Candace Bushnell Describes "Bozack" as "Small..."



(image via theage)

Candace Bushnell has such wonderful euphemisms for the "wenis." In fact, Candy's cunning linguistics suggest more than just a passing familiarity on the subject (Averted Gaze). In "Sex and the City" there was, to be sure, "Mr. Big." Now, in her latest scribblings she inadvertently (?) makes another funny at the alleged expense of Conde Nast magnate Si Newhouse. According to Lloyd Grove's Lowdown, Newhouse is one "Walter Bozack" in Lipstick Jungle."

While we wouldn't deign to presume that Upper East Side party girl Candace Bushnell knew the early 90s street slang for "Bozack," this story from Lloyd Grove was disgustingly intriguing:

"Bushnell - whose model for 'Sex and the City's' Mr. Big was said to be former Conde Nast exec Ron Galotti - describes Bozack as 'small and uncannily rodent like.'"

(Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) Grove continues:

"Nobody I talked to about Bushnell's satire would agree to be quoted by name, but one prominent magazine editor told me: 'Very few people are brave enough to describe a certain magazine magnate quite so accurately.'"

Oh dear. Not a savvy career move. We didn't say it.

Prince William's Geography (Zzz) Degree



All those untold centuries of moist inbreeding in musty wine cellars have not, apparently, impaired the neural synapses of HRH William. No, the successive histories of romantic "cousin love" 'gainst the Rembrandt in the Orange room by firelight (Sigh) did not entirely obliviate the possibility of an intelligent offspring. According to those glorious royalfuckers at Hello!Magazine:

"Prince William out-achieved other members of the royal family yesterday, receiving a 2:1 in his geography Master of Arts degree from St Andrews."

Zzzzzzzzz ...

"'William got an upper second class honours,' confirmed a Clarence House spokesperson. 'He's delighted. Everyone is absolutely delighted. His father is very proud.' The 22-year-old prince pipped the academic record of other members of the royal family, including his father Prince Charles, who received a 2:2, or lower second class honours degree, in history from Trinity College, Cambridge.

"William's uncle, Prince Edward, earned a similar grade in the same subject as a student at Jesus College, Cambridge. Like other students at the prestigious Scottish university, the 22-year-old Prince logged on to a website to find out the results of his MA, for which he'd written a 10,000-word dissertation on the coral reefs of Rodrigues."

10,000 words on the coral reefs of Rodrigues, you say. Boring as that sounds, those coral reefs are probably a hundred thousand times more interesting a subject than the similarly marginally sentient Claudia Schiffer.

Picture Pages, Picture Pages ...




Above: Varieties of Religious Mantan. (image via NYSocialDiary)

A Little of the Old In and Out

In: Impromptu Breast Examinations. First, Jimmy Fallon copped a cheap and lecherous feel off of Sandra Bullock's dirty pillows at the MTV Awards. Now, Meghan Mullaly and Debra Messing (above) are getting into the soulful squeezing act.

Out: Russell Crowe. Wasn't it startling how The Corsair predicted the feral Crowe episode? Anyway, he's at it again, according to the most excellent Ben Widdicombe's Gatecrasher: "Russell Crowe is defending himself against more allegations of abuse, this time at a meat-pie shop in Sydney. 'Yes, I was pissed off, but the pie was horrible,' Crowe admitted to the Sydney Morning Herald yesterday. 'I wasn't happy with the pie and I asked what had happened to the quality level.' But he denied the Asian attendant's claim that the Oscar winner told her: 'Do you know who I am? You should know this is not your country.'"

The restaurant mistook Russell Crowe for Homo Sapien, a common mistake (He is actually "Crowe Magnon"), and, unfortunately baked the meat-pie. We suspect he prefers his viande raw.

In: Washington Fight Club. The partisan fighting in DC is like a goddamn conflagration. They ought to have weight divisions. We thought McCain had brought back the love to the imperial city. No dice. This week, journo's got a bit huffy with each other trying to cover -- ironically -- a full-court media showing of "manly love" between DNC Chair Howard Dean and Senate Minority Leader Harry Reid.

Later in the week, Congressman Sensenbrenner threw proper parliamentary procedure to the wind and cut the mics on Democrats ("You can talk to the hand, my right honorable bitches"). Quoth TheHill:

"A House Judiciary Committee hearing on the renewal of the Patriot Act turned ugly this morning after Chairman James Sensenbrenner (R-Wis.) gaveled the proceedings to a close over the objections of Democrats. Democrats continued to make statements and witnesses continued to offer testimony even after Sensenbrenner had left the room.

"C-SPAN cameras were still rolling as the committee's majority staff rushed to turn off microphones and lights on the Democrats, prompting the television crews to break out boom mics.

"... Rep. Jerry Nadler (D-N.Y.), one of the Democrats who kept the hearing going after Sensenbrenner left, said, 'At the end, I wanted to make a statement. I sought recognition, but the chairman declared the hearing adjourned. I said, point of order, and he just got up and walked out.'"

Out: Debt Interest Payments. The World Bank and the IMF, like most international organizations, do not distinguish between the governmental forms of nation-states with regards to their respective lending policies. Those fine distinctions -- democracy, autocracy, monarchy, whatever -- are not good for business. So, ostensibly, a sociopathic tyrant could, oh, say, borrow a few billion dollars. Now, when said tyrant gets overthrown as he invariably always is, it is the country, and not the tyrant, that has to pay off the debt. The tyrant goes off to his Belgian chateau and Swiss whores funded by the billions he borrowed/pilfered.

And so an ugly cycle begins. The cash poor nation becomes more and more dependent and is unable to create growth, as they annually service the debts. No longer. According to Africasia.com:

"The G8, comprising Britain, Canada, France, Germany, Italy, Japan, Russia and the United States, agreed to immediately write off 40 billion dollars ... of debt owed by 18 countries to the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the African Development Bank.

"The 18 nations comprised: Benin, Bolivia, Burkina Faso, Ethiopia, Ghana, Guyana, Honduras, Madagascar, Mali, Mauritania, Mozambique, Nicaragua, Niger, Rwanda, Senegal, Tanzania, Uganda and Zambia.

"Uganda, which spends up to 200 million dollars to service its debt annually, is one of the 18 nations that would benefit from the programme."

Three cheers to Bush and Blair. And, quite frankly, the saintly Sir Bob Geldoff (Nobel Committee, are you reading this?), who brought this issue to the attention of the British public, they responded enthusiastically, the embattled Blair took it upon himself (And his battered legacy) to bring it to Bush's attention, who, finally, made it all happen. God bless Bob Geldof.

This Hillary Moment

(image via yale)

Senator Hillary Clinton and The Oily Art of the Beverly Hills A-List fundraiser go together like, well, like Bill Maher and skanks. It's a natural collabo, dahling.

The Corsair is not trying to impose any "on-the-DL" irony when we put quotations around Senator Clinton's Senate Reelection -- cough, cough, Presidential, cough, cough -- Campaign. Heaven forfend. No matter how dubious it seems that the distinguished Senator from New York needs to raise this much cash for a relatively safe Senate seat, we believe it when she says she's not decided on the Presidency yet. (Averted Gaze) Insinuating a Presidential run is the job of Radar:

"Meanwhile, with the Battle for Barack in stalemate, Hillary has been courting another Democratic comer to add some color to her projected ticket. At a private dinner last week at Westwood One CEO Norm Pattiz�s Beverly Hills mansion, Hillary schmoozed some of L.A.�s biggest Dem donors but saved her best moves for the city�s mayor-elect Antonio Villaraigosa. A guest at the dinner says Clinton gushed over Villaraigosa and grabbed multiple photo ops with the rising Latino pol. 'The fact is,' says the guest, 'Hillary knows she�ll need Villaraigosa to capitalize on the Hispanic vote. She�s getting her licks in way before any of the other Dems.'

"Hill�s West Coast jaunt also generated some much-needed green. Combined with proceeds from a young Hollywood fundraiser earlier that evening�attended by Christina Aguilera and Lindsay Lohan�sources say Hilary walked away with a cool $1 million for her 'senate re-election' campaign. The dough will most likely be put toward an exploratory committee in 2006 when Clinton is expected to officially declare her candidacy."



(image via WolvertonMountain.com)

Cantankeous meany and masterful insider journo Robert Novak agrees somewhat with that assessment:

"Party insiders in Washington and New York, including many who ran the last two losing Democratic presidential campaigns, say they have never before seen anything like the way Clinton has sewn up the nomination. In particular, they say, she has cornered Eastern money in a way nobody else ever has done at such an early date.

"At a dinner party in a private room of a Los Angeles restaurant attended by eight Democratic politicians, I was asked to assess the political scene. I concluded with a preview of the distant events of 2008. While there had not been so open a race for the Republican nomination since 1940, I said, Clinton was dominant for the Democrats. For someone who is neither an incumbent president nor vice president to have apparently locked the nomination so early is without precedent."

Next week Senators Evan Bayh and Clinton will have a "coal miner's glove" match over who gets the Western States and their respective -- ahem -- "reelection" campaigns (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment).

Tom Cruise: Crazy Like a Fuck?



(image via jpnn)

In this week's Entertainment Weekly we are indeed entertained as The Cruiser attempts to get all "up in our bitch" and debunk modern psychoanalytical theory singlehanded. Maverick fails mightily, going out in a flame of glory, but not without breaking us off some unintended hilarity in the process, to wit:

"EW: Are you aware that your views about psychiatry come across as pretty radical to a lot of people?

"The Cruiser: In the 1980s you were supposed to say no to drugs. But when I say no to drugs, I'm a radical? 'He's against drugs, he's a radical! He's against electroshock treatments -- he's a radical' (Laughing) It's absurd.

"EW: Yeah, but Scientology textbooks sometimes refer to psychology as a 'Nazi science' ...

"The Cruiser: Well, look at the history. Jung was an editor for the Nazi papers during World War II (According to Aryeh Mandelbaum, the director of the New York Center for Jungian Studies, this is not true). Look at the experimentation the Nazi's did with electric shock and drugging. Look at the drug Methodone. That was originally called Adolphine. It was named after Adolph Hitler. (According to the Dictionary of Drugs and Medications, among other sources, this is an urban legend)."

WTF?!!

Bonnie Fuller's Haunting Silence



(image via ISurvivedBonnie)

Medialifemagazine runs an interesting interview with our favorite untamed media shrew, the notorious Bonnie Fuller. The Corsair pass over in bemused silence the all-too-easy throwaway line "David Pecker ... in growth mode," because, quite frankly, erections are a personal matter, and if high circulation rates are David's own private Viagra, well (sotto voce): so much the better.

But we digress. The subject is Star Magazine, an institution which is not above outright stealing from this blog and not even bothering to apologize. The interview with Fuller begins with a series of ah, eccentric answers, like the promise that Star Magazine will "focus on strong and aggressive reporting, the kind of reporting that enabled it to break stories like the O.J. Simpson shoe." (Averted Gaze; Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) Then, all of a sudden, like a bolt from the blue, as the interview was winding down, things got rather ... "saucy":

"Medialifemagazine: You have a reputation for being a demanding, hard-to-please boss. There was even an active 'I Survived Bonnie' Yahoo! Group where your former employees griped about their experiences working for you. Are you really as tough as they say you are?

"Bonnie Fuller: [no comment]"

Oh, come on wee Bonnie lass, enquiring minds want to know.

A Little of the Old In and Out



(image via NYSocialDiary)

In: Richard Johnson and Sessa Von Richthofen. The Corsair extends the warmest congratulations to Il Maestro on the occasion of his engagement. According to Fashionweekdaily (link via FishbowlNy):

"The 51-year old editor of the New York Post's daily gossip fest, Page Six, proposed to his girlfriend of a handful of years late Tuesday night, and she happily accepted. But that was not before von Richthofen, who's about 20 years his junior, thought he was joking. According to a friend, the proposal happened around 2am and at first, von Richthofen thought he was pulling her leg. 'Where's the ring then?' she asked satirically, not expecting Johnson to pull out the bauble, which is exactly what he did."

We wish all the happiness in the world to he who has given us so much gossiping pleasure over the years. (Hoists a glass of fizzy) Cheers, Richard.



Above: "Bitch done set me up." (image via freenet)

Out: Late Night Damage Control. Although The Corsair recognizes that this trend of "late night damage control" is on the upswing and even gaining in momentum, it is as phony a ploy as when Hugh Grant started it all (gently apologizing for receiving "the thwarted beej" from a lady-of-the-night).

It goes something like this: Baby does a bad, bad thing. Baby is on the A-List and needs damage control. Said celebrity then goes on either Leno (Whom we loathe on account of his general creepiness) or Letterman (Whom we generally like on account of his angsty and honest self-doubting New Yorker comedy writer persona) to put a little positive spin on some possibly criminal activity. This we'll call: Defusing the Crisis Mode (tm).

On the surface it would appear to be a win-win situation for the observer. We get to watch the celebrity squirm, the celebrity gains forgiveness and the right to once again part us from $10 the next time their films comes out. Why is this "Out," behavior then, and not decidedly "In"?

Well, for one thing, neither Leno nor Letterman is going to particularly grill the actor on their quite possibly feloniousius "acts," as, say, 60 Minutes might, now will they? Actually, the choice of doing mea culpas on late night television, that collegium of of light banter, as opposed to, say, a hard news magazine show, offers the easiest way out of a bad career situation. Says CNN:

"Crowe appeared on David Letterman's 'Late Show' Wednesday to apologize for throwing a tantrum and telephone at a hotel concierge, and show Americans he's not always such a hothead.
"At the same time, Cruise talked to Jay Leno on 'The Tonight Show' to show fans that he may be crazy-in-love, but not crazy.

"'If there's levity surrounding it, it makes the moment a lot more palatable,' said veteran Hollywood publicist Howard Bragman of fifteenminutes.com. 'If you go on CNN, you're not going to get the laughter.'

We may get a pseudowitty "What were you thinking?" out of the deal, but that's about it.



(image via thewavemag)

In: The New IFC Center. For those of us who steadfastly believe that Adam Sandler "productions" are the soundtrack against the meting out of eternal punishment in the furnaces of Hades, there is cause for a measure happyjoy in intelligent filmgoers. (The Corsair draws on an Escudo Cubano and immediately afterwards takes a sip of Madeira, to enhance the taste)

IFC's "At The Angelica" (And with it that ultra-hott Oxonian Alison Bales) will soon move to the new IFC Center which used to house The Waverly Greenwich Village. One can never have too many independent film venues in ones city (The Corsair sniffs haughtily). According to Indiewire:

"Miranda July's 'Me and You,' fresh from its Festival de Cannes honors, will move into the 220-seat theater on the street level of the complex. In the two other theaters, a 110-seat venue and a smaller 70-seat site built above the new bar/restaurant in an adjoining building, Vanco will present a mix of new and classic programming.

"First-run films from leading specialty companies are on tap, as well as movies curated by (VP and General Manager of IFC Center John) Vanco and guest programmers. The main theater will house specialized releases, while the second screen will host the calendar programming booked in two-week runs, with the third theater for holdovers and special programming. Prior to screenings, short films will be offered instead of commercials, and a late-night midnight program is planned, not to mention morning screenings on weekends. In the Center's edit suites, Vanco plans to create pre-show entertainment to promote IFC Center programming. Clips and video can also be streamed to the many monitors on the walls of the high-tech new lobby.

"Originally the site of a church back in 1831, the location later housed a stained glass factory and even a vaudeville theater before the Waverly Theater opened. The cinema was eventually split into two theaters in the 1980s, before it was shut down a few years ago. With a massive renovation reportedly costing $8 million, architects and designers have opened up the rafters of the first theater, creating a venue that boasts plenty of legroom and comfy seats imported from France. A small permanent stage below the screen will welcome a performance by Miranda July the night before the Center opens to the public next week. The upstairs theaters are equally roomy. All three venues can screen 35mm film and HD digital video."

We're so there. IFC Center Grand Opening pics here.



Above: A face that only a mother could suckerpunch. (image via TheCobrasnake)

Out: Hipster Photoblogs. Myblogispoop gives the definitive guide on how to appear on a hipster photoblog like TheCobrasnake, all ironic-like, topless and, to be sure, "Biblically haired":

"Don't look directly at the camera, look off to the side as if to indicate that something really cool is happening. But please, don't be excited that something cool is happening.-- If you MUST look at the camera, be sure to make a pouty/kissy face. And don't try to be ironic, it won't translate.

"-- Anybody can kiss a member of the opposite sex, only cool people can pull of same sex kisses.
Caution: Ladies, don't look like you're into it, otherwise you might end up on Collegehumor instead ... and you don't want that."

So perfect. More.



Above: An industrious little freak captures "molecules" that have been in "contact" with "Brangelina," with intent to sell. (Averted Gaze) (image via eBay)

In: Celebrity Air. What a clever little hustle this freak-of-the-week has going on. The genre of celebrity "knicknacks" has some marginal chic about it. Last year some stupid ass actually sold Geri Halliwell's dog's feces on eBay UK. (Averted Gaze) Charmed, I'm sure. And then purported to sell Britney's panties, of which the less that is said the better. Now, we reach this genre's teleological Omega point, and the gang at WorldofwonderReport introduces for is the strangest eBay item ever:

"We seldom laugh out loud (that's long for LOL, you geeks), but we did at this eBay item. Screenwriter-comic-blogger-private investigator Joe Wilson was at the June 7 Westwood premiere of the Pitt-Jolie starrer, Mr & Mrs Smith, and he captured the 'celebrity air' in a mason jar."

Don't laugh, yo, the bidding on eBay is up to $1,025 as The Corsair types this in.

Rob Lowe Back to West Wing?



(image via hogwild)

For the three of us who are still fans of The West Wing there is cause for some celebration as Liz Smith reports today that Rob Lowe will be headed back to to serve once again at the pleasure of President Josiah Bartlett:

"Rob Lowe is headed back to 'The West Wing' for November sweeps � at least five episodes.

"They say it was Mr. President, Martin Sheen himself, who negotiated Rob's return. Sheen was very unhappy when Rob left the show in a dispute over salary and story line. The dotted line has not yet been signed, but the pen is hovering."

Things are finally working out for the hard partying "Billy Hixx" in the big city. We'll resist the temptation to make a poignant but snarky Dr. Vegas comment and instead paraphrase his St.Elmo's line to the effect of, "this is your time ... on the edge."

Ben Affleck's Dick Tricks



(image via GQ)

What's up with Ben Affleck and his amazing "Dick Tricks"? Why can't he just sheath his horn of plenty? Once again, alleged *actor* Ben Affleck hath exposed some unsuspecting thespian to his dirty little "wenis" on the set of some film destined to stink up the box office something ferocious.

Poor Christina Applegate once had to endure the indignity of Affleck's "stuff" while filming that noxious "Surviving Christmas" (An mighty indignity all on its own, we cannot fail to mention). Now, according to those intrepid Page Sixxies:

"BEN Affleck can get a little nutty around his buddy Kevin Smith. The 'Jersey Girl' director tells Maxim U.K. that during filming of the 2004 flop, Affleck used to pull a prank called a 'Fruit Basket.' Smith explains: 'I'd be sitting in the director's chair and I'd be watching a playback, and he'd stand behind me. Every once in a while I'd feel something on my neck. I'd be like, What the [bleep] was that? And I'd turn around and he'd have his [scrotum] out and resting on my neck."
Why call that a "Fruit Basket" when the perfect opportunity presents itself to be stupendously pretentious as well as downright vulgar. "Fruit Basket," indeed. Rather, we'd call such an act ... bestowing an "Honore de Balls Sac"

"I was like, What the [bleep] is wrong with you, dude? What if it got out in the press that that's the kind of thing you do? He's like, No one would ever [bleeping] believe you, sir."

Oh, we believe it, freakshow *The Corsair shudders*: we believe it.

That Jesse Helms Memoir



(image via Nato.int)

What an ignorant, bigoted ass is former Senator Jesse Helms. When last we saw this fuckface live, he was on C-Span bloviating nonsense about Cicero (Only, the stupid ass pronounced it "Ciss-row," not, as he ought to have, "KIK-ero," with hard Latin consonants). Helms, of course, never understood Marcus Tulli Ciceronis at all, he just borrowed quotes from some book about the world's best speeches and then spun the words around to his own sub-intellectual designs. Most people of his mindset are like that, borrowing glory from their intellectual superiors to mask psychological insecurities of their own (Think hundreds of beta males dressing alike, buzzcut alike, following orders and "having each others' back," dissolving their individual identities for the greater good of "the race").

The once-mulleted David Duke, a Helms fellow traveler, speaks incessantly of Mozart and Hegel as exemplars to "the white race" and asks -- rhetorically -- why have they no African-American counterparts. Imagine David Duke claiming credit for Mozart. But how often do you truly believe Dukey has ever cracked the pages of Phenomenology of the Spirit, or, say, listened to Die Zauberflote alone at night while wrestling in the quiet of his soul. Not fucking often, it seems to me.

Fear of posterity and his own impending eternity in "the hot place" have no doubt prompted the old sausage to reluctantly apologize for his anti-AIDS bigotry (But, interestingly enough, not his insidious homophobia, which ran amok in the 80s, bold and stupid). Apparently, uncle honkey is writing a memoir and is unapologetic about his anti-busing stance (Or of accusing USAID of funding the impoverished residents of Haiti, whom he called, "practitioners of voodoo"), according to The News Observer (link via Drudgie Poo):

"(Helms added): 'We will never know how integration might have been achieved in neighborhoods across our land, because the opportunity was snatched away by outside agitators who had their own agendas to advance. We certainly do know the price paid by the stirring of hatred, the encouragement of violence, the suspicion and distrust. We do know that too many lives were lost, businesses were destroyed, millions of dollars were diverted from books and teachers to support the cost of buses and gasoline. We do know that turning our public schools into social laboratories almost destroyed them.'"

Simultaneous Corsair Translator: "Agitators"="Civil Rights heroes," "the stirring of hatred"="Brown v. Board of Ed," and "turning our public schools into public laboratories"="letting the races go to school together."

Fuck you very much, Jesse Helms. Now just die alread, fossil.

A Little of the Old In and Out



(image via dga.org)

In: "It's on Comedy Central, Bitch." This Page Six item is quite curious, considering the fact that Dave Chappelle still owes, at least theoretically, some, ehr, "hard labor" to Comedy Central with regards to that unfinished comedic product, youknowwhaddImean?:

"WHEN the going gets tough, so they say, the tough go shopping. Or Dave Chappelle does, anyway. The popular comic, who went AWOL from his big-bucks Comedy Central show last month and was said to be recovering from various ailments in South Africa, hit Los Angeles fashion emporium Fred Segal the other day for a big-time shopping spree. Chappelle was 'extremely amiable,' our spy reports. 'He chatted with everyone who came up to him, was lighthearted, smiling and seemed in the mood for some big spending.'"

Which, all told, must hurt the top brass at Comedy Central, who spent North of "a boatload of dinero" advertising the May 31 debut of the Chappelle Show on virtually every flat surface in the known Western world, only to come up as empty as Paris Hilton's head.

Rumor had it Chappelle was last seen skipping in Fred Segal's aisles, clicking his heels in mid jump, chuckling to himself, tearing labels off of mattresses, tossing Hawaiian shirts willy-nilly into the air, chiming allthewhile in a cracked little singsongish voice, "Doug Herzog's paying for it all, bitches!"



Above: Sophie Okonedo, Hello, delicious. (image via digitalhit)

Out: Usher, Diva. The 3AM Girls whale on Ush for the second time in as many days, blowing up his spot as a cool crooner, revealing aplenty his flourishing inner bitch:

"The 26-year-old singer - who we reported yesterday makes fans queue up to dance with him - stunned organisers at the Glamour Women of The Year awards by insisting a bigger star than Radio 1's Trevor Nelson present him his Man of the Year gong.

"So tipsy actress Sophie Okonedo did the deed.

"'It was hilarious. Usher had to hold her up,' says an onlooker.

"And on accepting his award, arrogant Ush moaned that a Justin Timberlake track was played as he went on stage. He said: 'Justin's not man of the year!'"

We nominate Usher, Diva of the Year, sashay stage left, and make a curtsie.



(image via rapidcityjournal)

In: Senator John Thune is His Own Man. The Corsair thought that Senator John Thune would end up as just another Aministration yes-man in the Imperial City. All the evidence pointed in that direction. It seemed like the obvious progression for Thune, as he owed everything to Bush and Rove. Thune was urged (handpicked, practically) by the President to run against the sitting Minority Leader of the United States Senate. A dubious project with dismal hopes of success at best, but one undertaken with the full backing of the White House. The Cheney's actually attended a fund raiser for Thune in Sioux Falls in the thick of the '04 race.
The President actually took time out of his own reelection frenzy and campaigned for Thune (In a state, we cannot fail to note, that was already firmly in Rove's Iron Kung Fu Grip). Of course Thune won, and it would be the logical thing for Thune to do to show his gratitude; no one would fault him for being an ally in the Senate for Bush. Some love is definitely warranted. But John Thune, is standing on his own, a move which suggests, quite possibly, acrid whiffs of "Dead Duck" wafting in the air interspersed with the sweet seasonal cherry blossom in that august, Imperial City. According to TheHill:

"Thune's boldest move yet is his not-too-subtle signal that he will oppose the nomination of John Bolton as ambassador to the United Nations to protest the administration's decision to close Ellsworth Air Force Base, the state's second largest employer.

"'I don't think he's the best person for the job,' Thune said of Bolton yesterday. 'People can ascribe whatever they want to [this decision]. What I've said is, I take our foreign-policy posture very seriously and I take our defense posture very seriously. The base issue is something extremely important to me.'

"He added, 'I'm going to do anything and everything within my power, and use all tools at my disposal' to get Ellsworth off the base closure list.

"But Thune has also demonstrated an independent streak on other issues, including agriculture programs, healthcare and trade.

"I'm going to do what is in the best interest of South Dakota always, first and absolutely,' Thune told The Hill. 'If I disagree with the president, I'm going to let him know that.'"

Sounds ducky.



Out: Thomas Friedman's Lust. First, before you read this post, you might want to put on the "Battle Hymn of the Republic" to get yourself in a sassy, Tom FreakyFriedmanish sort of vibe. Okay, ready?

Oh, dear lord, Thomas Friedman, desist ... desist! Thank god Slate's Jack Shafer takes the resident windbag at The Old Gray Lady, Our Thomas Friedman to task for this "flatulent" hawking of his "The Indians are going to eat our Lunch" tome (link via Poynter):

"I can't begrudge Friedman for his success in getting on television to promote the book, but I take issue with the promotional drumbeating in his Times column. Since the book came out two months ago, his columns have stated that the world has become 'flat,' is 'increasingly flat,' has become 'flatter,' or some other variant ('flattened,' 'flattening,' 'flatten') at least six times, and that's not counting the 5,000-word excerpt ('It's a Flat World, After All') from his book, which appeared in the April 3 New York Times Magazine or Fareed Zakaria's 2,400-word review in the May 1 New York Times Book Review (over which Friedman obviously had no input). I give Friedman no brownie points for not mentioning the book by title in his six recent columns."

Such "flattery."



(image via ElizabethSpiers)

In: Elizabeth Spears' Lunch at Michaels. Navel gazing and gossip and effervescent snarkiness rendered wittily on issues surrounding concerning power politics, the fashion houses, Hollywood, High Society and, finally, The Media all converge in the lovely confluence that is Michael's in New York (Emphasis on The Media angle). The Corsair loves the FishbowlNY idea of posting who's at whose table at Michael's. Fucking brilliant. Wish we had thought of it, quite frankly. Darn that clever Elizabeth Spiers, and those dark ... soulful yet intelligent eyes.

But we digress. Let's hope this becomes a regular feature, because enquiring minds need to know things like which cantankerous mogul is Michael Wolff presently wooing? Knowledge of whom Lady Tina Brown or Charlie Rose is lunching is imperative in this business. We don't know why we covet it but we just goddamn do. We're old school like that, see.

Picture Pages, Picture Pages ...



Above: Lotsa de Gas-a? (image via Hello!Magazine)




Above: This is how sideways-hungover The Corsair feels this morning. (image via the awesometastic Allison Bojarski)



Above: "Psst. Guys. I slipped a Mickey in her Fizzy. When she drops, we strike as one and juice her till the last drop." (image via NySocialdiary)

A Little of the Old In and Out (yesterday's edition, sorry for the tech glitch)



Above: Whitney and Bobby to Prime Minister Sharon: Yo, Ariel, check it: instead of a Peace Pipe, why don't we just smoke some crack?" (image via kingdonofyah)

In: The Bobby Brown Reality Show. The brilliant gang at World of Wonder scored an exclusive clip of the new Bobby Brown Reality Show on Bravo. This shit is off the hook all-the-way live. The Corsair cannot stress to you enough how fucking good this show is going to be.

In the clip we see what can only be construed as a "synchronized dancing" between the -- how does one put this nicely? -- incredibly ghetto duo of Whitney and Bobby. Also, Bobby Brown buys Preparation H hemorrhoid cream from a the Atlanta Hyatt Hotel Gift Shop, explaining to the startled Southeast Asian clerk it's uses. Here's some of the home remedy "dialogue":

"(Over sleazy background flute music) Bobby Brown: Do you have Preparation H? I don't need it for my butt, though. Nah. (Absently) I don't need it for my butt. They say Preparation H, when you put it under your eyes, it takes away the swelling.

(Clip of Bobby applying the hemorrhoid cream under his eyes)

"See, I had a late night last night. I hadn't seen my wife in ... thirty something days .... (cocky exhale) .. you know, this is how we do (it)"

(Whitney Houston enters, dancing, freshly fucked)

"Whitney Houston: (Chirpy) ... Chello!

"Bobby Brown: Baby, I need to go; I need ...

"Whitney: (Mockingly) I need, I need ... (Claps hands, starts bobbing and weaving; pretty soon Bobby joins in -- words get in the way)

(Bobby and Whitney proceed to do a little synchonized fancydancing)

Too fucking brilliant.



(image via Cloud9.net)

Out: Katherine Harris. Actually, The Corsair is stunned that Katherine Harris actually curbed her massive and unsavory lusts for power this long, settling for a mere Congressional seat in the 13th District of Florida instead of galactic conquest. We know that the former realtor has in the recent past salivated over former Senator Graham's vacated seat, but Karl Rove and the President handpicked the less controversial Mel Martinez instead. How her Will-to-Power must have seethed within her savage breast. She is running for Bill Nelson's Senate seat, according to The Hill:

"In a statement yesterday, the second-term Florida congresswoman confirmed speculation that she will seek the Republican nomination to challenge incumbent Democratic Sen. Bill Nelson.

�?'Today, after months of encouragement from friends, constituents and advisors, many prayers and the love and support of my family, the time has come to launch a campaign for the United States Senate,' Harris said in the statement.'I will formally announce my candidacy, and key members of my campaign team, in July,' the statement added.

"Nelson�?s office countered the Harris announcement with its own statement, the first barb in what could be a bitter, hard-fought race.'In over three decades of public service, Bill Nelson always has always strived to help everyday people and has represented mainstream Florida values,' said Dan McLaughlin, a spokesman for Nelson. 'Katherine Harris represents only the radical right.'"



Above: Matt and Annette Lauer, Caryn Lerner, and Hal Rubenstein (image via NYSocialDiary)

In: Annette Roque Lauer. All the swell set showed up for Madonna's cocktail party and book signing of Lotsa De Casha at Bergdorf Goodman. While most everyone kissed Madonna's ass with varying degrees of moistness, Annette Roque Lauer had the most interesting line of the evening, IMHO. Says Fashionweekdaily:

"The Material Girl, clad in a Dolce & Gabbana chiffon dress, Prada heels, a vintage necklace, earrings and bracelets from Kentshire estate jewelers, and a clutch she picked up at Bergdorfs, walked the red carpet for a good 40 minutes like the pro that she is. When asked whether she was a big Madonna fan, Annette Roque Lauer paused to think for a second, before replying, 'Umm, yeah,' before adding, 'Let's just put it this way: I'm a supporter of anyone who supports UNICEF' (a portion of the money raised from the evenings book sales went to the charity)."

Good, diplomatic answer, Mrs. Lauer. We entirely agree.



(image via NYPost)

Out: Jeff Zucker. Let the Jeff Zucker Deathwatch (TM) begin. NBC has problems, and not just Today Show problems. And although Liz Smith tells us that Jeff Zucker is being honored tonight at Phoenix House by the likes of Matt and Katie and Conan and Jonathan Tisch, his job is in danger. In a MediaLifeMagazine poll of media planner and buyers, most believe he has until Christmas before his ass gets canned. According to MediaLifeMagazine:

"'Jeff Zucker needs to go,' said one respondent.

�?'Ever since he took over, NBC has become a slow boiling frog. It all started when he arrogantly canceled Providence. He seems to be untouchable. But unless NBC wants to keep making up stats where they look somewhat respectable, he should be packing his bags. Where's Jamie Tarses?'

"Wonders another: 'What could possibly be their motivation for keeping Thursdays intact? It seems to me Jeff Zucker should get used to being number 4 ... because NBC will be in that rank for a long time to come!'

"How much longer does Zucker, who has headed NBC since 2000, have to turn things around?"

Enquiring minds want to know.

Picture Pages, Picture Pages ...



(image via NYSocialDiary)

Above: Machiavellian former Ambassador Richard Holbrooke, well satiated on the blood of Andalusian peasants, tells Nautica founder David Chu of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis.



Above: As we've always secretly suspected, after hours Carson Daly secretly pimps out the Midwest farmers daughters who camp outside of MTV's Midtown Studios. (image via NYSocialDiary)




Above: Says the newly blonde Brad Pitt: "The first rule of Paparazzi Fight Club is you do not talk about Papparazi Fight Club. (image via Hello!Magazine)

Usher, Freakshow



(image via awwbn)

In the beginning there was "Superhead," who, in all accuracy, ought to be henceforth known as "chickenhead." Then, allegedly (via Popbitch), Ush stole Xzibit's ex-fiance, Eisha Brightwell after his sexuality was questioned. Now, Usher's a kiss stealing bandit, according to the 3AM Girls:

"The American superstar turned up with his entourage at London club Kabaret's Prophecy on Monday night. And the 26-year-old soon had a stream of scantily-clad lovelies vying for his attention.

"To help him cope, (Usher) has perfected a production-line technique to make sure they all get a dirty dance with him.

"Our club source reveals: 'Usher had two massive bodyguards with him.

"'At first I thought they were there to stop anyone from attacking him but then I realised he has them to organise a rota of women for him to entertain.

"'There was a queue of about 15 girls in short skirts and skimpy tops all dying to meet him."

We're ... talking about "Usher," right? (The Corsair is slightly confused) The ... little shiny headed kid. Dim, right?

"'Usher was sat at a private table with six bottles of vintage Dom Perignon champagne at �200 a bottle and a few pals. He was having a great time and, when the girlies formed a queue, things only got better.

"'He would dance with one girl and when he got a bit bored with her, he would motion to one of his burly bouncers to move her on and bring the next girl forward."

Like Ush was "bored" with Naomi Campbell (Averted Gaze)? How does one get bored with Naomi Campbell? She contains multitudes. Perhaps my good man is suffering from an acute attention deficit disorder?

"'The girls didn't seem to mind. It was hysterical to watch.

"By 3.30am Usher had had enough excitement and left with two of the women.

"'One was blonde and the other was an oriental girl. Usher looked very pleased with himself,' adds our source."

We're still talking about "Usher"? The kid with the "vague" Paris Hilton-like gaze who likes to dance with his shirt off? That Usher?

McCain Versus Frist: Oh, It's on Like Gray Poupon!



(image via parentheticalnote)

And then there was McCain. Readers of this blog know how The Corsair feels about John McCain and the slanderous hand that was dealt him so shamelessly in South Carolina. (The Corsair pours himself a Kentucky Bourbon neat to help him meditate seriously on the subject of Southern politics) The former Naval Captain's strategy this time is more elaborate and ruthless, shoring up potential allies from Rove and Frist's own political backyard in full view. Poach! We are observing up close the bold maneuverings of a third generation military mind at work. The art of war is encoded on his DNA. Many -- The Corsair included in the ranks -- thought that the obsequious kissing of President George Bush on the campaign trail in 2004 was somehow ... unmanly, louche and servile.

Quite the contrary. It all now appears to have been part of long term strategy to hold the base for the definitive run in 2008. Now the terrible engines of John McCain's strategizing can be loosed. There is a rumor (Has it been officially confirmed yet? We know not. We think it quite true) that John Kerry offered him the Veep slot but McCain for a fusion ticket, but, upon seeing the "liberal" sprinklings of "loserdust" on the Massachusetts' Senator's lapel, the Arizonan declined graciously. Then, McCain promptly started campaigning for the Bush-Cheney 2004 ticket with robust zeal. Zing!

No one doubts that Senator John McCain is going to run for the Presidency. If the Senate is "The Waiting Room," then McCain, by virtue of his legislative accomplishments over the years and his All-American resume, is, without peer, at the front of the line. Apparently, the only thing actually stopping McCain from even saying so out loud is the political fact that an announcement so far in advance could: a) taint his effectiveness in the Senate, and b) quite possibly stale the public on the effervescent freshness of his campaign. And so we play this game of McCain saying things like, "the only thing on my plate is the Bolton nomination," or some such yam-yam.

Even Senator Hillary Clinton's centrist rhetoric on the prestigious "Armed Services Committee (wink wink)," and her oh-so-subtle championing of soldiers in an intriguingly matronly manner and, finally the photo op with conservatives all suggest, in varying degrees, a self-consciousness with regards to her own military bona fides. And while any woman making a credible run for the White House has to deal with the "Commander-in-Chief" issue from the sexist Bubbas out there, the particular flavor of this military self consciousness exhibited by Senator Clinton has: "John McCain, 2008" written all over it.

Just a guess, IMHO.

According to the Merc (link via Drudgie-poo):

"Mark McKinnon, the Austin political consultant who oversaw the advertising for President Bush in the 2000 and 2004 campaigns, has committed to help Sen. John McCain in a second presidential bid.

"McKinnon - one of the president's closest friends and confidants and a frequent mountain biking companion - met with the Arizona Republican over lunch this spring in the Senate dining room to discuss his support, said a GOP activist familiar with the meeting.

"At this point, McCain, who lost to Bush in a bitter 2000 Republican primary, is in the early but unmistakable stages of laying the groundwork for another campaign. And McKinnon has indicated he would review his options, should Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice or the president's brother, Florida Gov. Jeb Bush, run in 2008."

Oh, it's on; it's on like Gray Poupon!

A Little of the Old In and Out



Above: David Beckham's alleged mystery woman. (image via NewsoftheWorld)

In: David Beckham. Just last week he was out and about promoting his new sneakers, and now this. The man simply cannot keep it in his pants, even with a wife as hott as Posh Spice. Although France rejected the "European Union," David Beckham is somewhat expert at making them happen, often. And poor, naive Victoria "Posh" Beckham, who may just be the only sentient being on this big, blue marble that believes LeeAnn Devette when she says that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes actually fuck.

According to the extremely downmarket (and thus exquisitely delicious) NewsoftheWorld:

"DAVID Beckham has been caught on film in a kiss with a stunning Rebecca Loos lookalike.

"The photographer who snatched these shock pictures said: 'They kissed for 15 to 20 seconds and it looked full frontal on the lips. His wife Victoria would not have been happy.'

"Our revelations come just weeks after we revealed how a string of affairs had pushed the Beckham marriage to breaking point.

"Becks, 30, and the latest brunette ... have met twice in a layby near the Real Madrid training ground in the last fortnight.

"A sports photographer waiting to snap stars after training in Las Rozas, 10 miles from the Spanish capital, said: 'The girl arrived in a Ford Fiesta and parked in the street."

You just know nothing good can come of a story beginning like that. Lone car on a country road outside of the Spanish capital ...

"'She was talking on her mobile. A minute later Beckham drove up in his silver Audi A8."

The Corsair tucks into a bowl of unsalted popcorn and is rapt to the screen.

"'I was amazed when he flashed his headlights two or three times, then pulled up behind her. Her face lit up and David seemed pleased too.'

"The brunette, dressed in a denim jacket and a white, tiered mini-skirt, got out of her car, looked around and walked towards the grinning Beckham. Then she started chatting to the star through his open window."

Something along the St. Elmo's Fireish line of, "Hey ... y'wanna date?" (a line delivered, lustily, by the hooker with the heart of gold, Anna Marie Horsford)

"'They seemed to talk naturally and it all looked quite intimate,' said the photographer who was about 20 yards away.

"'Then the girl leaned right in through the window and they kissed. It didn't look like just a peck. It went on for a long time. In all they spent about five minutes together."

"'Eventually they were interrupted when a fan spotted Becks and shouted his name out aloud."
At that the brunette went back to her car and David sped off.'"

Is a kiss like that "normal in Spain?" (Averted Gaze) as the Beckham PR team is spinning this whole fiasco. We don't think so, but decide for yourself. The full story here.



(image via NYSocialDiary)

Out: Ashley Olsen and Scott Sartino. After nearly a year of full-on public after hours canoodling, the fire has gone out of "Ashtino." (Averted Gaze) According to Lloyd Grove's Lowdown:

"Looks like Ashley Olsen won't be partying at Butter any time in the near future.

"Lowdown hears that the 18-year-old blond Olsen twin has split with her 30-year-old boyfriend, Scott Sartiano, who co-owns the trendy downtown nightspot.

"...'People are already talking about how Scott was sick of her pain in the a- ways,' reports a Lowdown spy. 'He's surrounded by girls who are hotter, taller, cooler, etc., and he wants to trade up.'"

But not richer, Scotty Boy. One could endure the slings and arrows of her "pain in the ass ways" for, say, a half of $137 million payout. Fuck, The Corsair would endure Ashley's "pain in the ass ways" for a fraction of the hundreth of that amount and a case of single malt Scotch. The Corsair is easy like Sunday morning. Ashley ... call me?



(image via Filmstew)

In: Brian Grazer and Gigi Levangie Grazer. Sure, Diane and Mike epitomize urbane hard power. And, yes, yes, Les and Julie are a close second, representing a pragmatic yet sophisticated "corporate-talent synergy." But what about the Left Coast's Gigi and Brian Collabo (TM), which has been in the news quite a bit of late.

We know that when they first met, they arm wrestled. He cheated, twisting his wrist for additional leverage, thus clutching victory from the arms defeat. Brian Grazer is, as Patrick Goldman of the Los Angeles Times writes today (link via Defamer), "ever alert to the power dynamics of any situation." Also:

"It's easy to make light of Grazer's antics, he's always checking his hair and his teeth in the mirror, but there's a method to his madness. His jittery nerve endings are also his creative antennae, his shrewd sixth sense about what's percolating in the pop zeitgeist. 'Brian is a seeker,' says Viacom Co-President Tom Freston, an old pal who often takes Grazer on trips to Dakar, Senegal, and other exotic locales. 'He has this ADD persona, but that's just the way his mind works, bouncing from place to place. He has an incredible ability to sniff out something that's out on the edge just before it reaches the mainstream, like he did with Eminem and '8 Mile.'

"Because Grazer is so close to Freston and Paramount Chairman Brad Grey, rumors abound that he might jump ship from Universal, where he's under contract until the end of 2008. He insists he isn't going anywhere. 'They're a winning team and have been a really great partner,' he says. 'We've had so much success together that I can't imagine leaving.'"

Gigi Levangie Grazer's new novel (which will, no doubt, lead to a future film development deal), Maneater, is currently on bookshelves.



(image via The Guardian)

Out: Howard Dean. Frankly, The Corsair likes Howard Dean as a person. He is an honest man, was a fine Governor of Vermont, where The Corsair lived on granola and "kind bud" for 3 years (AKA, The Corsair Lost Years, TM). But Dean has been making an awful lot of mistakes in his first couple hundred days as DNC Chair, raising the question that maybe he, like John Bolton, lacks the diplomacy and savoir faire necessary to do the job effectively. Quoth TheHill:

"Three top fundraisers at the Democratic National Committee have resigned at a time when its chairman, former Vermont Gov. Howard Dean, has come under fire from fellow Democrats for controversial comments and his Republican counterpart has raised more than twice as much money.

"Democratic sources link the resignations to Dean's decision to focus on raising money in small increments through the Internet, as he did during his 2004 presidential bid, and building up the party's grassroots infrastructure while paying little attention to major Democratic donors."

Granted, his mandate was to shake things up, energize the youth vote, build grassroots, but how much time will the Democrats give him to enact his plans with this storm of negative publicity? Full story here.



(image via Village Voice, photo by Mark Dolan)

In: Spanking Jessica Cutler. The Corsair is a fan of "lusty lady" Rachel Kramer Bussel's smart and sexy Village Voice column. In today's Voice Rachel turns in a thoughtful piece about Sex and Washington through the lense of the Jessica Cutler-Washingtonienne scandal (Is it even a scandal?). One of the more interesting lines of thought -- and Rachel is an interesting thinker -- regarding Robert Steinbuch's lawsuit against Cutler offers up an unofficial requiem to scott -free polymorphous perversity in The Imperial City:

"I dropped out of law school, so I can't speak to the legal merits of the case, but I laughed at his invasion-of-privacy claim. I'd read The Washingtonienne (Hyperion, 2005), Cutler's barely fictionalized novel chronicling her D.C. exploits, namely partying, fucking congressional workers on their desks, and taking oodles of cash from suitors to pay her rent, but I didn't know Steinbuch's name until his lawsuit, splashed on the Smoking Gun, revealed it.

"Spanking and hair pulling are the main kinky activities Steinbuch is angry at Cutler for publicizing. He alleges that these revelations go beyond what the so-called reasonable person could bear having known about him. But if they were so shocking, why was he doing them in the first place? We seem to want sexual privacy when it's convenient, but we also want the freedom to be publicly wanton, from blogs to reality shows to tabloid tell-alls. In a post-Monica Lewinsky world, I'd think anyone in Washington engaging in extra-curricular sex play would have considered the possibility that his kinky thrills might someday be revealed and act accordingly."

The rest of Rachel's article here.

Out: DisneyWorld. Disney is "out," (The Corsair snaps his fflaboyantlyoyantly) -- waay out. And, just this once, in this case, that's a good thing. For your video pleasure, Radar's Walt Disney World Story on the employees' subversive banquets now has some visual accompaniment. If you were a fan of Disney as a child, watch it at your own risk. Says Radar's Tyler Gray:

"Managers and supervisors who show up at such banquets tend to look the other way, I was told, even though some skits boldly mock the squeaky-clean atmosphere of the magic kingdom. The skits boost morale. From more than an hour's worth of material collected on the DVD, Radar has chosen a few of the juiciest bits, brief segments revealing a side of Disney's costumed underclass that few parkgoers ever see.

" ... What gets the mojo working for John Smith, the legendary pioneer lover in Pocahontas? In this excerpt we see Smith's eye wander to a well-built young brave in a loincloth, an inside joke about the high ratio of homosexual actors employed by Disney's character department. One reliable source claims that one in four characters actors is gay."

(The Corsair snaps) You go, Captian John Smith.

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.