie Portman



(image via the Sydney Herald Sun)

Curious that someone as thoroughly lowest-common-denominator louche as "Jer" Springer (Averted Gaze) would get his panties in a twist over a natural aristocrat like Natalie Portman. But, to paraphrase Woody Allen, "the loins want what the loins want." Or something to that effect.

Why would someone as oily as "Jer" want to soil so elegant a wildflower such as La Portman? Hasn't Springer already done enough to this once-proud democracy? Isn't everybody's IQ just a little bit lower since the introduction of the future Ohio Senator's talk show? Are there no more men who marry horses to occupy Jerry's dance card? Does Springer have a congenital inclination to despoil all that is infused with the beautiful on this "big blue marble"? Leave her alone, we say! According to Lloyd Grove's Lowdown:

"Does Jerry Springer nurse a forbidden lust for Natalie Portman?

"At Wednesday night's party for his new weekday Air America show, 'Springer on the Radio,' the 61-year-old trash-television host sounded positively gaga over the 23-year-old 'Star Wars' starlet.

"'Natalie Portman is really bright, and if I was allowed to have one crush, it would be her,' Springer told Lowdown.

"Portman's PR rep responded: 'I am not going anywhere near this whole thing.'"

Even in the most vicious of rejections, Our Natalie remains demure.

The Kevin Spacey Reality Show



(image via Premiere)

Our favorite Oscar winner who went on to do such klunkers as the hideously evil K-Pax and the godawful "Pay It Forward" (Averted Gaze) is now moving from the august confines of Shakespeare's Globe Theater to the ... reality tv ghetto. Charmed, I'm sure. (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) The ghastly bad "Beyond the Sea" will be duly forgotten. According to that significant cultural artifact The National Enquirer:

"Kevin Spacey has been tapped as host and mentor of a new reality series on TLC entitled 'Going Hollywood.' The eight episode series will premiere this fall. In the series, Spacey will show some showbiz interns how to make it in Hollywood."

We're so there, Kevy. In fact, we can imagine what it would be like. For example, if an earnest young intern asked how he could drum up buzz for his latest project, Kevin Spacey might counsel him or her to troll around London Parks at 4:30 AM to "walk your dog" (wink, wink). Then, after being mugged, concoct a bizarre story about being conned into handing over your mobile phone to some young, strapping, no doubt "mussular" British thug who gives "some sob story about somebody needing to call their mother and could they use my phone." (Averted Gaze) At 4:30 AM?! Whatever.

Apologize profusely and just watch the press knock themselves over in the ensuing frenzy.

We're so there, Kevy.

Aside. A Little Story A Propos of Nothing in particular: My old High School friend, Vladimir N, who was going out with this French girl, Caleroy. Cal's parents were racist and couldn't stand the fact that her French Upper Class daughter was dating this ... Haitian ... musician!! Quelle horreur! The fact that Haiti used to be a colony of France only strengthened Mother's resolve.

Knowing that Caleroy was sexually naive Mother used this to her advantage. So, Calleroy's mother -- and I would not fucking make this us to you, guys -- told her that she shouldn't see Vladimir because ... black people have tails!

This Noble Lie backfired, however, as our Caleroy became more and more curious as to what a black tail looked like. Human curiosity to the rescue! Vladimir gladly showed her the error of her mother's report, and, I suppose, in the process, Calleroy saw something she liked during the demonstration, and, well, let's just say her mother's worst nightmare was made real.

Very, very real, if, in fact, Vladimir's morning after testimony was accurate and not lagniappe. Who would have known that the French people could be such freaks? I don't know why I remembered that just now or why I am putting it along with a Kevin Spacey post ... but, in the end, Vladimir did get his tail after all -- so to speak.

A Little of the Old In and Out



Above: The married couple (image via Hello!Magazine)

In: The Bismarck Wedding. The great-great-granddaughter of the first chancellor of the German Empire, Vanessa von Bismarck married 35-year-old Maximilian Weiner this past weekend. Vanessa von Bismarck�?s wedding to Maximilian Weiner was attended by Euan Rellie, Plum Sykes, Lucy Sykes Rellie, Countess Gunilla vonBismarckk, Dayssi Olarte de Kanavos, and John and Meredith Melling Burke among the other usual Euro-boldface suspects. According to Jim Shi at Fashionweekdaily:

"The 90-degree weather is over, the Hungarian costumes have been put away, and by all accounts, Vanessa von Bismarck's wedding this past weekend to Maximilian Weiner was a smashing success. The nuptials, which took place at von Bismarck's estate in Hamburg, Germany, featured what guests described as extremely memorable and well thought-out speeches, a ceremony that was deemed beautiful and chic ('There was just so much love there,' said one attendee), not to mention a radiant bride, who wore Derek Lam couture. The last song at the wedding was 'Love Is In The Air,' and, according to guests, it perfectly summed up the event. 'Everyone around you had a title,' said another guest. 'And everything was von Bismarck this and von Bismarck that the church was a von Bismarck chapel, and we drank von Bismarck water and von Bismarck wine.'"

" ... The newlyweds called it quits at around 5am to depart for their month-long honeymoon to Africa."



(image via Rethinkpink)

Out: Donatella Versace. Surviving on a diet of Vegetable Crudités, champagne and "Bolivian Marching Powder" takes it's toll on the human body. Just ask Donatella Versace. This chestnut from Popbitch reader "Honeysuckler":

"I dined next to Donatella Versace at Yauatcha recently. She was very orange, very thin and wearing a bleached wig. She was surrounded by male hangers on and had a security guard, complete with earpiece, follow her wherever she went, including standing guard outside the toilets. I was in the bogs and found her desperately grappling to open the cubicle door so helped her with it. Then I went in, snorted my lines of coke, reapplied my make-up and came out, only to find that she was still in the cubicle as she couldn't get out. After yanking the door open for her, she smiled her thanks, and returned to her table. She ate nothing but visited the loo three times."



(image via lowculture)

In: John Edwards 2008. Although he didn't make much of a difference on the ticket in 2004 (One could argue he was deliberately underutilized by the Kerry camp) and he failed to put Cheney's lights out during their contentious Veep debate, John Edwards still has correct game. In fact, he is the second most buzzed about candidate on the Dem side for 2008. According to TheHill:

"Edwards hails from the South, as has every Democrat to win the White House since John Kennedy. That is why several of the cognoscenti, such as John Podesta, head of the Center for American Progress, a liberal think tank, put Edwards among the front-runners.

"But Podesta, who is close to Clinton and who served as chief of staff in her husband's White House, may have an ulterior motive. He puts Edwards ahead of Evan Bayh (D), a second-term senator from Indiana and former, two-term governor.

"Bayh outperformed President Bush in the Hoosier State, which Bush carried with 60 percent of the vote. Edwards and Bayh are expected to contend for the 'not-Hillary' label in the primaries, in which Clinton will be painted as uncompetitive in 'red states.'

"Edwards's camp trumpets a Marist College poll from April showing that, while Edwards trails Clinton and Kerry by 24 points and two points, respectively, in a Democratic primary match-up, Edwards fairs better than either against the two early Republican front-runners, former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani and Sen. John McCain (Ariz.)."

Frankly, The Corsair doesn't think Edwards, who is tremendously charismatic but lacks experience in government, is going anywhere. He's too lightweight at present. A pleasing, honeymouthed lightweight. Edwards is still young, though, and would be better served perhaps reading up on Presidential biographies and world history and writing weighty papers for the foreign policy journals finally running for Governor of North Carolina, or, alternately serving a while as Duke University's president before making a White House run. Edwards has plenty of time and his wife has cancer, besides. We think it will be a Clinton-Bayh-Richardson race down to the wire. Still, we cannot deny that Edwards has buzz on his side.



(image via NASA)

Out: Marx Sizemore, Barber from Hell. According to TheSmokingGun:

"Former Apollo astronaut Neil Armstrong is threatening to sue an Ohio barber who once cut his hair and then sold the locks to a collector. Armstrong, the first man to walk on the moon, is steamed at Marx Sizemore, who peddled the shorn hair for $3000 last May. Now, according to the below May 17 letter from Armstrong's attorney, the ex-astronaut wants Sizemore to retrieve the hair or contribute his proceeds from the sale to charity (Armstrong also wants to be reimbursed for his legal expenses). Ross Wales, Armstrong's lawyer, contends that the 35-year-old Sizemore's tonsorial hijinks violated a state law protecting the 'persona rights' of famous Ohioans. Sizemore, who used to cut Armstrong's hair monthly at his Lebanon shop, told TSG that he did not initiate the hair sale, but rather was approached by Todd Mueller, a Colorado memorabilia dealer."

In: Robert Johnson's Retirement. The Corsair is of two minds about the retirement of Robert Johnson. On the one hand, he started BET. On the other hand, well, he started BET.

Do they even have actual programming on BET? Every infomercial and snake oil salesman of a "preacher" appears to have leased time on the station.

A brief story. In 1999 I was an editor at the now defunct Silicon Alley Daily. 1999 was the last good year of The Alley. Money was pouring in from venture capitalists and champagne was flowing from the waitstaff. Every night was a different launch party. Just about tech CEO wanted their company to be one of the Silicon Alley Reporter 100. You wouldn't believe what some proposalsropsals entailed from publicists wanting to get their companies on that list. As an editor, I had a vote in the matter.

For a month I lobbied hard for Robert Johnson and BET.com to be included in the rankings and made my arguments at the Editorial meetings. My resolve was singular. BET.com was the major African-American portal on the web, and, although it wasn't on anyone's radar, it ought to have been included in the rankings. I was definitely doing BET a favor in those meetings.

I was ultimately victorious. So, I contact Robert Johnson three months in advance to make sure Johnson can fly in to make the photo shoot (Sam Donaldson, Zoe Baird and Lou Dobbs, among other billionaires and tech celebrities showed up for the influential gathering). Johnson's assistant all but assured me that Johnson was going to show.

Cue to the week before the event. Johnson decides not to show. No excuse was given, nothing better to do, just no. Totally ghetto. Since then, The Corsair has regarded Johnson as a sort of mixed blessing. C'est tout.

"(Snoop Dogg) Beat Me Like A Slave"



Above: Snoop Dogg's entourage relieve an errant stage jumper of his consciousness. (image via MSNBC)

So, we were watching the video footage of the brawl where Snoop Dogg's entourage deliver what can only be properly construed as a "proper ass-whipping with all the trimmings" to this guy who popped up on stage during a concert. As Snoop is singing and sipping Alize merrily, said individual suddenly hops onto the stage, strolls over and loops a lithe arm around Snoop's shoulder as if they were each others' boys.

Bad idea.

Snoop Dogg never struck us as the type of guy who welcomed friendly advances from gentlemen while working onstage and sipping at the pimp juice. The Alize spilled quite poetically, and time froze for a second; suddenly, like clockwork -- orange? -- a thuggish member of Snoop's entourage entered the fray with bad intentions in his "bowlegged" step.

A well-placed haymaker to the "breadbasket" briskly dropped the amiable duff on his rear. After he fell, the entourage proceeded to kick and pummel him, godspeeding him on his journey to a deep and meaningful slumber.

To add insult to injury, they proceeded to rob him. The Corsair shits you not. It is precisely as The Corsair has said. Onstage. On camera. In front of thousands. They robbed his hapless ass. Allegedly. Damned cheek!

Then the footage stopped. According to the AP:

"King County sheriffs deputies are investigating a concertgoer's claim that he was severely beaten onstage during a performance by Snoop Dogg at the White River Amphitheatre.
Richard Monroe, 24, said performers had encouraged him to climb on the stage at Saturday's concert at the amphitheater near Auburn, which also featured The Game.

"Some performers and others on the stage kicked and punched him, poured alcohol on him, ripped out his diamond earrings and stole his watch, cell phone and wallet, Monroe said.

"'They beat me like a slave,' he told the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. 'It's horrible. They just went too far.'"

The Corsair sees courtroom appearances and oily Cochran-like legal persona's surrounding young Richard Monroe, aged 24. A bit of advice from one who is somewhat media-savvy and aware of how certain words ring in the mind. Lose the "slave" line. It makes The Corsair want to rule in favor of Snoop right off the bat, ab initio.

A Little of the Old In and Out

(image via ehrensteinland)

In: Pat Kingsley. When Tom Cruise decided to appear "less contrived" and more "urban," he publicly disassociated himself with his over-competent and waay-to-efficient handler of 14 years, Pat Kingsley, and went instead in a new direction, namely -- his sister, one Lee Anne DeVette. (Averted Gaze) Now, it appears, Kingsley is having the last laugh, according to Radar Online:

"Tom Cruise's over-the-top exclamations of love for rumored fiance Katie Holmes have his agents at CAA scrambling to congratulate him with the best gift they can think of: a gag order.

"Ever since the actor's disastrous appearance with his girlfriend of one month on Oprah, sources say his top wranglers at the agency, Rick Nicita and Kevin Huvane, have been frantically pleading with Cruise's sister/manager Lee Anne DeVette to 'rein Tom in.'

"'Kevin watched the show and was embarrassed for Tom,' says one agency insider. 'He called Rick immediately and said something had to be done.' The pair then phoned DeVette who took over her brother's famously well-oiled PR machine from PMK/HBH potentate Pat Kingsley earlier this year and read her the riot act, demanding that no further tapes of Cruise's T.J. Mackey-esque performance on Oprah be released. Huvane also put in a delicate call to Cruise, reminding his suddenly soul-bearing client that 'restraint can be a good thing.' Sources say Huvane blames DeVette for allowing her brother to spin 'out of control' on her watch ..."

"... Inside sources say Kingsley is so amused by DeVette's many missteps that she's been using them as object lessons for her junior publicists on how to ruin a well-choreographed career.

"'Tom has looked like a lot of things, but he's never looked like a joke,' another source notes."

The full story.



(image via Newyorkmetro)

Out: Tinsley Mortimer. Our favorite overpriviledged picklehead, Tins Mortimer (Apologies to Cindy Adams, who clawed her way from ingenue-nobody to World Class picklehead all on her own "onions") is on the loose and causing "mayhem"; ruckus, even. Charmed, I'm sure. According to our pals at fashionweekdaily:

"The Hamptons are bound to become even more fashionable this summer as (Tinsley) Mortimer has signed on to be a correspondent for Plum Television. Wearing a bright coral tank top and rolled-up jeans, the Southampton resident recently taped her first segment on bathing suits, which aired this past weekend. She plans to tackle a new fashion theme/trend each week, and all products will be available locally in the Hamptons. Never mind that she has to wake up at 6am every Saturday. 'The scariest part is that it's live,' she said."

Live? That's kind of subjective depending on where you stand, Tins. From our perspective, for example, the prospect of a Tinsley Mortimer show seems rather dead to us.



In: The Star Spangles. We like the guys in The Star Spangles. We'd like them even if they didn't link to us on their website referring to this blog as a fellow traveller. We dig the attention. It makes us feel ... important. The feeling, by the way, is mutual, guys.

The Corsair needs an official rock band to play up and make our own. That would be an interesting saga in the Corsair Media Domination Tour (TM), no? Anyhoo, The Star Spangles are playing Asbury Park on Saturday, June 4th, my birthday. That is as good a reason to trek to jersey as you're ever going to get from me. So, maybe we should go check them out.



(image via warnerborthers)

Out: Chad Lowe. Born-to-be-mild "Beta Male" Chad Lowe is ... well, whatever it is that he is, he's not hott. He's "nonthreatening." Hott would be his wife, Hillary Swank, hilbilly turned covergirl and two time Oscar winner. And Chad's okay with that. It's not about the ego with him. He makes sure to have a cocktail waiting for Hill when she gets in in the evenings and if he doesn't mix it right, Hill cuffs him about the ears. It's all good.

Chad's lukewarm, noncompetitive, we guess. Low testosterone count, we suppose. Whatever. That's his story.

Anyway, this, according to that significant cultural artifact The National Enquirer:

"Chad Lowe is keeping just as busy as his Oscar winning actress Hilary Swank. He's in a Hallmark Channel movie entitled 'Fielder's Choice.' The story is about a bachelor who has to become guardian of his 8-year-old nephew."

We're sure we'll find something better to do on whatever night that this little chestnut is stinking up the airwaves. Like, say, watching our plants produce oxygen for one. That's a fate less soul destroying than having to sit through a "telemovie" (Averted Gaze) on the Hallmark Channel.

Inside Deep Throat, or How Graydon Scooped Ben Bradlee



(image via emol.org)

The story behind how VF scooped the Washington Post is almost as interesting as the actual scoop. We can already hear Howie Kurtz's urgent moans of journalistic ecstasy all the way from DC (Gee, guess what this weeks Reliable Sources will be dedicated to? Hmm?). From Tom Scocca of the salmon colored weekly:

"The small circle of staffers who edited and laid out the story signed non-disclosure agreements, said David Friend, the magazine�s editor of creative development and the editor of the piece.
Mr. Friend said that he and editor Graydon Carter had dummied the piece into the July issue under the working title 'Wig,' a semi-allusion to 'Watergate.'

"'Graydon and I would refer to it as Wig," Mr. Friend said. 'We would say W for Woodward. We would say The Guy for Felt.'"

In a city that has a reputation of not keeping secrets, it is amazing that the identity of Deep Throat was kept on the down low for so many years. What's more, it is astonishing mediawise that The Washington Post -- the paper that actually sunk Nixon and cooperated with Deep Throat -- could be scooped on his identity by a monthly magazine. Ponderous! According to The Old Gray Lady:

"'As we got close to publication, we faced a conundrum,' (Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter) wrote. 'If we called Woodward, assistant managing editor of The Post, to verify the identity of Deep Throat, he could rush into print his own article about the source's identity, well in advance of our own. Checking the story with his former partner Carl Bernstein (a Vanity Fair contributing editor) posed a similar problem.'

"So, Mr. Carter wrote, 'we didn't call either of them - realizing that for 33 years they have consistently refused to divulge their source's name anyway - and we chose, instead, to verify the facts surrounding this amazing tale of intrigue and courage as best we could, using alternative and overlapping sources.'"

And quoth Ben Bradlee:

"'It really landed on us,' said Benjamin C. Bradlee, The Post's executive editor during the Watergate era. 'I had no idea it was coming.'"

Somewhere in Georgetown, the social overlord Sally Quinn is braining Ben Bradlee, screaming at him for dropping the motherfucking ball. And, Nora Ephron, the ex of the philandering Carl Bernstein, (so ably played by Meryl Streep in "Heartburn"), riffs in The HuffPost (link via WowReport, the creators -- ironically enough -- of "Inside Deep Throat") about it all. And Woodward is rushing his own tome out.

We can't wait for Thursday's Washington Post

Picture Pages, Picture Pages ...



Above: Uber-creepy Val Kilmer plays sucky face utilizing his infamous Val-Super-Overacting-Intensity (TM) in the London production of The Postman Always Rings Twice. (image via Hello!Magazine)



Above: "And so, in the end, I could not have ever been known by the tender sobriquet 'Deep Throat.' The adjective 'Deep' ... does not do justice to my wonderous capacity of sucking up."(image via laskerfoundation)