A Little of the Old In and Out
In: Liquid Generation says that Lindsay Lohan is a Drunken Wreck (this evil, evil little link comes from Hell via Defamer). Hey, she's 18 now; that's our defense and we're sticking to it.
Out: Scott Stereogum's Mandy Moore photo ... so choice, I highly recommend it.
In: Catwoman is going to be such the stinker on a truly galactic scale that I think I just might go, you know, to see the carnage, like people's eyes bleeding and people fleeing Loews with their hands covering their noses. It stars box office jinx Sharon Stone and Oscar winner Halle Berry in the worst-looking superhero headgear ever, on the cause of Halle's hair vanity. Defamer weighs in:
"Surefire Sign That Your Movie Marketing Department Is About Ten Minutes From Mass Suicide: The last-ditch recruitment of Barbie to promote your lite S&M stinker to the last demographic not poisoned by your movie's negative hype, seven-year-old girls."
Oh, this is going to be sooo bad. Let me get this straight: Halle, in shredded leather pants and a midriff-baring bustier, beats up musclebound baddies? Hmmm. Highly Implausible ...
Out: Those merry Page Sixers inform us:
"our spies say Ivana was rattled after running into her ex Donald's new bride-to-be, Melania Knauss, at the Dior show. 'She was not happy,' our source says. 'Everyone had to run around finding her a new place to sit. They ended up both in the front row but across the runway from each other. Ivana feels threatened by her.'"
The Corsair sheepishly raises his hand: Okay, suggestion, to avoid those feelings of inferiority in the face of the new wife, Ivana might want to, like shave off that last name and go back to her more "empowering" maiden name. Just a suggestion.
In: Legal guardians, baby, they are so "in," that they are the new Michael Ian Black. According to Gawker (link via AFP), Court Love (I know, I wasn't supposed to write about her anymore, and I tried ... for two whole days ...), Love started the trend, which is vaguely BDSM with overtones of "Top" and "Bottom," or, as that old Phenomenologist of the Spirit Hegel might call it, the Master-Slave dialectic:
"We're suddenly jealous: Courtney Love has a legal guardian. Get this -- you can declare yourself incompetent and make someone else do everything for you! Show up at your court hearings, take care of your kids, do the dishes -- hell, I bet I could even get someone to do my blow for me! This whole guardian idea is bitching!"
We so agree.
Out: Congressman Harold Ford, Jr. Call me a playa hater, drunk off a gallon of haterade, but this guy is just too ambitious. He's dangerously ambitious, sinisterly ambitious. He tried to unseat House Minority leader Nancy Pelosi at, get this, the age of 32; He appeared in Robert Downey's documentary The Last Party; he was conspicuous in nearly every episode of my beloved K Street; and being named one of People Magazine's 50 Most Beautiful People in the World. And now, according to the vapid Cindy Adams, that bastard is getting toasted by Justin Trousersnake:
"THE Democratic Convention later this month in Boston. Guess who's giving a party? Guess. Just guess. Give up? That bastion of political know-how, that international savant, that well-known Democratic think-tank Justin Timberlake. I'll repeat that because nobody's going to believe this. Justin Timberlake. He comes from Tennessee. He will thus host a happening for the Tennessee Congressman Harold Ford Jr. At least that's what I think the guy's name is � and if it isn't, so what."
Someone please check under his hair for the mark of the beast. Please. Hurry.
In: Andre 3000 and Alicia Silverstone were named PETA's "World's Sexiest Vegetarians." Someone please fetch me a chicken fried steak! Ananova writes:
"When asked recently how he would spend his last day on earth, Andre replied: 'I'd probably go for a great meal - some broccoli probably, because I'm a vegetarian.'
"Silverstone, meanwhile, said: 'Once I became vegan, my nails were stronger, my skin was glowing, I lost a lot of weight.'"
Out: AJ Benza. We are a little miffed at AJ Benza, as he stiffed our pal Michael Musto on a scoop. Musto says it all accurately:
"I recently asked Corsair blogsman RON MWANGAGUHUNGA to get A.J. BENZA to elaborate on a Corsair item that the gossip mook was hosting a reality show. 'I'd do anything for Musto,' A.J. responded to Ron, swearing he'd forward the info shortly. Instead, he adorably gave it to Page Six! And he used to be the fun kind of corrupt. Now where's that redemption window?"
You owe Musto one, AJ; do the right thing, be a goodfella, we still love you.
In: East Sussex, baby, in the UK. That significant cultural artifact Star Magazine reports, "We already knew Johnny Depp was a Francophile, and now it's safe to call him an Anglophile too. Depp, 41, fell for a $4.7 million Georgian estate in picturesque Rye, East Sussex, during a trip to the U.K. in May, says a source."
The Mirror reported on July 9th, "SEEMS Johnny Depp isn't the only celeb to have fallen in love with the picturesque village of Rye in East Sussex.
"The Pirates Of The Caribbean star recently bought a house there and now we hear Brad Pitt and wife Jennifer Aniston are looking for a property there too.
"Our agent tells us: 'It's a beautiful place and perfect for a couple looking to relax and get away from it all.'"
The Corsair counts the minutes until the New York Times is writing a story on East Sussex, thereby officially signalling the end of that celeb trend.
Out: Annabel Magazine? According to British Vogue:
"ANNABEL'S, the glamorous Berkeley Square nightclub named after founder, Mark Birley's former wife, Lady Annabel Goldsmith, is planning its own glossy magazine. Among the contributors to the publication, which is due to be launched during London Fashion Week in September, is Anthony Haden-Guest, who was immortalised as seedy hack Peter Fallow in Tom Wolfe's Bonfire of the Vanities. Haden-Guest's article will chronicle the history of the club that has over the decades played host to some of London's most starry nights. And to make sure he doesn't miss a trick, he has posted a message on an internet chat forum asking people for 'any memories [they] might have of specially memorable evenings there', adding, 'about some nights, I would be grateful for my own memory!'"
We love Haden-Guest, that iron man party boy, but the magazine idea sounds dodgy.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
Reverend Al Communications, Inc?
The Daily News' Phyllis Furman reports today that Reverend Al Sharpton, that sweet natured buffoon with the outdated bouffant, is on his way to becoming a media mogul:
"Stand by for the newest marquee on the media landscape - Rev. Al Communications Inc. Al Sharpton, the civil rights activist turned TV star, has set up his own media company and is in talks with prominent black entrepreneurs and media execs about funding and guiding his burgeoning media biz career, sources close to Sharpton said.
"'He's about to become a CEO,' a source said."
The Corsair stands utterly speechless, contemplating the former FBI informant's moxie.
"Sharpton - who already scored a reality TV show deal with cable net Spike TV and is a paid commentator for CNBC - is looking to fund everything from a TV production company to a syndicated radio program to magazine acquisitions and start-ups.
"He's been approached by two of the country's leading African-American advertising moguls, Uniworld founder Byron Lewis and GlobalHue president Don Coleman. They are looking to pour dollars into the Sharpton media venture, sources said.
"Both have been big supporters of his Madison Avenue Initiative, a group that seeks to draw ad dollars to black media.
"And Sharpton is in talks with two African-American media execs to run the organization. Frank Mercado-Valdes is the former president of Heritage Networks, a syndicator of ethnic TV shows, who had butted heads with Sharpton years ago in a bitter battle over the Apollo Theater. Keith Clinkscales is the ex-president of publisher Vanguarde Media and former CEO of Vibe magazine.
"Despite his media ambitions, Sharpton told the Daily News that his primary focus will continue to be his civil rights group National Action Network. He will also be campaigning heavily for John Kerry and is slated to address the Democratic National Convention.
"'I want to do TV and radio as long as it doesn't interfere with my charitable work,' Sharpton said, calling in yesterday from L.A. where he was on the set of his Spike TV show 'I Hate My Job.'"
The Corsair wants to do TV and radio as long as it doesn't interfere with his Cutty Sark.
"But the Sharpton company marks the next big step for the former presidential candidate who earlier this year hired William Morris to field TV and radio offers. Sharpton's also being guided by his longtime spokeswoman Rachel Nordlinger and entertainment manager Bruce Charet."
Let me get this straight, Al Sharpton has an "entertainment manager"? Can someone say "Hollywood"?
"William Morris has been holding talks with leading radio syndicators, including ABC Radio Networks, Premiere Radio networks and Westwood One as well as satellite radio company Sirius. The goal is to turn Sharpton into the Rush Limbaugh of the left."
Well, Rush and Al do occupy approximately the same volume ...
"When asked about the prospects of making serious money at this stage in his career, Sharpton said, 'I certainly haven't made money before.'
"'I will involve black companies. I am going to open opportunities,' he added."
Mi vida loca.
The Daily News' Phyllis Furman reports today that Reverend Al Sharpton, that sweet natured buffoon with the outdated bouffant, is on his way to becoming a media mogul:
"Stand by for the newest marquee on the media landscape - Rev. Al Communications Inc. Al Sharpton, the civil rights activist turned TV star, has set up his own media company and is in talks with prominent black entrepreneurs and media execs about funding and guiding his burgeoning media biz career, sources close to Sharpton said.
"'He's about to become a CEO,' a source said."
The Corsair stands utterly speechless, contemplating the former FBI informant's moxie.
"Sharpton - who already scored a reality TV show deal with cable net Spike TV and is a paid commentator for CNBC - is looking to fund everything from a TV production company to a syndicated radio program to magazine acquisitions and start-ups.
"He's been approached by two of the country's leading African-American advertising moguls, Uniworld founder Byron Lewis and GlobalHue president Don Coleman. They are looking to pour dollars into the Sharpton media venture, sources said.
"Both have been big supporters of his Madison Avenue Initiative, a group that seeks to draw ad dollars to black media.
"And Sharpton is in talks with two African-American media execs to run the organization. Frank Mercado-Valdes is the former president of Heritage Networks, a syndicator of ethnic TV shows, who had butted heads with Sharpton years ago in a bitter battle over the Apollo Theater. Keith Clinkscales is the ex-president of publisher Vanguarde Media and former CEO of Vibe magazine.
"Despite his media ambitions, Sharpton told the Daily News that his primary focus will continue to be his civil rights group National Action Network. He will also be campaigning heavily for John Kerry and is slated to address the Democratic National Convention.
"'I want to do TV and radio as long as it doesn't interfere with my charitable work,' Sharpton said, calling in yesterday from L.A. where he was on the set of his Spike TV show 'I Hate My Job.'"
The Corsair wants to do TV and radio as long as it doesn't interfere with his Cutty Sark.
"But the Sharpton company marks the next big step for the former presidential candidate who earlier this year hired William Morris to field TV and radio offers. Sharpton's also being guided by his longtime spokeswoman Rachel Nordlinger and entertainment manager Bruce Charet."
Let me get this straight, Al Sharpton has an "entertainment manager"? Can someone say "Hollywood"?
"William Morris has been holding talks with leading radio syndicators, including ABC Radio Networks, Premiere Radio networks and Westwood One as well as satellite radio company Sirius. The goal is to turn Sharpton into the Rush Limbaugh of the left."
Well, Rush and Al do occupy approximately the same volume ...
"When asked about the prospects of making serious money at this stage in his career, Sharpton said, 'I certainly haven't made money before.'
"'I will involve black companies. I am going to open opportunities,' he added."
Mi vida loca.
Elton at Radio City Music Hall
Yesterday's Radio City Music Hall Elton John gala is described thusly by the merry few at Fashionweekdaily:
"Tuesday night, it was all about Elton. The concert opened with the music man seated at his piano on stage with an impressive 99-piece symphony orchestra and 62-voiced choir assembled behind him. John, dressed in a black suit with floral embellishments on the right sleeve, performed for over two hours to a packed audience that included such New York luminaries as Cynthia and Dan Lufkin, Eva Dillon, Bettina Zilkha, Howard Sobel, Amanda Hearst, Lauren, Sharon, and Ashley Bush."
The very cool David Patrick Columbia gets existential in NY Social Diary:
"Throughout the 70s as I was already grown up, but coming of age, the Elton John songs served as commentary, background, emotional reflections of that time, my age, our age. I never tired of him, of his delivery, his style; never tired of any of his material, especially those songs through the 1970s. When everything went CD, I started collecting him all over again.
"Last night at Radio City Hall, I saw him (playing to a packed house) for the first time live in concert at a benefit he did for the Royal Academy of Music (where he was a scholarship student) and the Juilliard School of Music at Lincoln Center. He was accompanied by his band and the symphony orchestras of both schools. And he played and played and played. Tirelessly, he took us through a selection of his vast library of work. After forty-three years of performing all over the world 55 times at Madison Square Garden, this is his first time at Radio City Music Hall. (He has four more shows there through the weekend).
"It was a rich evening for this writer, wrapped in the memories of growing up with Elton John?s songs."
Yesterday's Radio City Music Hall Elton John gala is described thusly by the merry few at Fashionweekdaily:
"Tuesday night, it was all about Elton. The concert opened with the music man seated at his piano on stage with an impressive 99-piece symphony orchestra and 62-voiced choir assembled behind him. John, dressed in a black suit with floral embellishments on the right sleeve, performed for over two hours to a packed audience that included such New York luminaries as Cynthia and Dan Lufkin, Eva Dillon, Bettina Zilkha, Howard Sobel, Amanda Hearst, Lauren, Sharon, and Ashley Bush."
The very cool David Patrick Columbia gets existential in NY Social Diary:
"Throughout the 70s as I was already grown up, but coming of age, the Elton John songs served as commentary, background, emotional reflections of that time, my age, our age. I never tired of him, of his delivery, his style; never tired of any of his material, especially those songs through the 1970s. When everything went CD, I started collecting him all over again.
"Last night at Radio City Hall, I saw him (playing to a packed house) for the first time live in concert at a benefit he did for the Royal Academy of Music (where he was a scholarship student) and the Juilliard School of Music at Lincoln Center. He was accompanied by his band and the symphony orchestras of both schools. And he played and played and played. Tirelessly, he took us through a selection of his vast library of work. After forty-three years of performing all over the world 55 times at Madison Square Garden, this is his first time at Radio City Music Hall. (He has four more shows there through the weekend).
"It was a rich evening for this writer, wrapped in the memories of growing up with Elton John?s songs."
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
A Little of the Old In and Out
Me droogs, how about a little of the old in and out?
In: LA.com's blog runs this suculent and juicy blind item, fuck if I know who they are talking about, although someone on the board speculated Angelina Jolie, and another speculated Scarlett Johanssen:
"Shes a sassy, sexy thang with a booming movie career that just wont quit. And it turns out shes got an appetite that just wont quit either. Just check out her curious habit of juggling several no-name boyfriends at the same time -- not all that hard a thing to do, considering how much time she spends filming and making the scene all around the planet. Why, shes even hired a couple of her anonymous studs to join the staff that waits on her hand and foot (not that she keeps them on very long once theyve outlived their usefulness). But Dolly knows that the real reason the lusty thing likes to keep her dating options in the multiples is because her favorite way to get her freak on is to do it in threesomes and foursomes and, yes, fivesomes."
Out: Famous indie film asshole, Vincent Gallo, who famously had on-screen oral sex with former It Girl Chloe Sevigny in the laughable "Brown Bunny (and, somewhere in the mix, put a curse on the colon of harmless film critic Roger Ebert)," in Paper Magazine, just saying any old shit just to get a reaction:
"(Gallo) On film festivals: 'I want to make a film with a handicapped Black Jew lesbian main character so I can win at Sundance.' On Tim Roth: 'Tim Roth is like holding a penis upside down to make it appear erect.' On Buffalo '66 co-star Christina Ricci: 'I don't like her. But it's okay. She's basically a puppet. I told her what to do, and she did it.' On Harmony Korine: ' ... a mini-dwarf, faggot date-raper.' On his hometown Buffalo: 'Like Deliverance with smoke stacks.'"
Like a school on Saturday ...
In: Town and Country Magazine, and their cover girl, the ethereal, beautiful Thandie Newton. During the Reagan 80s, Town and Country regularly ran features touting vacations in then Apartheid-era South Africa. Sad, but true. But all that is thankfully in the past, as Teri Agins of the Wall Street Journal notes:
"By mid-1993, executives at Hearst Corp. decided to reinvent (Town and Country), and brought in Pamela Fiori, editorial director of American Express Co.'s magazines, as editor in chief. Ms. Fiori says she realized that 'the face of affluence was changing dramatically,' and resolved to change the magazine accordingly. An unlikely tenet of her new strategy: boost the visibility of prominent blacks and other minorities.
"The most dynamic members of society were no longer scions, but often self-made 'doers,' Ms. Fiori reasoned, and they weren't necessarily white. Along with Asians, blacks and Latinos were gaining representation in the top income brackets, and Ms. Fiori set out to actively court them -- both as subjects and readers."
The move is as shrewd as it is principled. "High Society," as opposed to, say, the jet set, is a cultural class on life support. Rumor has it that high society currently consists of 50 old ladies and their elegantly tended rose gardens in Newport Rhode Island? So, Town and Country has embraced the upwardly-mobile minority readership in American society. Good for them, now, if only we could get Graydon Carter on board.
Out: "Underripe Cheesecake." Sounds unsavory, no? Okay, I was a little bit afraid to bring this up, you know, Patriot Act paranoia and all, but since Tom Scocca at the salmon-colored weekly did, then so will I. Was I the only one who was disturbed by last week's New York Magazine photographs of "underripe cheesecake" last week? Scocca writes:
"Last weeks edition (of New York Magazine) ... betrayed a creepily underdeveloped id.
"In a fashion spread titled 'Apr�s Swim,' New York presented the 'latest swimwear inspired by the sultry feel of the seventies.' The swimsuits, the magazine explained, 'hark back to those long Montauk summers when Cheryl Tiegs and Peter Beard ruled the waves.'
"But the shoot harked back more like nine years, not 30. Instead of evoking the sunny adult sexuality of Ms. Tiegs, shot by Mr. Beard, the photos echoed the creepy mid-90?s basement images of teenagers shot by Steven Meisel for Calvin Klein.
"Things opened legally, if seamily, with a 20-year-old woman in a Tomas Maier swimsuit. In front of her, on a bed, lay a young man of unspecified age wearing 'towel, Vintage.'
"Not all the models who followed were over the age of consent, though. A later shot presented a 15-year-old girl in a tiny black bikini, her developing body stretched out in an easy chair and one arm slung behind her head, pinup-wise.
"Any resemblance to underripe cheesecake was strictly accidental, the magazine insisted. 'Come on,' New York spokesperson Serena Torrey wrote in an e-mail, 'this was hardly an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. These were tasteful, arty fashion pictures.'"
So, for the record, let me get this straight, Adam Moss believes that gossip is an unpalatable appetizer, but underripe cheesecake is fine for the main course? Just asking.
In: Jerry Springer will cover the Democratic convention for WOIO Channel 19 in Cleveland, according to the Plain Dealer (link via Romenesko):
"A Cleveland news station has tapped a special correspondent with a nose for political scandal to cover the Democratic Party convention in Boston this month: Jerry Springer.
"WOIO Channel 19 which already has wowed viewers with flashy graphics, breathless anchors and relentless hype will use Jerry Springer as a correspondent instead of its own reporters. 'He's well-connected and as plugged-in as any anchor or reporter we could send,' said news director Steve Doerr.
"That's because Springer, who campaigned across Ohio last year in an exploratory bid for the U.S. Senate, is a Democratic delegate to the convention. State party leaders rewarded him with the slot for his fund-raising efforts.
"'We were looking for an unusual way to cover it, with an unusual person who could give it an unusual bent,' Doerr said. 'Based on our unusual format, it seemed to be a decent fit.'"
Is this the ultimate blurring of the line between entertainment and news? Is this a shrewd attempt to gain a local news broadcast buzz? The Corsair, actually, has an optimistic take on this development, despite what the great Howie Kurtz will probably report on exhaustively this Sunday. Springer was Democrat of the Year in Cleveland, had a powerful exploratory commission for a possible Senate run, is a delegate to the convention, a former news anchor at WLWT, a mayor, and worked on the Presidential campaign of Robert Kennedy. Is he a spectacle? Of course. Might he hasten the disintegration of the gravitas of Tv news? Possibly, but Springer is eminently qualified to serve as a special correspondent for television station WOIO in Cleveland.
Comment here on on VH1's Best Blog Ever.
Me droogs, how about a little of the old in and out?
In: LA.com's blog runs this suculent and juicy blind item, fuck if I know who they are talking about, although someone on the board speculated Angelina Jolie, and another speculated Scarlett Johanssen:
"Shes a sassy, sexy thang with a booming movie career that just wont quit. And it turns out shes got an appetite that just wont quit either. Just check out her curious habit of juggling several no-name boyfriends at the same time -- not all that hard a thing to do, considering how much time she spends filming and making the scene all around the planet. Why, shes even hired a couple of her anonymous studs to join the staff that waits on her hand and foot (not that she keeps them on very long once theyve outlived their usefulness). But Dolly knows that the real reason the lusty thing likes to keep her dating options in the multiples is because her favorite way to get her freak on is to do it in threesomes and foursomes and, yes, fivesomes."
Out: Famous indie film asshole, Vincent Gallo, who famously had on-screen oral sex with former It Girl Chloe Sevigny in the laughable "Brown Bunny (and, somewhere in the mix, put a curse on the colon of harmless film critic Roger Ebert)," in Paper Magazine, just saying any old shit just to get a reaction:
"(Gallo) On film festivals: 'I want to make a film with a handicapped Black Jew lesbian main character so I can win at Sundance.' On Tim Roth: 'Tim Roth is like holding a penis upside down to make it appear erect.' On Buffalo '66 co-star Christina Ricci: 'I don't like her. But it's okay. She's basically a puppet. I told her what to do, and she did it.' On Harmony Korine: ' ... a mini-dwarf, faggot date-raper.' On his hometown Buffalo: 'Like Deliverance with smoke stacks.'"
Like a school on Saturday ...
In: Town and Country Magazine, and their cover girl, the ethereal, beautiful Thandie Newton. During the Reagan 80s, Town and Country regularly ran features touting vacations in then Apartheid-era South Africa. Sad, but true. But all that is thankfully in the past, as Teri Agins of the Wall Street Journal notes:
"By mid-1993, executives at Hearst Corp. decided to reinvent (Town and Country), and brought in Pamela Fiori, editorial director of American Express Co.'s magazines, as editor in chief. Ms. Fiori says she realized that 'the face of affluence was changing dramatically,' and resolved to change the magazine accordingly. An unlikely tenet of her new strategy: boost the visibility of prominent blacks and other minorities.
"The most dynamic members of society were no longer scions, but often self-made 'doers,' Ms. Fiori reasoned, and they weren't necessarily white. Along with Asians, blacks and Latinos were gaining representation in the top income brackets, and Ms. Fiori set out to actively court them -- both as subjects and readers."
The move is as shrewd as it is principled. "High Society," as opposed to, say, the jet set, is a cultural class on life support. Rumor has it that high society currently consists of 50 old ladies and their elegantly tended rose gardens in Newport Rhode Island? So, Town and Country has embraced the upwardly-mobile minority readership in American society. Good for them, now, if only we could get Graydon Carter on board.
Out: "Underripe Cheesecake." Sounds unsavory, no? Okay, I was a little bit afraid to bring this up, you know, Patriot Act paranoia and all, but since Tom Scocca at the salmon-colored weekly did, then so will I. Was I the only one who was disturbed by last week's New York Magazine photographs of "underripe cheesecake" last week? Scocca writes:
"Last weeks edition (of New York Magazine) ... betrayed a creepily underdeveloped id.
"In a fashion spread titled 'Apr�s Swim,' New York presented the 'latest swimwear inspired by the sultry feel of the seventies.' The swimsuits, the magazine explained, 'hark back to those long Montauk summers when Cheryl Tiegs and Peter Beard ruled the waves.'
"But the shoot harked back more like nine years, not 30. Instead of evoking the sunny adult sexuality of Ms. Tiegs, shot by Mr. Beard, the photos echoed the creepy mid-90?s basement images of teenagers shot by Steven Meisel for Calvin Klein.
"Things opened legally, if seamily, with a 20-year-old woman in a Tomas Maier swimsuit. In front of her, on a bed, lay a young man of unspecified age wearing 'towel, Vintage.'
"Not all the models who followed were over the age of consent, though. A later shot presented a 15-year-old girl in a tiny black bikini, her developing body stretched out in an easy chair and one arm slung behind her head, pinup-wise.
"Any resemblance to underripe cheesecake was strictly accidental, the magazine insisted. 'Come on,' New York spokesperson Serena Torrey wrote in an e-mail, 'this was hardly an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog. These were tasteful, arty fashion pictures.'"
So, for the record, let me get this straight, Adam Moss believes that gossip is an unpalatable appetizer, but underripe cheesecake is fine for the main course? Just asking.
In: Jerry Springer will cover the Democratic convention for WOIO Channel 19 in Cleveland, according to the Plain Dealer (link via Romenesko):
"A Cleveland news station has tapped a special correspondent with a nose for political scandal to cover the Democratic Party convention in Boston this month: Jerry Springer.
"WOIO Channel 19 which already has wowed viewers with flashy graphics, breathless anchors and relentless hype will use Jerry Springer as a correspondent instead of its own reporters. 'He's well-connected and as plugged-in as any anchor or reporter we could send,' said news director Steve Doerr.
"That's because Springer, who campaigned across Ohio last year in an exploratory bid for the U.S. Senate, is a Democratic delegate to the convention. State party leaders rewarded him with the slot for his fund-raising efforts.
"'We were looking for an unusual way to cover it, with an unusual person who could give it an unusual bent,' Doerr said. 'Based on our unusual format, it seemed to be a decent fit.'"
Is this the ultimate blurring of the line between entertainment and news? Is this a shrewd attempt to gain a local news broadcast buzz? The Corsair, actually, has an optimistic take on this development, despite what the great Howie Kurtz will probably report on exhaustively this Sunday. Springer was Democrat of the Year in Cleveland, had a powerful exploratory commission for a possible Senate run, is a delegate to the convention, a former news anchor at WLWT, a mayor, and worked on the Presidential campaign of Robert Kennedy. Is he a spectacle? Of course. Might he hasten the disintegration of the gravitas of Tv news? Possibly, but Springer is eminently qualified to serve as a special correspondent for television station WOIO in Cleveland.
Comment here on on VH1's Best Blog Ever.
Memorable Celebrity Fisticuffs
Perhaps all the media attention regarding the 200th Anniversary of the Hamilton-Burr duel has gotten people a bit hot under the collar in these dog days of summer. Cans of whoop ass all over the city are being opened up. Gawker reported yesterday that the unhandsome Stanley Crouch went a little -- how shall we put it so as to keep it jazz-themed? -- "improvisational" on Dale Peck, he of the scathing review:
"A little after two o'clock (yesterday), while novelist and book critic Dale Peck was lunching with the writer Linda Yablonsky at Tartine in the West Village, jazz critic/cultural commentator/novelist Stanley Crouch decided to introduce himself. (Peck had reviewed a novel of Crouch's a few years back; in response to that review, Crouch told Salon that Peck was "a troubled queen.")
"At Tartine, Crouch shook Peck's hand, then, as a follow-up, smacked him in the face, saying 'if you ever did anything like that [presumably referring to the review] again, it'll be much worse.'
Much worse than being bitchslapped in a public?
"Crouch once also threw a punch at Howard Mandel, the president of the Jazz Journalists Association. If two equals trend (or maybe three? Didn't Crouch hit Harry Allen at the Village Voice, back in the day? (And wait, make that four -- didn't he slug the late letters editor Ron Plotkin at the Voice as well?) ) then it's pretty clear Crouch has, at best, some serious impulse control problems. Funny stuff, coming from a guy who's always railed about the 'politics of resentment' -- guess he's been carrying around a grudge for years."
Celebrities, and we use that term very loosely in the case of Stanley Crouch, are not averse to the prospect of a spot of a little "rough and tumble." Here are some of my favorites over the fullness of time:
Ophelia Roop writes of Mailer versus Vidal:
"The most memorable confrontation between Norman Mailer and Gore Vidal occurred in the waning moments of their famous and infamous literary feud when each wanted to be considered America's leading wordsmith. The story went something like this: A famous hostess, whose name I've forgotten, either as an oversight or with her eye on publicity and notoriety, had invited both sages of American letters - Mailer and Vidal - to her gathering. Mailer, not a little drunk, had challenged Vidal to a fight and when Vidal had not responded, a frustrated Mailer had tossed his drink either in Vidal's face or elsewhere on Vidal's person. Unperturbed apparently, Vidal had said, 'Once again words have failed Norman,' and with this secured his place as America's leading wordsmith."
Richard Johnson versus Joe Conason:
"While (Richard Johnson) was on general assignment, he wrote a story about Ed Koch that garnered him a mention in Joe Conason?s 'Media Watch' column at the Village Voice. Conason called him the 'undependable Richard Johnson.' 'I called him up, and he said I could write a letter to the editor or sue him for libel,' says Johnson. 'I found him in his office. We were walking down the hallway. I threw a punch at him. It was only a glancing blow.'"
That troublemaker Gore Vidal, it is said, jumped on his archenemy Truman Capote, who was sitting on a sofa, and excused himself, saying that he mistook the Southern writer for "a cushion."
Ernest Hemingway nearly crushed George Plimpton's fingers on night, if not for the well timed intervention of a curious onlooker.
Mike Tyson punched out Wesley Snipes over a girl ("later for you")
Comedians Chevy Chase and Bill Murray had a full on brawl.
Jack White of the White Stripes kinked Jason Stollsteimer of the Von Bondies' ass
Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan is said to have one slapped Senator Kit Bond in the face.
Perhaps all the media attention regarding the 200th Anniversary of the Hamilton-Burr duel has gotten people a bit hot under the collar in these dog days of summer. Cans of whoop ass all over the city are being opened up. Gawker reported yesterday that the unhandsome Stanley Crouch went a little -- how shall we put it so as to keep it jazz-themed? -- "improvisational" on Dale Peck, he of the scathing review:
"A little after two o'clock (yesterday), while novelist and book critic Dale Peck was lunching with the writer Linda Yablonsky at Tartine in the West Village, jazz critic/cultural commentator/novelist Stanley Crouch decided to introduce himself. (Peck had reviewed a novel of Crouch's a few years back; in response to that review, Crouch told Salon that Peck was "a troubled queen.")
"At Tartine, Crouch shook Peck's hand, then, as a follow-up, smacked him in the face, saying 'if you ever did anything like that [presumably referring to the review] again, it'll be much worse.'
Much worse than being bitchslapped in a public?
"Crouch once also threw a punch at Howard Mandel, the president of the Jazz Journalists Association. If two equals trend (or maybe three? Didn't Crouch hit Harry Allen at the Village Voice, back in the day? (And wait, make that four -- didn't he slug the late letters editor Ron Plotkin at the Voice as well?) ) then it's pretty clear Crouch has, at best, some serious impulse control problems. Funny stuff, coming from a guy who's always railed about the 'politics of resentment' -- guess he's been carrying around a grudge for years."
Celebrities, and we use that term very loosely in the case of Stanley Crouch, are not averse to the prospect of a spot of a little "rough and tumble." Here are some of my favorites over the fullness of time:
Ophelia Roop writes of Mailer versus Vidal:
"The most memorable confrontation between Norman Mailer and Gore Vidal occurred in the waning moments of their famous and infamous literary feud when each wanted to be considered America's leading wordsmith. The story went something like this: A famous hostess, whose name I've forgotten, either as an oversight or with her eye on publicity and notoriety, had invited both sages of American letters - Mailer and Vidal - to her gathering. Mailer, not a little drunk, had challenged Vidal to a fight and when Vidal had not responded, a frustrated Mailer had tossed his drink either in Vidal's face or elsewhere on Vidal's person. Unperturbed apparently, Vidal had said, 'Once again words have failed Norman,' and with this secured his place as America's leading wordsmith."
Richard Johnson versus Joe Conason:
"While (Richard Johnson) was on general assignment, he wrote a story about Ed Koch that garnered him a mention in Joe Conason?s 'Media Watch' column at the Village Voice. Conason called him the 'undependable Richard Johnson.' 'I called him up, and he said I could write a letter to the editor or sue him for libel,' says Johnson. 'I found him in his office. We were walking down the hallway. I threw a punch at him. It was only a glancing blow.'"
That troublemaker Gore Vidal, it is said, jumped on his archenemy Truman Capote, who was sitting on a sofa, and excused himself, saying that he mistook the Southern writer for "a cushion."
Ernest Hemingway nearly crushed George Plimpton's fingers on night, if not for the well timed intervention of a curious onlooker.
Mike Tyson punched out Wesley Snipes over a girl ("later for you")
Comedians Chevy Chase and Bill Murray had a full on brawl.
Jack White of the White Stripes kinked Jason Stollsteimer of the Von Bondies' ass
Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan is said to have one slapped Senator Kit Bond in the face.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Class in New York City
Granted, I gave this blog entry a really sexy title because I wanted you to head right on in, tossing caution to the wind, because no one really wants to talk about the pecking order in New York and I now will do so, somewhat, tentatively. Somehow the subject is deemed un-American, too British, and we, still trapped in what the now forgotten but once influential American sociologist VF Calverton (United States of Amnesia?) termed the "colonial complex," have issues with the idea of class, an idea that is at the backbone of Our Daddy Britain's sense of history and order.
But there is a complex system of class, of course, as this Sunday NY Times Styles column makes painfully clear:
"I have been working at Hue, a Vietnamese restaurant and lounge in the West Village, since shortly after it opened last summer. In the beginning it was a hit with a young, fast crowd because of one of its owners, Karim Amatullah. He has been in the night life business for years, starting as a promoter and most recently as an owner of Halo. So many celebrities have been coming that we have grown selective. Once, Chad Lowe's assistant called and asked if he could have a table in the next hour. 'Sorry,' I said, 'we're all booked.'
"'Really? That's a shame because his wife, Academy-Award-winner-Hilary-Swank, is very hungry.'
"'Ah, yes, something just opened up,' I say."
A cautionary tale, to be sure; but one that is very, very indicative of class and power relations in the Big Apple. The degree to which the class system is in operation in our American democratic social experiment is, indeed, staggering. Anyone whose ever been on the unforgiving end of the velvet rope, as Sandra Bernhard brushes past you, says something to the rather plain looking lady with the clipboard and the headset, and is ushered right in behind the velvet rop (You didn't even say "pardon me," Sandra, you bitch). Or if you've spent some time in the tents at the fashion shows knows this to be true. I once had dinner with Greek millionaire playboy Taki Theodoracopoulos at Elaine's. After the dinner, as me, Taki and Christopher Buckley proceeded to down the volume of the Chesapeake in liquor he mentioned that if he had known I was such a good drinker he wouldn't just have seated me at the "second best table." Out of maybe 7 or 8 tables, Taki, ever the hierarchical-thinking European conservative, had created, at Elaine's, his own system of class, through the seating arrangements, from most important to least important table, all, I must add, in good humor, in relation and proximity to Taki. Our Sun God. (Ed Note. You are a marvelous host, Taki)
That British asshole Toby Young also had an interesting story about Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter in his appropriately titled book How to Lose Friends & Alienate People (Little, Brown U.K.). On the first day on the job at Vanity Fair, Carter tells Young:
"'You think you've arrived, doncha?' he said. 'I hate to break it to you but you're only in the first room.' He paused. 'It's not nothing -- don't get me wrong -- but it's not that great either. Believe me, there are plenty of people in this town who got to the first room and then didn't get any further. After a year or so, maybe longer, you'll discover a
secret doorway at the back of the first room that leads to the second room. In time, if you're lucky, you'll discover a doorway in the back of the second room that leads to the third. There are seven rooms in total
and you're in the first. Doncha forget it.''This, I later discovered, was Graydon's 'seven rooms' speech, a pep talk he gives to all new recruits."
Dirk Standen of Gotham Magazine reviewed the book, saying:
"At times, Young exhibits a level of admiration for his ex-boss that borders on hero worship. But Carter, the erstwhile editor of the satirical monthly Spy, also comes across as an occasionally grandiose character in the book. He likes to greet new recruits with an intimidating speech about the 'seven rooms'of power, and he boots Young out of a front row seat at a Calvin Klein fashion show with the words: 'Toby, you can't sit in the front row. You're still in the first room.'"
If there are indeed seven rooms, and Graydon Carter is not just a bloviating gasbag, then Richard Johnson and his merry band of Page Sixers stand at the gate guarding the keys. From personal experience of one who was once mentioned in Page Six (it was about an interview I did with David Lynch) I was the beneficiary of one day of glory. It was something, I'll tell you.
And, similarly, the keys to the Avant Garde room, the Downtown Room, the place where everything experimental and new is going on -- wait: would they even have a room, and wouldn't keys be considered too bourgeois? -- are held in the hands of the excellent Michael Musto and David and Kim at Paper.
There's no way I can really get into the subject in this blog because there are so many levels of power and class in the city -- restauranteur spheres of power, lawyer spheres of power, business relations of class, publicist social distinctions, independent film centers and players, journalist clas protocol, even, down the line to -- dare I say it -- blogger class, with Choire Sicha holding those keys -- the elite eyeballs, along with the mysteriosu TMLTMF, at the top of the food chain, dispensing glory, or, more importantly, links.
It's all so fascinating but I'm never going to get to the bottom of it here; I'm just trying to start a conversation.
Granted, I gave this blog entry a really sexy title because I wanted you to head right on in, tossing caution to the wind, because no one really wants to talk about the pecking order in New York and I now will do so, somewhat, tentatively. Somehow the subject is deemed un-American, too British, and we, still trapped in what the now forgotten but once influential American sociologist VF Calverton (United States of Amnesia?) termed the "colonial complex," have issues with the idea of class, an idea that is at the backbone of Our Daddy Britain's sense of history and order.
But there is a complex system of class, of course, as this Sunday NY Times Styles column makes painfully clear:
"I have been working at Hue, a Vietnamese restaurant and lounge in the West Village, since shortly after it opened last summer. In the beginning it was a hit with a young, fast crowd because of one of its owners, Karim Amatullah. He has been in the night life business for years, starting as a promoter and most recently as an owner of Halo. So many celebrities have been coming that we have grown selective. Once, Chad Lowe's assistant called and asked if he could have a table in the next hour. 'Sorry,' I said, 'we're all booked.'
"'Really? That's a shame because his wife, Academy-Award-winner-Hilary-Swank, is very hungry.'
"'Ah, yes, something just opened up,' I say."
A cautionary tale, to be sure; but one that is very, very indicative of class and power relations in the Big Apple. The degree to which the class system is in operation in our American democratic social experiment is, indeed, staggering. Anyone whose ever been on the unforgiving end of the velvet rope, as Sandra Bernhard brushes past you, says something to the rather plain looking lady with the clipboard and the headset, and is ushered right in behind the velvet rop (You didn't even say "pardon me," Sandra, you bitch). Or if you've spent some time in the tents at the fashion shows knows this to be true. I once had dinner with Greek millionaire playboy Taki Theodoracopoulos at Elaine's. After the dinner, as me, Taki and Christopher Buckley proceeded to down the volume of the Chesapeake in liquor he mentioned that if he had known I was such a good drinker he wouldn't just have seated me at the "second best table." Out of maybe 7 or 8 tables, Taki, ever the hierarchical-thinking European conservative, had created, at Elaine's, his own system of class, through the seating arrangements, from most important to least important table, all, I must add, in good humor, in relation and proximity to Taki. Our Sun God. (Ed Note. You are a marvelous host, Taki)
That British asshole Toby Young also had an interesting story about Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter in his appropriately titled book How to Lose Friends & Alienate People (Little, Brown U.K.). On the first day on the job at Vanity Fair, Carter tells Young:
"'You think you've arrived, doncha?' he said. 'I hate to break it to you but you're only in the first room.' He paused. 'It's not nothing -- don't get me wrong -- but it's not that great either. Believe me, there are plenty of people in this town who got to the first room and then didn't get any further. After a year or so, maybe longer, you'll discover a
secret doorway at the back of the first room that leads to the second room. In time, if you're lucky, you'll discover a doorway in the back of the second room that leads to the third. There are seven rooms in total
and you're in the first. Doncha forget it.''This, I later discovered, was Graydon's 'seven rooms' speech, a pep talk he gives to all new recruits."
Dirk Standen of Gotham Magazine reviewed the book, saying:
"At times, Young exhibits a level of admiration for his ex-boss that borders on hero worship. But Carter, the erstwhile editor of the satirical monthly Spy, also comes across as an occasionally grandiose character in the book. He likes to greet new recruits with an intimidating speech about the 'seven rooms'of power, and he boots Young out of a front row seat at a Calvin Klein fashion show with the words: 'Toby, you can't sit in the front row. You're still in the first room.'"
If there are indeed seven rooms, and Graydon Carter is not just a bloviating gasbag, then Richard Johnson and his merry band of Page Sixers stand at the gate guarding the keys. From personal experience of one who was once mentioned in Page Six (it was about an interview I did with David Lynch) I was the beneficiary of one day of glory. It was something, I'll tell you.
And, similarly, the keys to the Avant Garde room, the Downtown Room, the place where everything experimental and new is going on -- wait: would they even have a room, and wouldn't keys be considered too bourgeois? -- are held in the hands of the excellent Michael Musto and David and Kim at Paper.
There's no way I can really get into the subject in this blog because there are so many levels of power and class in the city -- restauranteur spheres of power, lawyer spheres of power, business relations of class, publicist social distinctions, independent film centers and players, journalist clas protocol, even, down the line to -- dare I say it -- blogger class, with Choire Sicha holding those keys -- the elite eyeballs, along with the mysteriosu TMLTMF, at the top of the food chain, dispensing glory, or, more importantly, links.
It's all so fascinating but I'm never going to get to the bottom of it here; I'm just trying to start a conversation.
A Little of the Old In and Out
In: People are still raving about Calvin Klein's party on Saturday. Apparently this was really an existential event of quite some consequence, imagine our surprise. Every fucking glossy worth it's weight in platinum has chimed in on the cultural significance of this particular party. "With a waiter to guest ratio of one to three, the party was just grand enough to suit its venue, the sprawling Gothicised Southampton mansion that Klein paid $29.9 million for last year," says British Vogue. "He must have spent $600,000," one source salaciously told my favorite gossip duo, NY Daily News' Rush and Molloy. "And it was all done with class, taste, sexiness and fun." Guy Trebay of the New York Times wrote with a sort of Evelyn Waughish Brideshead Revisited melancholy-flourish, "... it appeared as if it was the Pines of that era that was being evoked at Calvin Klein's big party in Southampton last Saturday, an event that was by turns enchanted, confounding and suffused with nostalgia for a period when Mr. Klein, and the world of fashion as it is now, were still young." After reading Trebay gushing forth unselfconsciously, I thought I almost -- almost -- heard Jeremy Irons' world weary narrative voice coming from PBS. Gawker's source was snarky, the realist in the crowd, putting things all into perspective and snapping us out of our Bovaryesque reveries:
"the party calvin threw at his spookycastle/beach house on saturday was the most over the top bizarre. i mean, i am gay, but it was too gross to watch 200 young ("hired"?) half-naked men lounging around on pillows and bed-like furniture on the beach at night, with snickering old guard southampton socials staring in disbelief and laughing at them.
" ... there were even rumors that (ex studio 54) party planner robert isabell bulldozed the beach in preparation for the party. sick. the guest list was supposedly 200, then 400, try 800 of his 'nearest and dearest.' but crashers abounded and no one was even checking the guest list. the page sixers were there, trolling for items, and calvin was deeply conflicted, or confused, because we saw him ask patrick mcmullan to stop taking pictures... why invite him then? ps no body was wearing his clothes. yes, this was a $600,000 party that backfired."
Out: Teresa Heinz Kerry, willful blabbermouth, picklehead. Can someone put a fucking muzzle on her already? I know, I know: not four days ago, here I was, on this very blog, fascinated -- in true shallow Gemini fashion -- by her Mozambique-by-way-of-Swiss accent, and now? What? I repent. I can't take her eccentric $500 million twaddle. Teresa is form without content, an elegant international-flavored accent without the appropriate thoughtfulness, sophistication or polish: don't get distracted by the odd accent, the woman is dangerous! In many ways, she reminds me of stupid self-indulgent billionaires, like Ross Perot, or plantation owners, or British lords; they are so used to servants or slaves hanging on their every word, that thoughtfulness goes by the wayside and what we get, in due course, is logorrhea. According to Page Six, "THAT Teresa Heinz Kerry surprised and worried some of the 1,000 guests at Friday morning's Women for Kerry breakfast when she looked out at the crowd and said, 'We had better get you women some birth control, there are so many of you here!' Yikes."
In: IWantMedia's interview with "Outfoxed" Producer/Director Robert Greenwald captures the discomfort that some conservatives The Corsair knows (yes, The Corsair socializes with conservatives) have with the Fox News:
"IWM: What did you discover that surprised you the most while working on 'Outfoxed'?
"Greenwald: I thought going into this we would discover what we all knew -- that Fox News is a conservative news network, with an opinion relative to a conservative look at the world. But what I found is more troubling, more upsetting and more critical to democracy: Fox News is a Republican news network. It takes a Republican line, which is different from a conservative line.
"There are many well-meaning, thoughtful conservatives who disagree with the Bush administration about the war, about the tax cuts, about the economy, about [ex-White House terrorism advisor] Richard Clarke ... None of that is ever seen on Fox News because they consistently support the political line that the Republican party will take at any given time, which is different from a conservative philosophy or approach."
In all fairness, Fox has blasted back. Howard Kurtz has torched the film. And Variety gave it a mixed review.
Out: Gena Lee "Swollen" (AKA Gena Lee Nolin). That significant cultural artifact The National Enquirer informs us, mirabile dictu, that, "Gena Lee Nolin has finally made the journey from 'Baywatch' to 'Pay Watch' -- her long-awaited X-rated video has hit the Internet!" Charmed, I'm sure.
In: Models. So hott, everyone loves the aristocratic model, gliding down Prince Street in Soho ("the existential catwalk"), munching on rabbit food, portfolio in hand, ignoring the catcalls of the construction workers. (The Corsair sighs) Incidentally: Vladimir Nabokov's poetry appears to be all but forgotten in these United States of Amnesia, not to mention the works of John Dos Passos, Hannah Arendt and Jean Toomer, among other American artists who have vanished in the pop cultural buzz.
But Vladimir Nabokov's Ode To A Model is particularly relevant:
"I have followed you, model,
in magazine ads through all seasons,
from dead leaf on the sod
to red leaf on the breeze,
"from your lily-white armpit
to the tip of your butterfly eyelash,
charming and pitiful,
silly and stylish.
"Or in kneesocks and tartan
standing there like some fabulous symbol,
parted feet pointed outward
? pedal form of akimbo.
"On lawn, in a parody
of Spring and its cherry-tree,
near a vase and parapet,
virgin practising archery.
"Ballerina, black-masked,
near a parapet of alabaster.
'Can one' - somebody asked -
rhyme 'star' and 'disaster'?"
And why do I bring up models? Fashionweekdaily notes the cover models of the August fashion magazines (Natalie, Scarlett, Halle, Naomi, the Presleys).
Out: The VH1 'I Love The 90s' program really, kind of, well, it sucked, true believers, I won't sugar coat it simply because I occasionally write for them. I'm keeping it real, nigga. It's waaay waay too soon to have a retrospective on the 90s. You've got to let an era marinade a bit. Whatevs.org has scored it just about right, with sports metaphors:
"caught the first installment of 'I Love The `90s' yesterday while sprawled on the couch suffering from quite the hangover. can't say that I was impressed by the pundits' commentary on 1990. something was just missing, and it took me almost 24 hours to come up with a suitable analogy. fortunately for you, it just hit me (pun intended). when thinking of this episode, i recall famed longball hitters like Rob Deer and Dave Kingman; while these batters were armed with legendary power at the plate, they just never quite learned that you can't try to hit every single ball out of the ballpark. instead of swinging for the fences and brutally striking out, occasionally a nice Texas Leaguer will do. knowwhatimsayin? so Hal Sparks is kinda like Rob Deer and Michael Ian Black is kinda like Dave Kingman; for every speedball that gets hit into the proverbial lights of The Kingdome, there's a whole lotta whiffin' goin' on."
Whiffin, to be sure, and, one imagines, it is not inconceivable that some huffin' is also involved here, as in -- glue. I Love the 90s might have been better served marinated until, oh, say, 2010, when we could look backwards with the proper ironical distance. This project was ill advised and too hurried.
In: Admit it, Barbara Bush is sexy, with those foxy eyes brimming with intelligence, a site so rare in the Bush family.
Out: Prison Magazines. In today's above-the-fold story on the hardscrabble origins of terrorist Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, Jeffrey Gettleman of the New York Times writes:
"These people, who knew Mr. Zarqawi until he disappeared into the terrorist murk of Afghanistan four years ago, acknowledge that he may have changed. But they say that while the man they knew could be capable of great brutality, they have a hard time imagining him as the guiding light of an Iraqi insurgency.
"'When we would write bad things about him in our prison magazine, he would attack us with his fists,' said Yousef Rababa, who was imprisoned with Mr. Zarqawi for militant activity. 'That's all he could do. He's not like bin Laden with ideas and vision. He had no vision.'"
Prison Magazine?! What the fuck?!
In: People are still raving about Calvin Klein's party on Saturday. Apparently this was really an existential event of quite some consequence, imagine our surprise. Every fucking glossy worth it's weight in platinum has chimed in on the cultural significance of this particular party. "With a waiter to guest ratio of one to three, the party was just grand enough to suit its venue, the sprawling Gothicised Southampton mansion that Klein paid $29.9 million for last year," says British Vogue. "He must have spent $600,000," one source salaciously told my favorite gossip duo, NY Daily News' Rush and Molloy. "And it was all done with class, taste, sexiness and fun." Guy Trebay of the New York Times wrote with a sort of Evelyn Waughish Brideshead Revisited melancholy-flourish, "... it appeared as if it was the Pines of that era that was being evoked at Calvin Klein's big party in Southampton last Saturday, an event that was by turns enchanted, confounding and suffused with nostalgia for a period when Mr. Klein, and the world of fashion as it is now, were still young." After reading Trebay gushing forth unselfconsciously, I thought I almost -- almost -- heard Jeremy Irons' world weary narrative voice coming from PBS. Gawker's source was snarky, the realist in the crowd, putting things all into perspective and snapping us out of our Bovaryesque reveries:
"the party calvin threw at his spookycastle/beach house on saturday was the most over the top bizarre. i mean, i am gay, but it was too gross to watch 200 young ("hired"?) half-naked men lounging around on pillows and bed-like furniture on the beach at night, with snickering old guard southampton socials staring in disbelief and laughing at them.
" ... there were even rumors that (ex studio 54) party planner robert isabell bulldozed the beach in preparation for the party. sick. the guest list was supposedly 200, then 400, try 800 of his 'nearest and dearest.' but crashers abounded and no one was even checking the guest list. the page sixers were there, trolling for items, and calvin was deeply conflicted, or confused, because we saw him ask patrick mcmullan to stop taking pictures... why invite him then? ps no body was wearing his clothes. yes, this was a $600,000 party that backfired."
Out: Teresa Heinz Kerry, willful blabbermouth, picklehead. Can someone put a fucking muzzle on her already? I know, I know: not four days ago, here I was, on this very blog, fascinated -- in true shallow Gemini fashion -- by her Mozambique-by-way-of-Swiss accent, and now? What? I repent. I can't take her eccentric $500 million twaddle. Teresa is form without content, an elegant international-flavored accent without the appropriate thoughtfulness, sophistication or polish: don't get distracted by the odd accent, the woman is dangerous! In many ways, she reminds me of stupid self-indulgent billionaires, like Ross Perot, or plantation owners, or British lords; they are so used to servants or slaves hanging on their every word, that thoughtfulness goes by the wayside and what we get, in due course, is logorrhea. According to Page Six, "THAT Teresa Heinz Kerry surprised and worried some of the 1,000 guests at Friday morning's Women for Kerry breakfast when she looked out at the crowd and said, 'We had better get you women some birth control, there are so many of you here!' Yikes."
In: IWantMedia's interview with "Outfoxed" Producer/Director Robert Greenwald captures the discomfort that some conservatives The Corsair knows (yes, The Corsair socializes with conservatives) have with the Fox News:
"IWM: What did you discover that surprised you the most while working on 'Outfoxed'?
"Greenwald: I thought going into this we would discover what we all knew -- that Fox News is a conservative news network, with an opinion relative to a conservative look at the world. But what I found is more troubling, more upsetting and more critical to democracy: Fox News is a Republican news network. It takes a Republican line, which is different from a conservative line.
"There are many well-meaning, thoughtful conservatives who disagree with the Bush administration about the war, about the tax cuts, about the economy, about [ex-White House terrorism advisor] Richard Clarke ... None of that is ever seen on Fox News because they consistently support the political line that the Republican party will take at any given time, which is different from a conservative philosophy or approach."
In all fairness, Fox has blasted back. Howard Kurtz has torched the film. And Variety gave it a mixed review.
Out: Gena Lee "Swollen" (AKA Gena Lee Nolin). That significant cultural artifact The National Enquirer informs us, mirabile dictu, that, "Gena Lee Nolin has finally made the journey from 'Baywatch' to 'Pay Watch' -- her long-awaited X-rated video has hit the Internet!" Charmed, I'm sure.
In: Models. So hott, everyone loves the aristocratic model, gliding down Prince Street in Soho ("the existential catwalk"), munching on rabbit food, portfolio in hand, ignoring the catcalls of the construction workers. (The Corsair sighs) Incidentally: Vladimir Nabokov's poetry appears to be all but forgotten in these United States of Amnesia, not to mention the works of John Dos Passos, Hannah Arendt and Jean Toomer, among other American artists who have vanished in the pop cultural buzz.
But Vladimir Nabokov's Ode To A Model is particularly relevant:
"I have followed you, model,
in magazine ads through all seasons,
from dead leaf on the sod
to red leaf on the breeze,
"from your lily-white armpit
to the tip of your butterfly eyelash,
charming and pitiful,
silly and stylish.
"Or in kneesocks and tartan
standing there like some fabulous symbol,
parted feet pointed outward
? pedal form of akimbo.
"On lawn, in a parody
of Spring and its cherry-tree,
near a vase and parapet,
virgin practising archery.
"Ballerina, black-masked,
near a parapet of alabaster.
'Can one' - somebody asked -
rhyme 'star' and 'disaster'?"
And why do I bring up models? Fashionweekdaily notes the cover models of the August fashion magazines (Natalie, Scarlett, Halle, Naomi, the Presleys).
Out: The VH1 'I Love The 90s' program really, kind of, well, it sucked, true believers, I won't sugar coat it simply because I occasionally write for them. I'm keeping it real, nigga. It's waaay waay too soon to have a retrospective on the 90s. You've got to let an era marinade a bit. Whatevs.org has scored it just about right, with sports metaphors:
"caught the first installment of 'I Love The `90s' yesterday while sprawled on the couch suffering from quite the hangover. can't say that I was impressed by the pundits' commentary on 1990. something was just missing, and it took me almost 24 hours to come up with a suitable analogy. fortunately for you, it just hit me (pun intended). when thinking of this episode, i recall famed longball hitters like Rob Deer and Dave Kingman; while these batters were armed with legendary power at the plate, they just never quite learned that you can't try to hit every single ball out of the ballpark. instead of swinging for the fences and brutally striking out, occasionally a nice Texas Leaguer will do. knowwhatimsayin? so Hal Sparks is kinda like Rob Deer and Michael Ian Black is kinda like Dave Kingman; for every speedball that gets hit into the proverbial lights of The Kingdome, there's a whole lotta whiffin' goin' on."
Whiffin, to be sure, and, one imagines, it is not inconceivable that some huffin' is also involved here, as in -- glue. I Love the 90s might have been better served marinated until, oh, say, 2010, when we could look backwards with the proper ironical distance. This project was ill advised and too hurried.
In: Admit it, Barbara Bush is sexy, with those foxy eyes brimming with intelligence, a site so rare in the Bush family.
Out: Prison Magazines. In today's above-the-fold story on the hardscrabble origins of terrorist Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, Jeffrey Gettleman of the New York Times writes:
"These people, who knew Mr. Zarqawi until he disappeared into the terrorist murk of Afghanistan four years ago, acknowledge that he may have changed. But they say that while the man they knew could be capable of great brutality, they have a hard time imagining him as the guiding light of an Iraqi insurgency.
"'When we would write bad things about him in our prison magazine, he would attack us with his fists,' said Yousef Rababa, who was imprisoned with Mr. Zarqawi for militant activity. 'That's all he could do. He's not like bin Laden with ideas and vision. He had no vision.'"
Prison Magazine?! What the fuck?!
Paul McCartney's Eccentricities
Teresa Heinz Kerry has been rich and powerful -- had servants catering to her every wish, had every whim satisfied -- for so long that she has become, like Ross Perot, like the English Lords, or even like wealthy Southern Plantation owners, such as the ones portrayed by William Faulkner, eccentric.
And so has Paul McCartney, the egalitarian Baby Boomer liberal icon, ironically enough.
Eccentrics say such odd and, at times, stupid things because their minds have no automatic filtration devices -- and why should they. They are not like us, they don't care what other people think about them so long as their Mint Julep (Southern eccentric) or Gin glass (British Lord) is full, and someone is listening -- or at least appearing to listen to -- their boorish stories about the "The War Against Northern Aggression," or "The Battle of the Bulge," or, "The Somme," or, say, in the case of Teresa Heinz Kerry (pronounced Tuh-RAY-zuh), prenuptual agreements and fuel-efficient four-wheel drive vehicles. You just know at some point soon Teresa is going to cause a nuclear explosion and have to be muzzled for the sake of the party. Did the plantation owner care about offending his slave, did the British Duke care about feeding the servants tins of sardines, like the cats, while his own hounds ate fresh salmon? Of course not. That would be bourgeois.
Paul McCartney has been rich and famous for so long that, like the other Lords, he is acquiring their characteristic idiosyncrasies:
The 3 AM Girls report:
"HEs one of the oldest rockers on the block and Paul McCartneys picked up some eccentric behaviour during his 47-year career.
"On his recent European tour, the veteran crooner 'freaked out' when a vase of lilies was left in his Madrid hotel room. He thought they were using up too much oxygen, were told."
The Corsair grabs a bag of unsalted popcorn and sits riveted to his screen.
"And that wasnt the only incident that took his entourage by surprise on the sell-out 14-date Live Experience extravaganza.
"'Everybody knows that Paul banned all meat and meat by-products on the entire tour,' says our mole.
"'But what isnt known is just how particular he is about other things, too.
"'Hes a huge fan of flowers but they have to be certain varieties from reputable florists.
"'Plants have to be as full at the bottom as they are at the top and he doesnt like tree trunks so indoor trees are forbidden.'"
The Corsair mouths the words -- "eccentric."
"And furniture has to come up to the former Beatles exacting standards, too. 'Paul likes to entertain and requests two banqueting tables in every place he stops,' our source goes on.
"'But they have to be made from sustainable wood. Glass and lacquer are forbidden as the methods used to produce them can be harmful to the environment.'"
The Corsair averts his gaze.
"Paul whose wife Heather gave birth to the couple?s first child, Beatrice, last October even insists his crew abide by his beliefs.
"'Paul is very keen on recycling and made sure everyone on the tour made full use of the facilities he arranged.
"'The rubbish bins had to be policed at regular intervals throughout the day. If Paul found out that recyclable materials were being thrown out with the ordinary trash, thered have been hell to pay.'
"Pauls veggie-friendly requirements also gave tour staff a headache.
"'Paul insists that no leather or animal skins are used anywhere near him,' explains our insider. 'He goes mad if hes even near fake animal prints.'"
The Corsair nods his head uncontrollably, making sociological field notes in his notebook on eccentrics and their feelings of control over reality.
"He likes to travel in a limousine but leather seats tend to come as standard in limos. Venue staff had to ensure that seats were re-covered in time for his arrival and then changed back.
"'You dont say no to the likes of Sir Paul.'"
No, (The Corsair scornfully averts his gaze), one does not, I suppose, nor does one say no to PD Wodehouse's charming Lord Emsworth, Ross Perot, Howard Hughes, or James Compson III in Faulkner's Sound and the Fury.
Teresa Heinz Kerry has been rich and powerful -- had servants catering to her every wish, had every whim satisfied -- for so long that she has become, like Ross Perot, like the English Lords, or even like wealthy Southern Plantation owners, such as the ones portrayed by William Faulkner, eccentric.
And so has Paul McCartney, the egalitarian Baby Boomer liberal icon, ironically enough.
Eccentrics say such odd and, at times, stupid things because their minds have no automatic filtration devices -- and why should they. They are not like us, they don't care what other people think about them so long as their Mint Julep (Southern eccentric) or Gin glass (British Lord) is full, and someone is listening -- or at least appearing to listen to -- their boorish stories about the "The War Against Northern Aggression," or "The Battle of the Bulge," or, "The Somme," or, say, in the case of Teresa Heinz Kerry (pronounced Tuh-RAY-zuh), prenuptual agreements and fuel-efficient four-wheel drive vehicles. You just know at some point soon Teresa is going to cause a nuclear explosion and have to be muzzled for the sake of the party. Did the plantation owner care about offending his slave, did the British Duke care about feeding the servants tins of sardines, like the cats, while his own hounds ate fresh salmon? Of course not. That would be bourgeois.
Paul McCartney has been rich and famous for so long that, like the other Lords, he is acquiring their characteristic idiosyncrasies:
The 3 AM Girls report:
"HEs one of the oldest rockers on the block and Paul McCartneys picked up some eccentric behaviour during his 47-year career.
"On his recent European tour, the veteran crooner 'freaked out' when a vase of lilies was left in his Madrid hotel room. He thought they were using up too much oxygen, were told."
The Corsair grabs a bag of unsalted popcorn and sits riveted to his screen.
"And that wasnt the only incident that took his entourage by surprise on the sell-out 14-date Live Experience extravaganza.
"'Everybody knows that Paul banned all meat and meat by-products on the entire tour,' says our mole.
"'But what isnt known is just how particular he is about other things, too.
"'Hes a huge fan of flowers but they have to be certain varieties from reputable florists.
"'Plants have to be as full at the bottom as they are at the top and he doesnt like tree trunks so indoor trees are forbidden.'"
The Corsair mouths the words -- "eccentric."
"And furniture has to come up to the former Beatles exacting standards, too. 'Paul likes to entertain and requests two banqueting tables in every place he stops,' our source goes on.
"'But they have to be made from sustainable wood. Glass and lacquer are forbidden as the methods used to produce them can be harmful to the environment.'"
The Corsair averts his gaze.
"Paul whose wife Heather gave birth to the couple?s first child, Beatrice, last October even insists his crew abide by his beliefs.
"'Paul is very keen on recycling and made sure everyone on the tour made full use of the facilities he arranged.
"'The rubbish bins had to be policed at regular intervals throughout the day. If Paul found out that recyclable materials were being thrown out with the ordinary trash, thered have been hell to pay.'
"Pauls veggie-friendly requirements also gave tour staff a headache.
"'Paul insists that no leather or animal skins are used anywhere near him,' explains our insider. 'He goes mad if hes even near fake animal prints.'"
The Corsair nods his head uncontrollably, making sociological field notes in his notebook on eccentrics and their feelings of control over reality.
"He likes to travel in a limousine but leather seats tend to come as standard in limos. Venue staff had to ensure that seats were re-covered in time for his arrival and then changed back.
"'You dont say no to the likes of Sir Paul.'"
No, (The Corsair scornfully averts his gaze), one does not, I suppose, nor does one say no to PD Wodehouse's charming Lord Emsworth, Ross Perot, Howard Hughes, or James Compson III in Faulkner's Sound and the Fury.
Monday, July 12, 2004
The Gossip Wars
Vanessa Grigoriadis and Jacob Bernstein's New York Magazine article on The Gossip Wars goes a bit too far in echoing Adam Moss' Party Line on gossip (2nd item), with a mild aftertaste of Puritanical Old Gray Lady in the cut:
"One way of thinking about gossip is as the most primitive form of journalism -- nasty and brutish and short. The rules of sourcing, and even of truthfulness, are not fully developed. Vengeance and anger and ulterior motives all have a place in the process. The denizens of the gossip world, while sometimes not suited for the refinements of the rest of the journalism world, are superbly adapted to their environment. There's a dark glamour and camaraderie to the business, a certain piratical, swashbuckling aura, amplified by plenty of cocktails."
Leaving aside for a moment the dodgy "piratical." "swashbuckling" references and to whom they might or might not be referring ("Hey, Mozart's Don Giovanni was all about ME, too"), there is alot of darkness going on in this piece -- alot -- even going beyond the rather clumsy "short and brutish" reference to Hobbes' theory of the condition of mankind.
In fact, in some of her purplest prose passages, Vanessa Grigoriadis appears to have channeled her inner Edgar Allan Poe, throwing light on "the denizens of the gossip world," with just the right touch of the old Gray Lady's Puritanical prudishness thrown in for effect, giving the whole thing a colonial, turgid Nathaniel Hawthorne New England freakshow vibe (Is gossip the House of the Seven Gables?).
The Corsairshivereded into the chill night breeze, as Grigoriadis' tale of supernatural and psychological horror unfolds, issuing forth from her fertile imagination, with lines such as:
"His background suited him to knowing what evil lurked in the hearts of men ..."
And, of course: "... The denizens of the gossip world ..."
"Vona has a deep voice and a mane of dirty-blonde hair ..."
"... But Spiegelman also saw himself as one of the good guys, arrayed against the abusers and predators and vampires in the world."
"He is adamant: 'There was no defenestration.'"
"... a taste for the darker things in life."
"The cockatoo shrieks."
Indeed (Averted gaze), The cockatoo shrieks, Ms. Grigoriadis, (The Corsair shivers at the bone white moon in the hour of the wolf); and quoth the raven nevermore. Finally, Dark Vanessa tosses off vaguely supernatural references to, the "black art of press-baiting," "Cassandras," "poison pill," and, of course, "a steady inflow of dirt."
The Corsair wonders if Vanessa Grigoriadis' feverish and occultish philosophy of gossip (so strikingly similar to her boss, Adam Moss') might have been better scheduled as a piece for Halloween?
I know I won't be able to sleep soundly tonight.
Vanessa Grigoriadis and Jacob Bernstein's New York Magazine article on The Gossip Wars goes a bit too far in echoing Adam Moss' Party Line on gossip (2nd item), with a mild aftertaste of Puritanical Old Gray Lady in the cut:
"One way of thinking about gossip is as the most primitive form of journalism -- nasty and brutish and short. The rules of sourcing, and even of truthfulness, are not fully developed. Vengeance and anger and ulterior motives all have a place in the process. The denizens of the gossip world, while sometimes not suited for the refinements of the rest of the journalism world, are superbly adapted to their environment. There's a dark glamour and camaraderie to the business, a certain piratical, swashbuckling aura, amplified by plenty of cocktails."
Leaving aside for a moment the dodgy "piratical." "swashbuckling" references and to whom they might or might not be referring ("Hey, Mozart's Don Giovanni was all about ME, too"), there is alot of darkness going on in this piece -- alot -- even going beyond the rather clumsy "short and brutish" reference to Hobbes' theory of the condition of mankind.
In fact, in some of her purplest prose passages, Vanessa Grigoriadis appears to have channeled her inner Edgar Allan Poe, throwing light on "the denizens of the gossip world," with just the right touch of the old Gray Lady's Puritanical prudishness thrown in for effect, giving the whole thing a colonial, turgid Nathaniel Hawthorne New England freakshow vibe (Is gossip the House of the Seven Gables?).
The Corsairshivereded into the chill night breeze, as Grigoriadis' tale of supernatural and psychological horror unfolds, issuing forth from her fertile imagination, with lines such as:
"His background suited him to knowing what evil lurked in the hearts of men ..."
And, of course: "... The denizens of the gossip world ..."
"Vona has a deep voice and a mane of dirty-blonde hair ..."
"... But Spiegelman also saw himself as one of the good guys, arrayed against the abusers and predators and vampires in the world."
"He is adamant: 'There was no defenestration.'"
"... a taste for the darker things in life."
"The cockatoo shrieks."
Indeed (Averted gaze), The cockatoo shrieks, Ms. Grigoriadis, (The Corsair shivers at the bone white moon in the hour of the wolf); and quoth the raven nevermore. Finally, Dark Vanessa tosses off vaguely supernatural references to, the "black art of press-baiting," "Cassandras," "poison pill," and, of course, "a steady inflow of dirt."
The Corsair wonders if Vanessa Grigoriadis' feverish and occultish philosophy of gossip (so strikingly similar to her boss, Adam Moss') might have been better scheduled as a piece for Halloween?
I know I won't be able to sleep soundly tonight.
A Little of the Old In and Out
In: Avril Lavigne, keeping in character as the tough grrrl, making it in the seedy music industry on her own terms, by her own wits, has snubbed the House of Windsor, according to The Sun (link via Ananova):
"HE has met just about every gorgeous pop star � but PRINCE CHARLES isn�t good enough for AVRIL LAVIGNE.
"The Canadian rocker pulled out of meeting the Prince of Wales at Capital FM�s Party In The Park in London yesterday with just hours to spare, throwing organisers into a panic.
"The pop rocker and R&B star JAMELIA were due to sit either side of Charles as he watched the end of the show in aid of the Prince�s Trust in Hyde Park.
"But flustered flunkeys were told Avril would not be showing. A backstage insider told me: 'Avril wasn�t keen on the idea. She wanted to get away as soon as she completed her set.'"
Is Avril's bad nutrition to blame? Or is she just a surprisingly strong and independent young woman. We like.
In: Stefano Pilati has been annointed with holy oil, according to British Vogue:
"YVES SAINT LAURENT has given the ultimate seal of approval to YSL Rive Gauche designer Stefano Pilati by agreeing to attend his spring/summer 2005 show in October. 'I'm completely confident in him,' the 69-year-old designer told Women's Wear Daily. 'He's a real worker. I feel liberated.' Laurent famously disapproved of Tom Ford, who played creative director of YSL Rive Gauche from January 2000 to April 2004. Accusing him of 'destroying everything' at the house, Laurent said Ford's work was 'contrary to Yves Saint Laurent. It was Saint Laurent in name but not in its vitality.' Pilati, however, is expected to save the day. 'I think [he] will be able to repair the damage that's been done to the YSL culture and to re-establish the dialogue with the YSL customer,' he said recently."
Out: I see white people. As Fashionweekdaily notes, 'Vanity Fair is throwing a party to launch Abercrombie & Fitch�s new A&F Magazine on Wednesday at The Gansevoort Hotel.' Be sure to wear your sunglasses, true believers, because, otherwise, you just might get blinded by the white (check out the 2nd item) as the combination of Amercrombie and Fitch and Vanity Fair break bread. You know what kind of bread.
In: Fashionweekdaily reports on the September Vogue issue:
"The Daily has learned exclusively that Vogue�s September 2004 issue will be its largest issue ever in the history of the magazine. According to sources on the publishing side of Vogue, the annual fall fashion issue�one of the most highly anticipated issues of the year�will contain over 620 pages of advertisements (the previous record for ad pages was 619) and combined with the estimated 200-plus pages of editorial, the final page count could teeter well into the 850-plus page range, as ad pages continue to come in. 'This issue will set a record as the largest monthly magazine ever published,' said a well-placed executive inside Cond� Nast."
Out: Gwyneth Paltrow. Medieval medicine, of which The Corsair has more than just a passing interest, explicitly warns against Libra's partaking in the ancient art of "cupping." Perhaps this was the subterfuge that compelled Hollywood Libra Paltrow to act in such an appalling manner, as The New York Post's resident cutie-pie Elisa Lipsky-Karasz to report:
"The star hosted a bridal shower for childhood friend Mary Wigmore at a private home on Perry Street last week but shocked guests by acting aloof and antisocial. And when Wigmore opened a present from her future mother-in-law, Paltrow apparently took one look at the gift and smirked, 'Filene's!'"
Cupping or not, the fact that Paltrow is -- in essence -- a snooty blonde Spense girl at heart may have something to do with her demeanor. For those of us who have known and loved these rare, shallow beauties (The Corsair sulks, bitterly sipping Cutty Sark, recalling his past) -- trust us on this one -- this is quite actually in character.
In: LA.com/blog's blind item is interesting -- fuck if I know who it is, though:
"You know him. You love him. If you buy into that straight-arrow-active-guy image carefully constructed by him and his well-paid but overworked peeps, you probably think he hit Hollywood straight from Mayberry and now lives in a cottage on Sesame Street. It turns out there are more than a few twists and turns in this jovial dude�s internal roadmap. Just ask the new owners of the posh vintage LA manse they purchased from the movie favorite. Being typically paranoid Angelenos, they didn�t bat an eyelash at the speaker system that had let the big shot former owner eavesdrop on any conversation on the entire property, let alone at the tiny security cameras that let him snoop in every nook and cranny. But you would have thought that before the guy started packing up all those Bekins boxes, he would have plastered over the super-secret peepholes he had drilled in every guest bathroom and bedroom."
Why are people from LA so goddamned wierd and into "surveillance"? When did spying become a part of LA chic? It's all so ... oily ... so Stallone.
Out: Newly cyber friendly A-Lister Will Smith, gearing up to the gear heads as his film, I, Robot, rockets to screens, tells TeenHollywood (link via Ananova) that he sees downloading piracy as linked to oceanic piracy and, therefore, is inevitable and unstoppable ... what the fuck?!
"My take is, 'OK, there were pirates 1,000 years ago - there is no reason for us to think that we'll live without them in the year 2004.'
"'It's always going to be there. In keeping with my intuitive comprehension of the universe, it would be foolish of me to upset myself with something that always has been and always will be.'"
In keeping with my intuitive comprehension of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, it would be foolish of me to upset myself with someone who, while at the top of his game in Hollywood, allowed himself to play Bagger Vance, a stepin' fetchit role if The Corsair -- a blog pirate -- ever saw one.
In: Avril Lavigne, keeping in character as the tough grrrl, making it in the seedy music industry on her own terms, by her own wits, has snubbed the House of Windsor, according to The Sun (link via Ananova):
"HE has met just about every gorgeous pop star � but PRINCE CHARLES isn�t good enough for AVRIL LAVIGNE.
"The Canadian rocker pulled out of meeting the Prince of Wales at Capital FM�s Party In The Park in London yesterday with just hours to spare, throwing organisers into a panic.
"The pop rocker and R&B star JAMELIA were due to sit either side of Charles as he watched the end of the show in aid of the Prince�s Trust in Hyde Park.
"But flustered flunkeys were told Avril would not be showing. A backstage insider told me: 'Avril wasn�t keen on the idea. She wanted to get away as soon as she completed her set.'"
Is Avril's bad nutrition to blame? Or is she just a surprisingly strong and independent young woman. We like.
In: Stefano Pilati has been annointed with holy oil, according to British Vogue:
"YVES SAINT LAURENT has given the ultimate seal of approval to YSL Rive Gauche designer Stefano Pilati by agreeing to attend his spring/summer 2005 show in October. 'I'm completely confident in him,' the 69-year-old designer told Women's Wear Daily. 'He's a real worker. I feel liberated.' Laurent famously disapproved of Tom Ford, who played creative director of YSL Rive Gauche from January 2000 to April 2004. Accusing him of 'destroying everything' at the house, Laurent said Ford's work was 'contrary to Yves Saint Laurent. It was Saint Laurent in name but not in its vitality.' Pilati, however, is expected to save the day. 'I think [he] will be able to repair the damage that's been done to the YSL culture and to re-establish the dialogue with the YSL customer,' he said recently."
Out: I see white people. As Fashionweekdaily notes, 'Vanity Fair is throwing a party to launch Abercrombie & Fitch�s new A&F Magazine on Wednesday at The Gansevoort Hotel.' Be sure to wear your sunglasses, true believers, because, otherwise, you just might get blinded by the white (check out the 2nd item) as the combination of Amercrombie and Fitch and Vanity Fair break bread. You know what kind of bread.
In: Fashionweekdaily reports on the September Vogue issue:
"The Daily has learned exclusively that Vogue�s September 2004 issue will be its largest issue ever in the history of the magazine. According to sources on the publishing side of Vogue, the annual fall fashion issue�one of the most highly anticipated issues of the year�will contain over 620 pages of advertisements (the previous record for ad pages was 619) and combined with the estimated 200-plus pages of editorial, the final page count could teeter well into the 850-plus page range, as ad pages continue to come in. 'This issue will set a record as the largest monthly magazine ever published,' said a well-placed executive inside Cond� Nast."
Out: Gwyneth Paltrow. Medieval medicine, of which The Corsair has more than just a passing interest, explicitly warns against Libra's partaking in the ancient art of "cupping." Perhaps this was the subterfuge that compelled Hollywood Libra Paltrow to act in such an appalling manner, as The New York Post's resident cutie-pie Elisa Lipsky-Karasz to report:
"The star hosted a bridal shower for childhood friend Mary Wigmore at a private home on Perry Street last week but shocked guests by acting aloof and antisocial. And when Wigmore opened a present from her future mother-in-law, Paltrow apparently took one look at the gift and smirked, 'Filene's!'"
Cupping or not, the fact that Paltrow is -- in essence -- a snooty blonde Spense girl at heart may have something to do with her demeanor. For those of us who have known and loved these rare, shallow beauties (The Corsair sulks, bitterly sipping Cutty Sark, recalling his past) -- trust us on this one -- this is quite actually in character.
In: LA.com/blog's blind item is interesting -- fuck if I know who it is, though:
"You know him. You love him. If you buy into that straight-arrow-active-guy image carefully constructed by him and his well-paid but overworked peeps, you probably think he hit Hollywood straight from Mayberry and now lives in a cottage on Sesame Street. It turns out there are more than a few twists and turns in this jovial dude�s internal roadmap. Just ask the new owners of the posh vintage LA manse they purchased from the movie favorite. Being typically paranoid Angelenos, they didn�t bat an eyelash at the speaker system that had let the big shot former owner eavesdrop on any conversation on the entire property, let alone at the tiny security cameras that let him snoop in every nook and cranny. But you would have thought that before the guy started packing up all those Bekins boxes, he would have plastered over the super-secret peepholes he had drilled in every guest bathroom and bedroom."
Why are people from LA so goddamned wierd and into "surveillance"? When did spying become a part of LA chic? It's all so ... oily ... so Stallone.
Out: Newly cyber friendly A-Lister Will Smith, gearing up to the gear heads as his film, I, Robot, rockets to screens, tells TeenHollywood (link via Ananova) that he sees downloading piracy as linked to oceanic piracy and, therefore, is inevitable and unstoppable ... what the fuck?!
"My take is, 'OK, there were pirates 1,000 years ago - there is no reason for us to think that we'll live without them in the year 2004.'
"'It's always going to be there. In keeping with my intuitive comprehension of the universe, it would be foolish of me to upset myself with something that always has been and always will be.'"
In keeping with my intuitive comprehension of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, it would be foolish of me to upset myself with someone who, while at the top of his game in Hollywood, allowed himself to play Bagger Vance, a stepin' fetchit role if The Corsair -- a blog pirate -- ever saw one.
Weezy's Movin' On Up
This just in, according to the AP:
"Actress Isabelle Sanford, best known as 'Weezie,' Louise Jefferson on the television sitcom 'The Jeffersons,' died of natural causes, her publicist said Monday. She was 86.
"Sanford died Friday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, where she had been hospitalized since July 4, said Brad Lemack. Her daughter, Pamela Ruff, was at her side, he said.
"Her health had waned after undergoing preventive surgery on a neck artery 10 months ago, Lemack said. He did not give a cause of death.
After working as the maid Louise on All in The Family, her fortunes changed, mirroring the upward mobility of African-Americans, so she moved to a deeluxe apartment in the sky, in The Jeffersons. The AP report continues:
"In 1981, Sanford became the first black woman to receive an Emmy for Best Actress in a Comedy Series for her work on 'The Jeffersons.'"
Isabelle Sanford, along with Sherman Helmsley, played perhaps the first rich, strong role models to African-Americans in the wake of the civil rights struggle, and she will be sorely missed, particularly by my generation.
Isabelle Sanford, RIP
This just in, according to the AP:
"Actress Isabelle Sanford, best known as 'Weezie,' Louise Jefferson on the television sitcom 'The Jeffersons,' died of natural causes, her publicist said Monday. She was 86.
"Sanford died Friday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, where she had been hospitalized since July 4, said Brad Lemack. Her daughter, Pamela Ruff, was at her side, he said.
"Her health had waned after undergoing preventive surgery on a neck artery 10 months ago, Lemack said. He did not give a cause of death.
After working as the maid Louise on All in The Family, her fortunes changed, mirroring the upward mobility of African-Americans, so she moved to a deeluxe apartment in the sky, in The Jeffersons. The AP report continues:
"In 1981, Sanford became the first black woman to receive an Emmy for Best Actress in a Comedy Series for her work on 'The Jeffersons.'"
Isabelle Sanford, along with Sherman Helmsley, played perhaps the first rich, strong role models to African-Americans in the wake of the civil rights struggle, and she will be sorely missed, particularly by my generation.
Isabelle Sanford, RIP
Saturday, July 10, 2004
The Frugal Gourmet Dies
Jeff Smith, the Frugal Gourmet has died in his sleep. Judith Blake of the Seattle Times writes very even handedly about a sensitive subject:
"Jeff Smith, the once-celebrated 'Frugal Gourmet' TV chef who fell from grace, was a hard man to peg.
"To some, the Seattle-based Smith, who died Wednesday, was a 'genius' of food and the culture surrounding it. His high spirits, acts of generosity and stalwart friendship, they say, were the true measure of the man.
"To others, he was a tyrant of the public-TV production set, a tireless self-promoter and a chef of mediocre culinary talent.
"He was accused in three lawsuits of sexually abusing some of the young men who worked for him, ending his television career in the 1990s.
"When Mr. Smith died, at age 65, those questions still surrounded him."
According to a Jump the Shark posters, "It jumped the shark at the end, when Mr. Gourmet sexually harassed his male assistant and it was hushed up. I think this was PBS's greatest scandal. Other than that though, the recipes were great. I really miss it. I'd probably still watch the show. I don't care that Mr. Gourmet is a poof."
Would that it were only that simple. Another poster on Jump the Shark amplifies:
"This show jumped when it was clear that Craig was more than the Frugal Gourmet's 'assistant.' During Craig's first year, he made an occasional appearance helping the Frug' chop onions or something. Then as the months progressed more and more shows featured Craig and his talents. Then if you watched the videos of the trips to Spain and Rome, you wondered ... why is Craig featured in every snippet? Of course, once the Frug' got arrested for his questionable activities with young boys, it all became painfully clear."
Jeff Smith was a haunted man who now, if you go in for that sort of thing, has a reckoning. And if you don't he is now presiding over a frugal gourmet for a certain convocation of politic worms, not where he eats, but where he is eaten.
Jeff Smith, RIP
Jeff Smith, the Frugal Gourmet has died in his sleep. Judith Blake of the Seattle Times writes very even handedly about a sensitive subject:
"Jeff Smith, the once-celebrated 'Frugal Gourmet' TV chef who fell from grace, was a hard man to peg.
"To some, the Seattle-based Smith, who died Wednesday, was a 'genius' of food and the culture surrounding it. His high spirits, acts of generosity and stalwart friendship, they say, were the true measure of the man.
"To others, he was a tyrant of the public-TV production set, a tireless self-promoter and a chef of mediocre culinary talent.
"He was accused in three lawsuits of sexually abusing some of the young men who worked for him, ending his television career in the 1990s.
"When Mr. Smith died, at age 65, those questions still surrounded him."
According to a Jump the Shark posters, "It jumped the shark at the end, when Mr. Gourmet sexually harassed his male assistant and it was hushed up. I think this was PBS's greatest scandal. Other than that though, the recipes were great. I really miss it. I'd probably still watch the show. I don't care that Mr. Gourmet is a poof."
Would that it were only that simple. Another poster on Jump the Shark amplifies:
"This show jumped when it was clear that Craig was more than the Frugal Gourmet's 'assistant.' During Craig's first year, he made an occasional appearance helping the Frug' chop onions or something. Then as the months progressed more and more shows featured Craig and his talents. Then if you watched the videos of the trips to Spain and Rome, you wondered ... why is Craig featured in every snippet? Of course, once the Frug' got arrested for his questionable activities with young boys, it all became painfully clear."
Jeff Smith was a haunted man who now, if you go in for that sort of thing, has a reckoning. And if you don't he is now presiding over a frugal gourmet for a certain convocation of politic worms, not where he eats, but where he is eaten.
Jeff Smith, RIP
Elizabeth Hurley's Fashion Diary
According to British Vogue's Fashion Bites:
"ELIZABETH HURLEY wasn't in Paris just to shop this week. The model and actress is having a go at fashion journalism. A diary of her front and backstage experiences will appear in a forthcoming issue of French glossy Citizen K."
The Corsair (wink, wink) managed to attain (wink, wink) a rough draft of some of her notes:
July 6, Galliano Show: Incredible! All those fur lined gowns and opera coats, I must have some of these fairy tale outfits. My American Express Centurion card, oops, I mean "boyfriend," (insert soft chuckle here) Arun Nayar -- what's the difference really? -- is sitting here beside me as I catch the Galliano show. So imaginative, that man. Almost as imaginative as Melania Knauss, who is here with Vogue, where she will write about how she picks out her "trousseaux," which is, I guess, what you get when you snag The Perfect Billionaire. In other words, this nonentity, this Knauss, is marrying The Billionaire Donald, of late NBC TV star, writing for Vogue, trailed by Andre Leon Tally, and I am here with something called Arun Nayar, while writing for Citizen K. I'm about as "happening" as the sink where Alec Wek just went sick. Someone please shoot me.
July 7, Chado Ralph Rucci Couture: Lots of bold statements with animal skins, and crystals embroidered into earth tone fabrics. And speaking of earth tones: Oprah's taking notes, but I looked over at her pad and all it had on it were elaborately drawn pictures of great beefsteaks and juicy briskets. Oprah says she will buy 4 or 5 of Rucci's pieces. She is a billionaire and my last three films have grossed roughly a hundred dollars, what? Someone please shoot me.
July 7, Christian Lacroix Haute Couture: The creme-pleated bustier dress would have looked flattering on me a few years ago. Can't help thinking that my old lover Hugh Grant, that doff, the man who got preferred the ministrations of Divine Brown to my own considerable charms, is now knocking boots with Jemima Goldsmith, of the uber-rich Goldsmiths, and here I am, scribbling for something called Citizen K. Now who'se the wanker. Someone please kill me, while I can still make a decent-looking corpse.
July 9, Gaultier: Thank god Jean Paul Gaultier used sky blue chiffon and forgoing the bread this time around; heaven knows I'm starving myself enough to try and snag a billionaire with a heart condition, and don't need to be reminded of how carbs can thwart that process. Lots of "demi-couture" going on here. His daring wedding gown only reminded me that the skin is just a little bit looser this year, which makes hurts the billionaire prospects. Perhaps I should start lowering my standards? Does the oily John Lovitz still have some of his SNL loot, or has he spent it all on the Playmates yet? Someone please kill me.
July 9, Elie Saab Couture: Lilac, shiffons and diamante accents blah-blah-blah ... what about me, Citizen K Magazine? What about me? I was my generation's Zuleika Dobson, the pretty and winning English girl who would be "taken care of" by the Lords in Sussex. Ten years ago, I wowed the world in my black Versace safety pin dress, and now, my film production company, Simian Films, is worth approximately three hundred dollars. Ah, those wonderful Clinton 90s, the Golden Age of Eurotrash-- Tina Brown ruled Vanity Fair, Emma and Thompson and Kenneth Branagh were the uber-couple, Hugh actually was a celebrity, and I, ah, me, I basked in his reflective glory. The early 90s: When Middle Aged Housewives in the Midwest put their Bingo money into Merchant and Ivory features. Ahh, those were the days. America was a British colony all over again. That was before the loose skin and the regrettable Bedazzled. Someone please shoot me.
According to British Vogue's Fashion Bites:
"ELIZABETH HURLEY wasn't in Paris just to shop this week. The model and actress is having a go at fashion journalism. A diary of her front and backstage experiences will appear in a forthcoming issue of French glossy Citizen K."
The Corsair (wink, wink) managed to attain (wink, wink) a rough draft of some of her notes:
July 6, Galliano Show: Incredible! All those fur lined gowns and opera coats, I must have some of these fairy tale outfits. My American Express Centurion card, oops, I mean "boyfriend," (insert soft chuckle here) Arun Nayar -- what's the difference really? -- is sitting here beside me as I catch the Galliano show. So imaginative, that man. Almost as imaginative as Melania Knauss, who is here with Vogue, where she will write about how she picks out her "trousseaux," which is, I guess, what you get when you snag The Perfect Billionaire. In other words, this nonentity, this Knauss, is marrying The Billionaire Donald, of late NBC TV star, writing for Vogue, trailed by Andre Leon Tally, and I am here with something called Arun Nayar, while writing for Citizen K. I'm about as "happening" as the sink where Alec Wek just went sick. Someone please shoot me.
July 7, Chado Ralph Rucci Couture: Lots of bold statements with animal skins, and crystals embroidered into earth tone fabrics. And speaking of earth tones: Oprah's taking notes, but I looked over at her pad and all it had on it were elaborately drawn pictures of great beefsteaks and juicy briskets. Oprah says she will buy 4 or 5 of Rucci's pieces. She is a billionaire and my last three films have grossed roughly a hundred dollars, what? Someone please shoot me.
July 7, Christian Lacroix Haute Couture: The creme-pleated bustier dress would have looked flattering on me a few years ago. Can't help thinking that my old lover Hugh Grant, that doff, the man who got preferred the ministrations of Divine Brown to my own considerable charms, is now knocking boots with Jemima Goldsmith, of the uber-rich Goldsmiths, and here I am, scribbling for something called Citizen K. Now who'se the wanker. Someone please kill me, while I can still make a decent-looking corpse.
July 9, Gaultier: Thank god Jean Paul Gaultier used sky blue chiffon and forgoing the bread this time around; heaven knows I'm starving myself enough to try and snag a billionaire with a heart condition, and don't need to be reminded of how carbs can thwart that process. Lots of "demi-couture" going on here. His daring wedding gown only reminded me that the skin is just a little bit looser this year, which makes hurts the billionaire prospects. Perhaps I should start lowering my standards? Does the oily John Lovitz still have some of his SNL loot, or has he spent it all on the Playmates yet? Someone please kill me.
July 9, Elie Saab Couture: Lilac, shiffons and diamante accents blah-blah-blah ... what about me, Citizen K Magazine? What about me? I was my generation's Zuleika Dobson, the pretty and winning English girl who would be "taken care of" by the Lords in Sussex. Ten years ago, I wowed the world in my black Versace safety pin dress, and now, my film production company, Simian Films, is worth approximately three hundred dollars. Ah, those wonderful Clinton 90s, the Golden Age of Eurotrash-- Tina Brown ruled Vanity Fair, Emma and Thompson and Kenneth Branagh were the uber-couple, Hugh actually was a celebrity, and I, ah, me, I basked in his reflective glory. The early 90s: When Middle Aged Housewives in the Midwest put their Bingo money into Merchant and Ivory features. Ahh, those were the days. America was a British colony all over again. That was before the loose skin and the regrettable Bedazzled. Someone please shoot me.
A Little of the Old In and Out
In: Monday's New York Magazine piece -- we cannot wait. It's on like Gray Poupon! Gawker takes a sneak peak at a chestnut from Monday's pyrotechnic display also known as New York Magazine's article on the Gossip Wars. And Fashionweekdaily's Daily Spy chimes in:
"New York magazine closed their much-buzzed-about gossip story on Thursday amid a furor of speculation and rumor. Writers Vanessa Grigoriadis and Jacob Bernstein expanded the piece from its initial focus on the dust-up between former Page Six-er Ian Spiegelman and scandalmonger Doug Dechert to comprise an acidic look at the New York gossip machine in general, and seemed intent on dredging up any controversy they could along the way. Spiegelman, Dechert, 'Bad Girl' author Abigail Vona, Lloyd Grove, and Richard Johnson were all photographed for the story, leading some to speculate that it could end up on the cover. There is also buzz that young Bernstein?s byline may not make the cut. Only at New York, kids, only at New York."
Out: All of a sudden ... the whole (The Corsair makes ironic quotation marks with his fingers out of thin air) "America Watches Courtney Love's slow and protracted Nervous Breakdown" routine isn't as ... fun as it was in the Spring. Actually, in point of fact the way it's playing itself out is kind of creeping me out. Things took a David Lynchian turn somewhere and we want to jump the fuck off this ride. Seriously. Courtney is scaring us; and we don't mean the way Lenny Kravitz explains that she ran around her old apartment hallways naked either. The Post reports, "A weeping and cursing Courtney Love was rushed from her SoHo apartment to a hospital wearing a camisole and handcuffs yesterday on her 40th birthday, after telling cops she had an abortion." Whoa! Back that up. Way too much information. Way Waaay too much. I am a media junky, but we are officially -- as of right here right now -- staying away from Court Love.
In: Ultragrrrl put this up on her site and I've been laughing about it for about an hour now, which either says I'm working too hard, or The Ultra is a comedy genius. I'm seriously considering converting to Judaism so that we can get married and issue stunning little mocha-colored kids with sophisticated blogs.
Out: Billionaire Dallas Mavericks owner, Mark Cuban, tells us, "'How could (I) let Steve Nash go?' It?s a question I?m going to hear for a long time. It?s a question Mavs fans deserve an answer to. As best I can, I will try to go through all the logical, illogical, emotional and financial scenarios that we explored in putting together the offer that we thought would keep Steve a Dallas Maverick for the rest of his career." If you like long-winded, rambling basketball stories told by self indulgent and mildly eccentric billionaires, then hot-damn, you might want to go here and forever lose an hour slice of your summer.
In: Marlon Brando's secret tapes. You just know that pretty soon, they will be out, according to that significant cultural artifact The National Enquirer:
"'Marlon secretly tape-recorded his phone calls -- he was the consummate control freak," divulged best-selling author Peter Manso, who wrote the definitive book on the actor's life, 'Brando: The Biography.'
"Marlon Brando secretly taped phone conversations -- and now some of the biggest names in Hollywood are terrified their darkest secrets will be exposed, The ENQUIRER has learned exclusively.
The rotund actor loved nothing more than phoning friends and dishing dirt for hours about the showbiz elite -- and even persuaded Marilyn Monroe to disclose her secrets about the Kennedys, say sources.
"The Hollywood legend spilled gay and straight sex secrets of stars, reveled in details of cheating and sordid affairs, got actors to disclose their mistresses -- and even spoke freely about his own bisexual lifestyle ... all on tape."
I'll give 20-1 odds that it will be all over the web by Thanksgiving. By the way, which one of Brano's multitudes of children will get the Tahitian Atoll, and can islands be inherited?
Out: It looks like this may be the end of Tony Blair:
"British Prime Minister Tony Blair considered resigning last month and had to be persuaded to stay on by senior colleagues, the BBC reported Saturday.
"Blair's office made no comment on the report, saying he had repeatedly insisted when asked about his future that he would lead his ruling Labor party into a third general election expected next year, which analysts predict he would win.
"Blair, who has seen his ratings tumble in opinion polls since last year's war in Iraq (news - web sites), had been 'seriously considering his position' following a series of attacks on his leadership, the broadcaster said in an unsourced report.
"Three cabinet colleagues, Health Secretary John Reid, Culture Secretary Tessa Jowell and Education Secretary Charles Clarke met Blair, urged him not to quit and sought to assure him he had wide government support, it said.
"'I'm not going to speculate on what I see as Westminster gossip,' Jowell told BBC radio Saturday. 'Tony Blair is our prime minister -- the most successful prime minister of modern times. He will continue to lead our government.'"
The Pakistan Daily Times shares some acute observations on the political atmosphere at 10 Downing Street:
"Britain�s Tony Blair looks like taking a fresh hit over Iraq next week on the eve of two closely watched by-elections � events that will help shape the political landscape for an expected 2005 general election.
"Within four days, an inquiry will report on intelligence failings over Iraq�s weaponry, Blair�s government will unveil its public spending plans for the next 3 years and voters could humiliate his Labour Party at the polls.
"With the prime minister�s popularity battered by Iraq, such a combination would have prompted fears of a Labour mutiny two months ago. But parliamentarians and analysts say Blair is on firmer ground now and the timing of events � coming just before parliament breaks for summer � will spare him any long-term damage, whatever the week�s outcome.
"'I don�t sense any conspiracy right now,' said one Labour parliamentarian (MP). 'They won�t be thinking of plotting. They�ll be thinking of their buckets and spades.' Wyn Grant, professor of politics at Warwick University agreed that Blair has survived the worst, 'It�s not plain sailing, but he�s coming into calmer waters.'"
Or, as The Corsair predicts, a deep sea storm.
In: Monday's New York Magazine piece -- we cannot wait. It's on like Gray Poupon! Gawker takes a sneak peak at a chestnut from Monday's pyrotechnic display also known as New York Magazine's article on the Gossip Wars. And Fashionweekdaily's Daily Spy chimes in:
"New York magazine closed their much-buzzed-about gossip story on Thursday amid a furor of speculation and rumor. Writers Vanessa Grigoriadis and Jacob Bernstein expanded the piece from its initial focus on the dust-up between former Page Six-er Ian Spiegelman and scandalmonger Doug Dechert to comprise an acidic look at the New York gossip machine in general, and seemed intent on dredging up any controversy they could along the way. Spiegelman, Dechert, 'Bad Girl' author Abigail Vona, Lloyd Grove, and Richard Johnson were all photographed for the story, leading some to speculate that it could end up on the cover. There is also buzz that young Bernstein?s byline may not make the cut. Only at New York, kids, only at New York."
Out: All of a sudden ... the whole (The Corsair makes ironic quotation marks with his fingers out of thin air) "America Watches Courtney Love's slow and protracted Nervous Breakdown" routine isn't as ... fun as it was in the Spring. Actually, in point of fact the way it's playing itself out is kind of creeping me out. Things took a David Lynchian turn somewhere and we want to jump the fuck off this ride. Seriously. Courtney is scaring us; and we don't mean the way Lenny Kravitz explains that she ran around her old apartment hallways naked either. The Post reports, "A weeping and cursing Courtney Love was rushed from her SoHo apartment to a hospital wearing a camisole and handcuffs yesterday on her 40th birthday, after telling cops she had an abortion." Whoa! Back that up. Way too much information. Way Waaay too much. I am a media junky, but we are officially -- as of right here right now -- staying away from Court Love.
In: Ultragrrrl put this up on her site and I've been laughing about it for about an hour now, which either says I'm working too hard, or The Ultra is a comedy genius. I'm seriously considering converting to Judaism so that we can get married and issue stunning little mocha-colored kids with sophisticated blogs.
Out: Billionaire Dallas Mavericks owner, Mark Cuban, tells us, "'How could (I) let Steve Nash go?' It?s a question I?m going to hear for a long time. It?s a question Mavs fans deserve an answer to. As best I can, I will try to go through all the logical, illogical, emotional and financial scenarios that we explored in putting together the offer that we thought would keep Steve a Dallas Maverick for the rest of his career." If you like long-winded, rambling basketball stories told by self indulgent and mildly eccentric billionaires, then hot-damn, you might want to go here and forever lose an hour slice of your summer.
In: Marlon Brando's secret tapes. You just know that pretty soon, they will be out, according to that significant cultural artifact The National Enquirer:
"'Marlon secretly tape-recorded his phone calls -- he was the consummate control freak," divulged best-selling author Peter Manso, who wrote the definitive book on the actor's life, 'Brando: The Biography.'
"Marlon Brando secretly taped phone conversations -- and now some of the biggest names in Hollywood are terrified their darkest secrets will be exposed, The ENQUIRER has learned exclusively.
The rotund actor loved nothing more than phoning friends and dishing dirt for hours about the showbiz elite -- and even persuaded Marilyn Monroe to disclose her secrets about the Kennedys, say sources.
"The Hollywood legend spilled gay and straight sex secrets of stars, reveled in details of cheating and sordid affairs, got actors to disclose their mistresses -- and even spoke freely about his own bisexual lifestyle ... all on tape."
I'll give 20-1 odds that it will be all over the web by Thanksgiving. By the way, which one of Brano's multitudes of children will get the Tahitian Atoll, and can islands be inherited?
Out: It looks like this may be the end of Tony Blair:
"British Prime Minister Tony Blair considered resigning last month and had to be persuaded to stay on by senior colleagues, the BBC reported Saturday.
"Blair's office made no comment on the report, saying he had repeatedly insisted when asked about his future that he would lead his ruling Labor party into a third general election expected next year, which analysts predict he would win.
"Blair, who has seen his ratings tumble in opinion polls since last year's war in Iraq (news - web sites), had been 'seriously considering his position' following a series of attacks on his leadership, the broadcaster said in an unsourced report.
"Three cabinet colleagues, Health Secretary John Reid, Culture Secretary Tessa Jowell and Education Secretary Charles Clarke met Blair, urged him not to quit and sought to assure him he had wide government support, it said.
"'I'm not going to speculate on what I see as Westminster gossip,' Jowell told BBC radio Saturday. 'Tony Blair is our prime minister -- the most successful prime minister of modern times. He will continue to lead our government.'"
The Pakistan Daily Times shares some acute observations on the political atmosphere at 10 Downing Street:
"Britain�s Tony Blair looks like taking a fresh hit over Iraq next week on the eve of two closely watched by-elections � events that will help shape the political landscape for an expected 2005 general election.
"Within four days, an inquiry will report on intelligence failings over Iraq�s weaponry, Blair�s government will unveil its public spending plans for the next 3 years and voters could humiliate his Labour Party at the polls.
"With the prime minister�s popularity battered by Iraq, such a combination would have prompted fears of a Labour mutiny two months ago. But parliamentarians and analysts say Blair is on firmer ground now and the timing of events � coming just before parliament breaks for summer � will spare him any long-term damage, whatever the week�s outcome.
"'I don�t sense any conspiracy right now,' said one Labour parliamentarian (MP). 'They won�t be thinking of plotting. They�ll be thinking of their buckets and spades.' Wyn Grant, professor of politics at Warwick University agreed that Blair has survived the worst, 'It�s not plain sailing, but he�s coming into calmer waters.'"
Or, as The Corsair predicts, a deep sea storm.
Friday, July 09, 2004
Senator Mike Ditka?!
According to the Hill's Patrick O'Connor:
"In the wake of Steve Rauschenberger�s withdrawal from the Illinois Senate race, former Chicago Bears coach Mike Ditka has surfaced as a favorite of many Hill and state Republicans, according to interviews with GOP members and staff in Illinois and Washington."
The Corsair sighs with melancholy and gives up on the possibility of electing a black Senator in 2004.
"The Super Bowl-winning coach and Hall-of-Fame player is a Chicago icon whose name identification and stature would make him a well-known, if inexperienced, candidate in the race to replace Sen. Peter Fitzgerald (R), who is stepping down at the end of this legislative session.
The Corsair landed a super secret interview with Da Coach (wink, wink), that he wants to share with you, true believers:
The Corsair: So, let's say that the way this plays out is victory. What Senate Committees would you be interested in serving on?
Mike Ditka: Da Budget.
The Corsair: What places in Illinois are you looking forward to campaign in?
Ditka: Decatur
The Corsair: And what's your campaign slogan?
Ditka: Da Coach.
The Corsair: Beverage of choice?
Ditka: Da beer.
The Corsair: Favorite existentialist phrase?
Ditka: Dasein.
The Corsair: Favorite artistic movement?
Ditka: Dada.
The Corsair: Favorite grocery store?
Ditka: D'agostino's
The Corsair: Thank you
Ditka: Dan' mention it.
According to the Hill's Patrick O'Connor:
"In the wake of Steve Rauschenberger�s withdrawal from the Illinois Senate race, former Chicago Bears coach Mike Ditka has surfaced as a favorite of many Hill and state Republicans, according to interviews with GOP members and staff in Illinois and Washington."
The Corsair sighs with melancholy and gives up on the possibility of electing a black Senator in 2004.
"The Super Bowl-winning coach and Hall-of-Fame player is a Chicago icon whose name identification and stature would make him a well-known, if inexperienced, candidate in the race to replace Sen. Peter Fitzgerald (R), who is stepping down at the end of this legislative session.
The Corsair landed a super secret interview with Da Coach (wink, wink), that he wants to share with you, true believers:
The Corsair: So, let's say that the way this plays out is victory. What Senate Committees would you be interested in serving on?
Mike Ditka: Da Budget.
The Corsair: What places in Illinois are you looking forward to campaign in?
Ditka: Decatur
The Corsair: And what's your campaign slogan?
Ditka: Da Coach.
The Corsair: Beverage of choice?
Ditka: Da beer.
The Corsair: Favorite existentialist phrase?
Ditka: Dasein.
The Corsair: Favorite artistic movement?
Ditka: Dada.
The Corsair: Favorite grocery store?
Ditka: D'agostino's
The Corsair: Thank you
Ditka: Dan' mention it.
A Little of the Old In and Out
In: Last Night's Kerry gala at Radio City Music Hall was very "in"; both Gawker and Wonkette had deep-undercover operatives on hand (I'd tell you their names, but then I'd have to kill you) that give their penetrating sociological analysis of the event in question. From Wonkette:
"Just arrived at the Kerry-Edwards gala circle jerk at Radio City Music Hall. Crowd is a mix of high-toned Hamptons crowd discussing real estate and melanomas, and young 20-something staffers and professionals in business garb talking animatedly about Edwards and "energy." And college-aged cute things who surely didn't pay their way in. A lot of people seem to think that everyone should know them, but nobody does. (The threshold for "famous-for-New-York being somewhat higher than for DC equivalents.) Seen no genuine celebs yet."
Seems the genuine celebs and jet set swishy folk were all over at Jean Paul Gaultiers F/W Haute Couture show in Paris. Gawker on the lack of genuine celebs:
"If a terrorist had taken a giant flamethrower to Radio City Hall tonight, there would have been no B-List celebrities left in New York. It really made you realize that no one famous lives in this town anymore, and with presenters like Jessica Lange ... and Chevy Chase (who was straining to see the teleprompter; he looked very confused) this idea was further re-inforced.
" ... The Douche of the Night was Jason Binn. He's about as tall as a jar of Icy-Hot and looks like a fig with a facelift. He was affixed to Arianna Huffington all night, who was in turn affixed to Tina Brown and Fisher Stevens. TWICE in the lobby I saw Huffington make like she was ditching Binn, only to have the little spermatazoa literally yell out "Arianna," (the first time), and when she left with Fisher, "Fisher!!!" This second time Binn was talking to a group of over-tanned buttheads who were just waiting for their car to the Hamptons, but the group quickly proceeded to mock him as he ran after Arianna like the pathetic Heather he is.
Out: Chris Gore of IFC TV's Ultimate Film Fanatic. I just don't like his face. It's part chemical, part playa hating with me: he really makes me want to throw down. Anyhoo, Indiwire writes:
"Chris Gore of Film Threat fame is the show's host, and tells indieWIRE he's qualified to host a film trivia TV show because 'I can read at a 6th grade level and I can deliver lines from cue cards really well. Also, I have mastered the art of walking to a piece of tape on the floor and stopping precisely where the tape is placed.'
"Gore also doesn't mind hanging out with the show's esteemed panelists, including former porn star Traci Lords and Kevin Smith sidekick Jason Mewes. ('Jason Mewes began passing dirty notes and horribly obscene drawings during breaks in the show,' Gore tells indieWIRE. 'All I could think to myself, as any film geek might, is what they would fetch if they were sold on eBay.')
Can I punch him out now? (The Corsair gets "punchy," doing fancy footwork, while simultaneously throwing powerful overhand rights and complex combination shots with the hand not holding the 3/4s-full glass of The Cutty Sark) You know, really show him what the frequency is (The Corsair lunges at the screen).
In: Rock and roll coochie coo. (link via stereogum, it's his fault, so blame him)
Out: Ah, a day in the life of Haley Binn, wife of The Jason, according to Fashionweekdaily:
"Jason and I arrive at the Bulgari luncheon at the Hotel Jerome. I�?m wearing Trish of Capri sandals, Theory pants, an Izod shirt, and my Blinde sunglasses. Let�?s see who�?s here�?you�?ve got 20 fabulous ladies of Aspen, Bill and Kristen Bellamy, Tommy Davidson, and, of course, Nick Warnock (from 'The Apprentice'), who now works for Jason. Even Francois Kress, the managing director of Bulgari, flew in for this event! It was a lot of fun. We all went around the table and introduced ourselves and said why we love Aspen. Bill and Tommy both told funny stories of their first encounters with Jason."
Oh Lord, had Haley dropped one more name, I might have passed out from the altitude. You see, Dear Haley is the Sir Edmund Hillary of Social Climbing
Out: Daniel Libeskind, the architect who wanted too much, in a Gawker Stalker sighting:
"July 4, corner of Canal and Thompson, who should bounce around the corner that World Trade Center development project architect Daniel Libeskind, presumably returning from that morning's ground breaking. (Just caught a very quick glimpse, but how many spikey-haired, nerdy-glasses-ed German-looking guys wearing all black on a 90 degree day could there be?)"
Only an architect, kiddies, only an architect.
In: UberWaif Kate Bush. Big Boi's favorite artist is Kate Bush. Pink loves Kate Bush. Everyone who loves music loves Kate Bush but we are all afraid to say it out loud. Why? I'm going to say it for anyone that has ever been afraid to put it on the boom box and play it out loud and proud: When The Corsair wants to crawl into that special emotional space he puts on his Kate Bush, and cuddles with his Pound Puppy. So there.
Out: Rupert Murdoch, according to Paul Colford of the Post rival NY Daily News, who himself reports on an article in Post rival the The Old Gray Lady (It's confusing to all of us):
"Media mogul Rupert Murdoch himself was behind the New York Post's Dick Gephardt-for-veep fiasco, according to a published report.
"A day after Murdoch responded to the gaffe that made global headlines by saying 'Everybody made a mistake,' the New York Times reported last night that it was the big boss who came up with the elusive exclusive.
"An anonymous Post employee told the Times that Murdoch, chairman and chief executive of the Post's parent company News Corp., called in the tip at about 10 p.m. Monday night, between the first and second editions.
"City Desk editor Mike Hechtman took the feed, weaving it into a front page exclusive, sans byline, on Kerry's pick of the Missouri congressman as his vice presidential running mate, said the report posted on the Times Web site."
In: Dana Milbank's chat at WashingtonPost.com (link via Romenesko) yielded an interesting riff on why George Bush doesn't give a fuck about African-American preachers:
"Rockville, Md.: What is your analysis of the President's refusal to address the NAACP convention?
"Dana Milbank: Before he took office, Bush made clear that he was trying to circumvent the traditional civil rights establishment in favor of new black leaders, particularly religious ones, who shared his conservative views on social policy and favored school vouchers, etc. He's also visited milder groups such as the Urban League. This strategy of avoiding the traditional civil rights crowd has not gone very well for him, but neither is there much to be gained by drawing a hostile reception from the NAACP."
Out: Amish in the City, according to the AP:
"A reality TV series about Amish teenagers exploring the world beyond their community and faith will debut this month despite protests by members of Congress.
"'Amish in the City' begins with a special two-hour episode July 28, the UPN network announced Thursday."
The men's "beard without the moustache" and the women's "long sleeves, no skirt and severe bun hairdo" should play just suuuper on the Top Model network?
Comment here or on the VH1 Best Week Ever Blog.
In: Last Night's Kerry gala at Radio City Music Hall was very "in"; both Gawker and Wonkette had deep-undercover operatives on hand (I'd tell you their names, but then I'd have to kill you) that give their penetrating sociological analysis of the event in question. From Wonkette:
"Just arrived at the Kerry-Edwards gala circle jerk at Radio City Music Hall. Crowd is a mix of high-toned Hamptons crowd discussing real estate and melanomas, and young 20-something staffers and professionals in business garb talking animatedly about Edwards and "energy." And college-aged cute things who surely didn't pay their way in. A lot of people seem to think that everyone should know them, but nobody does. (The threshold for "famous-for-New-York being somewhat higher than for DC equivalents.) Seen no genuine celebs yet."
Seems the genuine celebs and jet set swishy folk were all over at Jean Paul Gaultiers F/W Haute Couture show in Paris. Gawker on the lack of genuine celebs:
"If a terrorist had taken a giant flamethrower to Radio City Hall tonight, there would have been no B-List celebrities left in New York. It really made you realize that no one famous lives in this town anymore, and with presenters like Jessica Lange ... and Chevy Chase (who was straining to see the teleprompter; he looked very confused) this idea was further re-inforced.
" ... The Douche of the Night was Jason Binn. He's about as tall as a jar of Icy-Hot and looks like a fig with a facelift. He was affixed to Arianna Huffington all night, who was in turn affixed to Tina Brown and Fisher Stevens. TWICE in the lobby I saw Huffington make like she was ditching Binn, only to have the little spermatazoa literally yell out "Arianna," (the first time), and when she left with Fisher, "Fisher!!!" This second time Binn was talking to a group of over-tanned buttheads who were just waiting for their car to the Hamptons, but the group quickly proceeded to mock him as he ran after Arianna like the pathetic Heather he is.
Out: Chris Gore of IFC TV's Ultimate Film Fanatic. I just don't like his face. It's part chemical, part playa hating with me: he really makes me want to throw down. Anyhoo, Indiwire writes:
"Chris Gore of Film Threat fame is the show's host, and tells indieWIRE he's qualified to host a film trivia TV show because 'I can read at a 6th grade level and I can deliver lines from cue cards really well. Also, I have mastered the art of walking to a piece of tape on the floor and stopping precisely where the tape is placed.'
"Gore also doesn't mind hanging out with the show's esteemed panelists, including former porn star Traci Lords and Kevin Smith sidekick Jason Mewes. ('Jason Mewes began passing dirty notes and horribly obscene drawings during breaks in the show,' Gore tells indieWIRE. 'All I could think to myself, as any film geek might, is what they would fetch if they were sold on eBay.')
Can I punch him out now? (The Corsair gets "punchy," doing fancy footwork, while simultaneously throwing powerful overhand rights and complex combination shots with the hand not holding the 3/4s-full glass of The Cutty Sark) You know, really show him what the frequency is (The Corsair lunges at the screen).
In: Rock and roll coochie coo. (link via stereogum, it's his fault, so blame him)
Out: Ah, a day in the life of Haley Binn, wife of The Jason, according to Fashionweekdaily:
"Jason and I arrive at the Bulgari luncheon at the Hotel Jerome. I�?m wearing Trish of Capri sandals, Theory pants, an Izod shirt, and my Blinde sunglasses. Let�?s see who�?s here�?you�?ve got 20 fabulous ladies of Aspen, Bill and Kristen Bellamy, Tommy Davidson, and, of course, Nick Warnock (from 'The Apprentice'), who now works for Jason. Even Francois Kress, the managing director of Bulgari, flew in for this event! It was a lot of fun. We all went around the table and introduced ourselves and said why we love Aspen. Bill and Tommy both told funny stories of their first encounters with Jason."
Oh Lord, had Haley dropped one more name, I might have passed out from the altitude. You see, Dear Haley is the Sir Edmund Hillary of Social Climbing
Out: Daniel Libeskind, the architect who wanted too much, in a Gawker Stalker sighting:
"July 4, corner of Canal and Thompson, who should bounce around the corner that World Trade Center development project architect Daniel Libeskind, presumably returning from that morning's ground breaking. (Just caught a very quick glimpse, but how many spikey-haired, nerdy-glasses-ed German-looking guys wearing all black on a 90 degree day could there be?)"
Only an architect, kiddies, only an architect.
In: UberWaif Kate Bush. Big Boi's favorite artist is Kate Bush. Pink loves Kate Bush. Everyone who loves music loves Kate Bush but we are all afraid to say it out loud. Why? I'm going to say it for anyone that has ever been afraid to put it on the boom box and play it out loud and proud: When The Corsair wants to crawl into that special emotional space he puts on his Kate Bush, and cuddles with his Pound Puppy. So there.
Out: Rupert Murdoch, according to Paul Colford of the Post rival NY Daily News, who himself reports on an article in Post rival the The Old Gray Lady (It's confusing to all of us):
"Media mogul Rupert Murdoch himself was behind the New York Post's Dick Gephardt-for-veep fiasco, according to a published report.
"A day after Murdoch responded to the gaffe that made global headlines by saying 'Everybody made a mistake,' the New York Times reported last night that it was the big boss who came up with the elusive exclusive.
"An anonymous Post employee told the Times that Murdoch, chairman and chief executive of the Post's parent company News Corp., called in the tip at about 10 p.m. Monday night, between the first and second editions.
"City Desk editor Mike Hechtman took the feed, weaving it into a front page exclusive, sans byline, on Kerry's pick of the Missouri congressman as his vice presidential running mate, said the report posted on the Times Web site."
In: Dana Milbank's chat at WashingtonPost.com (link via Romenesko) yielded an interesting riff on why George Bush doesn't give a fuck about African-American preachers:
"Rockville, Md.: What is your analysis of the President's refusal to address the NAACP convention?
"Dana Milbank: Before he took office, Bush made clear that he was trying to circumvent the traditional civil rights establishment in favor of new black leaders, particularly religious ones, who shared his conservative views on social policy and favored school vouchers, etc. He's also visited milder groups such as the Urban League. This strategy of avoiding the traditional civil rights crowd has not gone very well for him, but neither is there much to be gained by drawing a hostile reception from the NAACP."
Out: Amish in the City, according to the AP:
"A reality TV series about Amish teenagers exploring the world beyond their community and faith will debut this month despite protests by members of Congress.
"'Amish in the City' begins with a special two-hour episode July 28, the UPN network announced Thursday."
The men's "beard without the moustache" and the women's "long sleeves, no skirt and severe bun hairdo" should play just suuuper on the Top Model network?
Comment here or on the VH1 Best Week Ever Blog.
Chappelle: "I Don't Know What the Fuck (Nader) Thinks He's Doing"
From the August 2004 Blender:
"Blender: You talk about race, this country's great unspoken topic.
"Dave Chappelle: It's hilariously unspoken ... you know who goes through it and no one talk about? Poor white people. Poor white people feel like they're supposed to be rich. That's why they always sound crazy -- like 'Niggers are taking all the jobs at Burger King.' Alright, you sound like a fucking idiot right now ...
"Blender: Who are you going to vote for President this Fall?
"Dave: I'm going to ask you to take a wild guess.
"Blender: Then we'd guess John Kerry.
"Dave: I'm leaning that way. Ralph Nader, I don't know what the fuck he thinks he's doing. He has slavery reparations on his platform, which makes me think he's not serious. If he thought he could win, he wouldn't even say that.
"Blender: A lot of your jokes come from watching television, which you don't seem to like very much.
"Dave: This culture is dumb. The fact that Arnold Shwarzenegger is governor -- people voted for the nigger because he's the Terminator. 'Bring down the budget, Terminator.'"
From the August 2004 Blender:
"Blender: You talk about race, this country's great unspoken topic.
"Dave Chappelle: It's hilariously unspoken ... you know who goes through it and no one talk about? Poor white people. Poor white people feel like they're supposed to be rich. That's why they always sound crazy -- like 'Niggers are taking all the jobs at Burger King.' Alright, you sound like a fucking idiot right now ...
"Blender: Who are you going to vote for President this Fall?
"Dave: I'm going to ask you to take a wild guess.
"Blender: Then we'd guess John Kerry.
"Dave: I'm leaning that way. Ralph Nader, I don't know what the fuck he thinks he's doing. He has slavery reparations on his platform, which makes me think he's not serious. If he thought he could win, he wouldn't even say that.
"Blender: A lot of your jokes come from watching television, which you don't seem to like very much.
"Dave: This culture is dumb. The fact that Arnold Shwarzenegger is governor -- people voted for the nigger because he's the Terminator. 'Bring down the budget, Terminator.'"
Thursday, July 08, 2004
This Sunday on 60 Minutes: Exclusive Kerry/Edwards Interview
Those long, boring, dog days of summer 60 Minutes repeats -- you know, the ones where you get positively intimate with the Kerry-Bush Skull and Bones story all over again, for the fifth time -- may be over. In an age of hyper-competitive television, where 24 hour cable news channels regularly eat the lunch of network news divisions and first run midsummer replacement reality TV programs regularly snack on the bones of newsmagazine reruns, CBS is doing something rather groovy, baby, to be sure. For the second time this summer (Dan Rather's Bill Clinton exclusive interview was the first; remember when Dan dressed in geeky jeans pulled ... just a little bit too far up in 'old man uncool' fashion and roamed through the mean streets of Little Rock, Arkansas with Bill? Priceless), the 60 Minutes gang is cutting short their long and lusty summers in Martha's Vinyard to actually break some news (Just what the fuck is it about liberals and Martha's Vinyard, anyway? Please tell me, I'm clueless). This time, 60 Minutes has the first joint interview with that new political sensation, the John-Johns, Senator John Kerry and John Edwards. USA Today notes (link via Romenesko):
"Sunday, the show will be fresh again when Lesley Stahl interviews Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry and his running mate, John Edwards, fresh off a campaign stop Saturday in Edwards' home state, North Carolina.
"It will be another exclusive: the candidates' first joint interview.
"Executive producer Jeff Fager, who has taken the reins from legendary producer Don Hewitt, will interrupt his vacation on Martha's Vineyard to put the interview together. He has asked commentator Andy Rooney, who is on his traditional July vacation in upstate New York, to weigh in, too.
"Fager says viewers should expect more breaking news in summers to come -- even though, when it comes to ratings, there is little incentive: 60 repeats do nicely in the summer, routinely finishing in the Top 10.
"'When there's news, we're going to be covering it. The viewers expect that. This has become a broadcast where big news is broken. That's an exciting thing . . . so it's not going to matter in the future what time of year it is.'"
Breaking news during the summers ... cool -- and so begins the reign of Jeff Fager.
The CBS 60 Minutes website, which, by the way, is all over this groundbreaking exclusive, touting it's own network horn, says:
"Stahl will talk to both candidates and their wives, Teresa Heinz Kerry and Elizabeth Edwards, in Edward's home state of North Carolina, after the two wind up a campaign swing through Ohio, Florida, West Virginia, New Mexico and North Carolina."
We can't wait either to hear that breathy Mozambique-by-way-of-Switzerland accent of Theresa Heinz. What can I say, we Gemini's get off on odd speech patterns.
Those long, boring, dog days of summer 60 Minutes repeats -- you know, the ones where you get positively intimate with the Kerry-Bush Skull and Bones story all over again, for the fifth time -- may be over. In an age of hyper-competitive television, where 24 hour cable news channels regularly eat the lunch of network news divisions and first run midsummer replacement reality TV programs regularly snack on the bones of newsmagazine reruns, CBS is doing something rather groovy, baby, to be sure. For the second time this summer (Dan Rather's Bill Clinton exclusive interview was the first; remember when Dan dressed in geeky jeans pulled ... just a little bit too far up in 'old man uncool' fashion and roamed through the mean streets of Little Rock, Arkansas with Bill? Priceless), the 60 Minutes gang is cutting short their long and lusty summers in Martha's Vinyard to actually break some news (Just what the fuck is it about liberals and Martha's Vinyard, anyway? Please tell me, I'm clueless). This time, 60 Minutes has the first joint interview with that new political sensation, the John-Johns, Senator John Kerry and John Edwards. USA Today notes (link via Romenesko):
"Sunday, the show will be fresh again when Lesley Stahl interviews Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry and his running mate, John Edwards, fresh off a campaign stop Saturday in Edwards' home state, North Carolina.
"It will be another exclusive: the candidates' first joint interview.
"Executive producer Jeff Fager, who has taken the reins from legendary producer Don Hewitt, will interrupt his vacation on Martha's Vineyard to put the interview together. He has asked commentator Andy Rooney, who is on his traditional July vacation in upstate New York, to weigh in, too.
"Fager says viewers should expect more breaking news in summers to come -- even though, when it comes to ratings, there is little incentive: 60 repeats do nicely in the summer, routinely finishing in the Top 10.
"'When there's news, we're going to be covering it. The viewers expect that. This has become a broadcast where big news is broken. That's an exciting thing . . . so it's not going to matter in the future what time of year it is.'"
Breaking news during the summers ... cool -- and so begins the reign of Jeff Fager.
The CBS 60 Minutes website, which, by the way, is all over this groundbreaking exclusive, touting it's own network horn, says:
"Stahl will talk to both candidates and their wives, Teresa Heinz Kerry and Elizabeth Edwards, in Edward's home state of North Carolina, after the two wind up a campaign swing through Ohio, Florida, West Virginia, New Mexico and North Carolina."
We can't wait either to hear that breathy Mozambique-by-way-of-Switzerland accent of Theresa Heinz. What can I say, we Gemini's get off on odd speech patterns.
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