Rosie O'Donnell Versus Rob Burnett



Above: Rosie rocking the signature Wolverine (TM) hairdo.

(image via sky.prohostong.com)

According to the NYPost, serial aggroblogger Rosie O'Donnell and former Late Night with David Letterman Show producer, Rob Burnett got into a spot of the old "rough and tumble" over her blog:

"The beef with Letterman stretches back to when he was unexpectedly hospitalized in January 2000 for heart-bypass surgery."

You know what they say: Opportunity never blocks -- heart arteries -- twice.

"On her Web site, O'Donnell recalls 'a casual aside' she made to the head of CBS, Les Moonves, on the day the Letterman news broke.

"'If u r stuck for a host lemme know ? i am here. the end,' she wrote on the personal Web site, onceadored.blogspot.com, where she writes in the abbreviated, uncapitalized style of some weblogs."

What other weblogs do that? Prince's? The Post article continues:

"Two days later, she claims, Rob Burnett ? Letterman's then-executive producer who now runs Dave's production company, World Wide Pants ? called.

"'Hello rob, i said and off he went: how dare i try to steal dave's gig by calling les,' O'Donnell wrote.

"'You are not a friend of the letterman show ? rosie . . . we don't need your help rosie.' click."

Hmm. The plot thickens:

"O'Donnell went on to write that she had been asked to come on the show this week ? apparently to promote a 'Hallmark Hall of Fame' special (Ed Note: Averted Gaze) she is starring in next Sunday night.

"'I don't see how i can,' she wrote. 'I doubt i would be comfy as the you are not a friend of the letterman show, tape would run on a loop' through her mind, she says.

"'I don't know how to respond to something that never happened,' Burnett said yesterday. 'And the last thing I want to do is get into a fight with a powerful celebrity who has a blog read by tens of people.'"

To be continued.

And, as the frisson a la Burnett wasn't enough, she alienates in today's post Donald Trump's hair:

"what is the secret with his hair /
i think he had the back part of his scalp /
near his neck /
removed (like a 2 inch strip)
and then had it sewn
on the crown of his head
so it's kinda growing
only upside down"

Really, Rosie

Will Ferrell To Star in Land of the Lost



The Funny Mafia, as The Old Gray Lady's Sharon Waxman hinted after, has struck again. "Land of the Lost" is one of The Corsair's all time favorite 70s tv shows, and, according to the Hollywood Reporter:

"Will Ferrell is attached to star in the comedy feature 'Land of the Lost,' based on the classic television series of the same name. Universal acquired the feature rights from Sid and Marty Krofft, executive producers of the original television series, who will produce the feature for the studio."

The Corsair is not, like 100 percent sure on this "comedy" thing. The charm of the old series was the tragic aspect of a family coming together against a hostile alien landscape with the danger of death-by-claymation around every corner (Were we ever so young?). But The Corsair is so there:

"Jimmy Miller and Julie Wixson-Darmody also will produce via the Mosaic Media Group banner. Adam McKay is attached to direct, with Chris Henchy and Dennis McNicholas signing on to adapt the screenplay."



Above: Marshall, Will, Holly and "The Paucuny Tribe."

Chris Henchy is "Mr. Brooke Shields" to us mortals. This keeps getting more retro by the minute:

"Universal president of production Donna Langley will oversee the project for the studio. The original 'Land of the Lost' series revolved around forest ranger Rick Marshall and his children, Will and Holly, who are caught in a time vortex while exploring the Colorado River on a raft and transported to a mysterious world."

We remember it quite differently. The three were rafting the Colorado River, met "the greatest earthquake ever known," and "high on the rapids, it struck their tiny raft. And plunged them down a thousand feet below," to a land that time forgot:

"The feature film will be an update of the series, which ran from 1973-1977 on NBC and is due out on DVD this month."

Now, if they could get a remake of Bigfoot and Wild Boy. (Kidding) More here.

Jump the Shark commentary:

"Land of the Lost jumped the shark with the appearance of Malak, an alleged Cro-Magnon caveman, in the second 3rd season episode 'Survival Kit.' This prehistoric character spoke English! All previous characters were either acknowledged English-speaking Americans or communicated telepathically so the Marshall family could understand. Otherwise, they spoke another language (Pakuni) or just hissed (Sleestak). The English-speaking Cro-Magnon signaled that the producers were no longer concerned with the relative realism of the classic first two seasons."

Okay, The Corsair would like to distinguish himself from the immediately previous writer on JTS. We liked the show, we did, but, we weren't that into it ... And, finally, from JTS:

"That very last season with Uncle Jack. A ton of stuff went wrong when the Father left the show. Chaka (who is Mark McGrath of "Sugar Ray") suddenly started talking normal English after before just knowing a few words. And the worst of all, Will started SINGING! They turn a perfectly good children's show into a true Kroft turkey after that!"

We can neither confirm nor deny that "Extra" anchor and former rock star Mark McGrath looks like a prehistoric claymation reptile.

A Little of The Old In and Out



Above: She's so fine ... we think we'd drink her bathwater. Probably.

In: Padme Lakshmi Rushdie. Ah, my beautiful Padme (The Corsair sighs). She still hasn't gotten over Guy Trebay's hit piece in the Old Gray Lady, even though -- reportedly -- her husband, Salman Rushdie, threatened Trebay with physical violence immediately thereafter. From FashionwireDaily:

"We asked Lakshmi what she thought of the New York Times profile of her that had run during Fashion Week, and which seemed unnecessarily mean-spirited, casting aspersions on her marriage and calling her a 'semicelebrated hustler' (ouch!) based solely on the fact that she was in frequent - and much-photographed - attendance in the front row at Bryant Park.

"'I didn't get it, actually,' she said as she examined a bottle of infused olive oil. 'Maybe [the writer] was jealous because I had better seats. I thought he failed to mention the obvious truth, which was I was there to write about the clothes [for Harper's Bazaar], unlike him,' she said. 'It must have been a slow news day. I mean, what did I do? I've been in the fashion industry for ten years, so I went to a few shows. I think he was going to write that article regardless of what I said or what the truth actually was. It's fine. I was going to get roasted and I got roasted.'"

Jacob Bernstein of New York wrote of the contretemps:

"'In the Hindu pantheon,' (Trebay) observed, 'Lakshmi is the domestic deity representing wealth and the embodiment of beauty, grace, and charm ... In the current fashion pantheon, Ms. Lakshmi similarly stands for a love of money and commodity. A burgeoning brand married to a global brand, she has no problem making public an inventory of brands she chooses to wear.'

"Understandably, her husband was not amused. Witnesses say Rushdie walked up to Trebay at a National Arts Club event three days later and said, 'If you ever write mean things about my wife again, I'll come after you with a baseball bat.' Shaken, Trebay, who was on his way out, left.
"Of course, many found it ironic that Rushdie was threatening a writer with bodily harm for something he?d published. He didn?t return messages, and Trebay refused to comment. But a fellow attendee would: 'She?s an ambitious person with a lot of hustle. I would think by celebrity standards she?s fair game. Have you seen her Website?'"

Many, many times. *The Corsair swoons*

Out: Pamela Anderson. What -- with all the Pink Champagne (Averted Gaze), "the Hep C," the silicon (saline?) "dirty pillows," the late night partying with David La Chappelle and his merry band of freaks, the fucking "pro surfers," (Averted Gaze) and -- lest we forget -- the various polymers that preserve Our Pammie as the prototypical "fembot" that she is today, was it any wonder (The Corsair sips wanly at a chilled glass of Vision Cellars Pinot Noir) that it took this long to get an, ehr, "incriminating picture" of Miss Pamela Anderson (image via Getty), showing the ravages of the incommensurability of plastic and the delicate human nervous system?



Above: In retrospect, not a good day for Japanese "face" in the Asian Pacific.

In: China. How badly did China lay some whup ass on Japan this week? (The Corsair visibly winces) Then again, when the Prime Minister is robustly playing "bitch" to Richard Gere (True comment -- Gere to Koizumi: "I'll lead") at a press conference, the fastest rising power on the planet -- a 5,000 year old continuous culture -- doesn't have to fuck around. China metes out punishing discipline in the region at will. At present, China simply flexes, and all of Asia cringes.

Unfortunately, the Neocons seem positively terrified of dealing firmly with China. We need men and women of intellect, patience and strong will to deal with China's increasingly roguish tactics with its neighbors. They will respect us for doing so, as opposed to regarding us as a capricious young nation.



Above: Junichiro Koizumi's hair appears gloriously unaffected by the Japanese reversal of fortune.

Damn. Re: Japan; whatever happened to the Samurai Generals -- has all that noble history been entirely subsumed into the Yakuza? (The Corsair emits a long, low pitch whistle) Junichiro Koizumi was, like, "tossing Beijing's salad;" it was crazy. Via The Old Gray Lady:

"After weeks of rising tension between East Asia's two big powers, the leaders of China and Japan held a tense 55-minute meeting on Saturday on the sidelines of an international conference here, but they did not appear close to resolving the many problems underlying relations between the countries.

"Prime Minister Junichiro Koizumi of Japan described his talks with China's top leader, Hu Jintao, as 'very good,' and he was expected to hold a news conference later Saturday.

"But in remarks to reporters, Mr. Hu was less optimistic and detailed some of the points he had made, ranging from regional security to Japan's attitude toward its history."

In other words: Koizumi wasn't submissive enough. Grovel harder. We want more. And they'll get more. This emerging phenomenon of Chinese Nationalism perfectly distracts the population from the growing pains of the vast economic expansion, directing the popular consciousness away from cultural conservatism for the disintegrating old way, and -- as a bi-product -- gives the people pride in their rising superpower status. And everyone's ducky except Japan and Taiwan, our ally when it's convenient.

Further, from the Old Gray Lady:

"Speaking at an Asia-Africa summit meeting here, with President Hu Jintao of China and other world leaders looking on, Mr. Koizumi said, 'Japan, through its colonial rule and aggression, caused tremendous damage and suffering to the people of many countries, particularly to those of Asian nations.'"

The nation of the proud and mighty samurai?

"Without identifying any other country, he added: 'Japan squarely faces these facts of history in a spirit of humility. And with feelings of deep remorse and heartfelt apology always engraved in mind, Japan has resolutely maintained, consistently since the end of World War II, never turning into a military power but an economic power.'"

Oh no, he didn't just say, "deep remorse and heartfelt apology," did he? (Buries face in hands) He did.

Out: Brooklyn. Oh no, The Old Gray Lady recognizes Brooklyn, which means, alas, Brooklyn is no longer cool. In the "Styles" section no less. It's over. Damn. It was a sweet ride while it lasted, but that's the way things work. If the New York Times recognizes some "emerging trend," it's cachet of hip is over. So sad. The Corsair wished that weren't the case, as he lives in Brooklyn, but alas, it is thusly:

"Maybe Brooklyn can finally stop feeling the need to promote itself as some kind of hip equal to Manhattan. Here is a loaded celebrity author who could afford to buy anywhere - he doesn't even have children who would need extra bedrooms and a yard - and he has chosen Brooklyn over Manhattan for his lifestyle upgrade. Bravo, Brooklyn. Paying $6.75 million to live a half-hour subway ride from Greenwich Village. That tells the world that you're not an outskirt. You're a mecca."

Fuuuck. Hushhush no, don't you know that -- voices carry, New York Times reporter. The sweet ride can continue. Don't do this to Brooklyn. Why do you have to harsh on the mello? Huh?



In: The Story of O. As a general rule, The Corsair studiously eschews bratty teenagers who sing prepackaged bubblegum music ("Papa don't preach?!"). But Papermag (Hey, guys!) has an interesting interview with a self-aware Kelly Osborne, who, mirabile dictu, appears to be apologizing for being, well, after all, a self-involved teenager:

"'I was being judged by the whole world and I was miserable,' she says. 'I developed this whole I don't give a fuck attitude. But deep down, I was dying inside.'

"Well, maybe not dying, but much of the world really was watching. The Osbournes raked in eight million viewers an episode at its peak, as well as a lot of cash ($20 million for the second season), which was split equally four ways. Kelly used part of her salary to buy drugs. Like, a lot of drugs. 'There isn't one episode where I wasn't on something,' Kelly says, adding that when she returned home from rehab, she was afraid to go into her bedroom. 'When I was stoned, I'd get scared that I would run out one day, so I hid them. They found something like 500 pills in my room when they cleaned it.'"

Like father, like daughter. We forgive you, Kelly.

Out: Dick Cheney. Doesn't he even see the trap he's walking into? Cheney is like the hapless pedestrian about to turn unawares face first into an expertly placed custard pie. Sure, Cheney will not run in 2008, so he can bust a few heads, kick a little ass, without political risk.

But in trying to reduce the powers of the Minority in the Senate -- the so called "nuclear option" ... one month before the fucking release of Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith shows an utter lack of pop-cultural tone-deafness, even for Cheney. That movie deals specifically with the dissolution of the powers of a fictional republic and will be on everyone's minds all summer. Today Maureen Dowd -- who, incidentally does a fine job reviewing (on a takes-one-to-know-one, basis?) Jane Fonda's autobio -- even takes to calling Cheney, "Vader."

Of course that never stopped George Bush from using the release of an earlier Star Wars film as a springboard to talk to the nation about his objections to cloning. (Averted Gaze)

Seriously, if The Corsair were at the DNC, we would be unleashing "Star Wars"-themed commercials, imperially themed, aimed at 2006 with Cheney and Delay and "the Sith." Expect it.

Is the Tribeca FF Too Massive?

Above: Michael Mueller and perennial C-Lister Sally "I'd Attend the opening of an Envelope" Kirkland at the "Neo Ned" After-Party at Tribeca Film Festival.

Is it "too big"? "Beaucoup"? The Corsair gets that alot from the women he's with ...

But we digress: The massive -- perhaps overmassive, waay overmassive -- Tribeca Film Festival is on like Gray Poupon, taking over Downtown for awhile, making it almost impossible for any single blogger to get a handle on the whole scene. We need Page Six and Rush and Molloy to break it all down into digestible little morsels of yummy gossip for us.

What is obvious, though, is that what Tribeca began as is not what it is now. Like Sundance, this is no longer an "Indie Festival." How did it get that way? How did this become thus?

A pseudonymous poster named "Brian Flax" made this intriguing comment -- which The Corsair cannot confirm -- on Indiewire's Tribeca blog:

"I had the chance to sit with Nicole Bartelme the original architect of the TriBeCa Film Festival, at the TriBeCa Grand Hotel in December of 2000. (Downtown Express had first scoop).

"She presented a stronger blue print than what Rosenthal eventually bought her out for. (After 9/11, she relinquished all rights to the festival in December of 2001 under 'good faith' that she would be connected to the festival�s programming). Bartelme's premise was more connected to the heart of the independent film community but also linked to music (remember MTV's involvement the first year? That was the results of meeting with now co-chair Tom Freston)."
"... Beyond incorporating films with great sound tracks, theater and painting were at the soul of the festival- 'a true festival of the arts.' Anyone wanting to do a documentary on the makings of this festival? There's a whole back-story that's never been told ... Rosenthal is afraid to touch! It will never be Cannes or 'Burning Man' like Bartelme had intended ... it's not helping the business of TriBeCa -- all complained last year that it hurt sales and that paying to be a part of it for advertising, plus giving a discount created more head aches- in the long run wasn't worth it.

"Lance Lappan, for example, this year was told he was not allowed to set up a booth because he was not family oriented (26 years in TriBeCa of cutting kids hair, creative as hell and he's not allowed to participate?) Bartelme knew there would be hundreds of people descending on the hood -so you almost have to do something called a family COMMUNITY street fair. But her's had a thread that was UNITY and not just another series of vendors. Hers embodied the real stuff Hollywood stands for not the celluloid festival that has hit this triangle below Canal. Let Rosenthal open the fest with a Hollywood film and stay in mid-town where she belongs! Good luck to a independents!"

Interesting, at least The Corsair thought. More, in the blogopshere:

David Chappelle's Rize (about "Krumping") and Indiewire

Neo Ned

Matt Dentler of Indiewire of the party scene last night:

" ... The DJ turned out to be a lot of fun, mixing old-school hip-hop with newer hip-pop and pretty soon, the trendy eatery became a dance club for the partygoers. Before long, word started trickling in about the next parties. Boy George was reportedly spinning at the W Hotel's All We Are Saying soiree and the White Stripes were rumored to be at the Excavating Taylor Mead shindig."

(Ed Note: The Corsair is pretty sure Taylor Meade planted that story himself)

"'The Rabbi,' Christian Zak, and I soon found ourselves in Chinatown for the Taylor Mead party... no White Stripes to be found, but we did get a chance to chat briefly with Jim Jarmusch and Michael Almereyda, two of indie film's most stunning and most friendly forces."

Patrick McDonald: "Chapeau Man"



(image via NYSocialDiary)

The Corsair's latest obsession in Patrick McDonald. Positively pimpy, this guy. Okay, we'll be the first to admit we were late to get on board this eccentric ship. He's been around. But we're sticking for the duration. According to Fashionweekdaily:

"... Party host Patrick McDonald, who appeared in a creamy Paul Smith suit, may be more interested in being a cartoon than watching one. 'If I were a superhero, I�d be Dandy Man!' he told The Daily, 'and I�d nod my hat�my chapeau�and make everybody well-dressed. I wouldn�t fly; I would just nod my hat�just like Bewitched with the nose. I would just tip my hat and make everybody well-dressed and well-mannered. Yes, Dandy Man!'�

Swell and lovely. The Corsair would be more likely to go in for invisibility and flight powers himself, but to each his own. More backstory via our favorite social chronicler, NYSocialDiary:

"He�s fairly new to my eyes � I think I first saw him a few years ago at an art gallery opening. Although he�s been a well-established New York scene-ster for a couple of decades. The first time I saw him I thought it was a costume. Which it is. His costume. Complete, right down to the ever-present chapeau, the dyed red hair (what you can see of it, underneath), the impeccably applied make-up, the color mix which although it varies, is always consistent with the sartorial impression he�s out to create. And create he does.

"He was born in Germany, of American parents, with a twin (which is hard to imagine on the face of it). I could be wrong but I have a feeling you might not recognize his twin (who lives in Los Angeles) if they were together in the same room."

His bio here.

Pamela Anderson, Booze and Hep C

(image via Smh.com.au)

Hep C notwithstanding, Our Girl Pam can still knock them back like a Canadian lumberjack on lunchbreak, according to the 3AM Girls:

"The busty babe was a picture of elegance when she arrived at the posh London store Selfridges to launch Vegas Supernova, a month-long event celebrating 100 years of Sin City on Wednesday night.

"But fast forward a couple of hours and Pammie, 37, was committing a few sins of her own after knocking back the booze.

"Our spy at the swanky bash - organised by the store's billionaire owner Galen Weston - tells us: "'When Pammie arrived on the red carpet she looked incredible.

"'She was the guest of honour and she exuded polished A-list glamour.'

"'It all started to go downhill in the restaurant.'

Apparently, Pam was hitting the Pink Champagne, which, aside from the crime of a louche beverage choice, (Averted Gaze) -- the lubricant of choice for retail office parties everywhere -- it is also very bad for sufferers of Hep C, which Pammie is. You'll remember that she got it -- or at least she said she did -- from sharing a tattoo needle (eew) with her superskanky ex-husband, Tommy Lee. Just mentioning his name is a justifiable reason to get DNA tested for an STD. The 3AM Girls continue:

"Our spy said: 'By around 1am she was well-oiled and cosying up with snapper David LaChappelle. "A Las Vegas band called the Pussycat Dolls performed and she told them she thought they were very sexy girls."

"'... She didn't want to call it a night until 4am,' we're told. But by the time she left, it seemed it was a major battle just to keep her outfit up and in place."

Says Hepatitis Central, "Alcohol consumption and a concomitant hepatitis C virus infection apparently facilitate the development of hepatitis."

A Little of the Old In and Out


Above: Play "Count the bones on Melissa Berkelhammer's clavicle." (We count "6" so far) All the swishy people are doing it.

New posts form The Corsair daily: here

In: The Padma Lakhsmi/Miehle Party. The incredibly sexy Padma Lakhsmi was everywhere this week. God, she's hotter than a curried lamb pullao. (The Corsair pours himself a "naive" glass of Chablis) Salman Rushdie is a lucky man. At her party, Fashionweekdaily writes:

"The Padma Lakshmi and Carlos Miele-hosted event was being billed as a top-secret after-gala party at the Hunt Slonem Studio. Rumor had it that the guards were Naomi Campbell?s usual protectors; too bad she was being f�ted uptown at hotspot 58. But regardless, the 'intimate' crowd of several dozen, who arrived in suits and evening gowns from the Tribeca Film Festival, First Annual Pen World Voices International Festival, and even the H&M fashion show/concert, received midnight tours of the 50,000 square foot studio on the Lower West Side ?unheard of were it not for some cajoling from Hunt?s brother, columnist Jeffrey Slonem.

"?... 'I think there are 89 rooms here, but my brain isn?t large enough to picture that,' laughed Melissa Berkelhammer, who wore a fire-engine red Miele gown. 'When I was filling out the loan card to borrow this dress, under purpose, they put, ?SSHHHHHHH!!! Part ".??

Charmed, I'm sure. (Averted Gaze)

Out: That Cat Lady. That Joyce Wildenstein is an "odd egg" goes without saying. (The Corsair marvels at the presumptiveness of his Chablis) She marches to the beat of a different drummer. She watches channel zero. Like Tara Subkoff. (Averted Gaze) How else does one characterize an individual who surgically alters their face -- albeit to make her ex husband happy, who promptly dumped her -- to look like a cat. A motherfucking fucking feline, people. Meow, hello?

Why aren't there branches of abnormal psychiatry devoted to her. Anyway, according to the Page Sixxies, she's having a little "work done" on her pool:

"The surgically altered siren and (Lloyd) Klein are staying at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel and house-shopping in Beverly Hills and Bel Air. Wildenstein is having the deeper pool put in her East 82nd Street digs so she can dive, we're told."

A nip here a tuck there. We thought cats hated water, though.



Above: You do your thing, Elizabeth Stribling .. you .. do your thing.

In: Elizabeth Stribling. Says our favorite social chronicler, David Patrick Columbia in NYSocialDiary:

"Stribling & Associates, Ltd. one of New York?s premiere residential brokerage firms started in business in 1980 with eight residential brokers. Two weeks ago they celebrated its 25th anniversary with a gala evening of disco dancing harkening back to the glory days of John Travolta?s movie Saturday Night Fever at The Manhattan Penthouse. The firm, serving the highest echelons of the Manhattan residential real estate, now has over 185 brokers.

?'Over the past 25 years Stribling & Associates has become known for its dedication to serving buyers and sellers of Manhattan?s finest residential properties with unparalleled service and expertise,' said Elizabeth Stribling, founder and president. Mrs. Stribling is widely respected as an active participant in many New York charitable and civic associations. She is a board member of the Central Park Conservancy and Landmark Conservancy as well as the Real Estate Board of New York. She was also a recipient of the Real Estate Board of New York Henry Forster Memorial Award for dedication to the community and industry accomplishments."

Congrats Elizabeth Stribling, you go get your dance game on, player.



Out: Cameron Diaz. The Corsair has never really been a fan of Cameron Diaz. Even during the heyday of "There's Something About Mary," when it was all-about-Cameron we never fell for it. We never wanted to go there or "hit that." *The Corsair shudders*

For one thing, there is something decidedly "shrill" about her. Lurking under the surface we feel is something quite cruel and dark and nasty, we think. Call it Corsair-intuition, but that's the distinct vibe we get. Now, according to Rush and Molloy:

"No lady guards her boyfriend more fiercely than Cameron Diaz, or so says porn star Gina Lynn.

"The star of 'Deviant Behavior' and many titles unprintable here says she was hanging with Justin Timberlake at a recent 'Saturday Night Live' after-party, when 'all of a sudden Cameron Diaz came up to me and put both hands in my face and waved goodbye and yelled at me, 'Bye-bye, get the [bleep] away from him!'"

Granted, a porn star is the last person you want cavorting with your significant other, but there's no need to publicly humiliate someone already quite out of place at a show business function, especially when Diaz already out-ranks Lynn by a factor of, like, 1,000. Gina Lynn was no threat. She just thought she was.

One can almost feel the cruel show business laughter at the poor porn star's expense in the restaurant. Lorne Michaels snickering, Maya Rudolph chuckling, that sort of thing. It must have been nasty. That's kind of a witchy and unnecessary thing to do. There's ... something about Cameron.

An Open Letter To Dakota Fanning



(image via Enzogiobbe)

Dear Dakota Fanning:

Yeah, you; I'm talking to you, little "Miss Movie Star." You think you're so cute with your baby milkteeth and your freshly cut bangs, don't you? Yeah, we know, you've starred opposite Denzel Washington and Mike Myers. Well, I'm calling you out. Dear Dakota Fanning: I know you for what you are, which is -- 58 pounds of trouble with a capital "T." We know all about those Krispy Kreme doughnuts that you had imported on your movie set from Melbourne. Aren't you the little Bismarck. Did you put that in your "contract rider"? How convenient.

I pity the director who had to coax out a decent performance from you after that sugar rush. But it's all about the power for you, right?

P.S. You think you're so special. Who made you Queen of the World, Dakota Fanning. You're not the boss of me!

PPS: And why are you always crying and stuff in your movies? Like, all little girls can do in situations is cry. You're so sexist, Dakota Fanning.

PPS: It's not too late for you to change your ways, little girl. I'm pulling for you.

Yrs, The Corsair

Jacko, Sweaty, Pajama Bottoms and Vaseline



You know things are wicked bad when TheSmokinggun writes, "In a legal motion released late yesterday, prosecutors disclosed that they are seeking to present jurors with testimony from a former employee that involves a jar of Vaseline, an 'aroused' King of Pop, and a teenage boy in the singer's bedroom (you'll have to read the document, TSG is not going any further)."

We read it. Whew! Those court reporters can throw down some serious verse, like:"Upon entering, (the security guard) observed the floor to be wet and two wet bathing trunks on the ground. The trunks were side by side."

Pedophilia notwithstanding, that's one sweet-ass parallel construction, yo. We've got another goddamn Flaubert! And: "Jackson called (The Security guard) and asked him to go to get a jar of Vaseline from the center console of the vehicle and bring it to his bedroom."

Whew. Nothing more needs to be said:

Michael Joe Jackson Versus the State of California.

A Little of the Old In and Out


Above: Former Navy Man John McCain, after a hearty can of Spinach. (image via GreySquirerel)

In: The Kiss. We like Senator John McCain. Always have. Who doesn't? He's such a gentle soul. A true patriot. He loves his country, and serves at the pleasure of the President. And, according to The Hill, former Admiral, Senator John McCain still knows his long term battlefield strategy and the effects of the well-lubricated "manly kiss" on Republican primary voters:

"For those 'McCainiacs' still nursing wounds from the 2000 South Carolina Republican primary, the scene was among the most searing images of the 2004 campaign.

"President Bush, at the height of a tough reelection fight, hugged Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.), his former primary opponent, at a campaign event in Pensacola, Fla., and then gave him a kiss on the side of the head."

(A considerable pause)

"The gesture of GOP solidarity was a carefully orchestrated coup for Bush, who had his hands full fending off a Vietnam veteran from the left, Sen. John Kerry (D-Mass.). It signaled to Republicans ? even those harboring doubts about some of Bush?s policies on the war and the economy ? that they should rally around the president to advance the overall Republican agenda."

Oh, right. Rally round the President. A gesture of solidarity. (sotto voce) Was it good?

Above: Revelations ch. XIII V. 18 : "Woe to you, Oh Earth and Sea, for the Devil sends the beast with wrath, because he knows that time is short...
"Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast for it is a human number, its number is Six hundred and sixty six."

Out: Vincent Gallo. The Prince of Darkness, Vincent Gallo's fungal legend grows. According to Rush and Molloy,

"Vincent Gallo has an eye for fellow exhibitionists. The filmmaker, who famously revealed his manhood in 'Brown Bunny,' fixed his beams on a redhead whose breast accidentaly escaped her dress during revelry at Suede last Saturday. Two nights later, Gallo spotted the beauty again at Bungalow 8. They left together ..."

(The Corsair shakes his head and makes another notch on a well-worn wall) Another innocent soul is lost. One must never fix a vampire with a steady gaze. The Damned have the power to mesmerize the weak and break the proud. Poor thing. Sentenced to roam the night in eternal fealty to The Desolate One.

In: Jeans. First, the Old Gray Lady's Thursgay Styles section touts $600 jeans, making us feel woefully inadequate. Now, Fashionweekdaily chats with "Jean Magnates," Augusto Romano, and Meltin? Pot COO Vince Gonzales:

"Fashionweekdaily: Whats the difference between Meltin? Pot and Diesel, Miss Sixty and the rest of the designer denim out there?

"Meltin' Pot: From a product point of view it?s the same. The difference is the brand; we?re more linked to regular life.

A jean is a jean is a jean, people!

Out: Paula Abdul, Hypochondriac. Not to harsh on someone who has legitimate medical problems, but we are not buying the Paula Abdul routine. She sounds like the classic hypochondriac in need of some meditation here in the USA Today:

"American Idol judge Paula Abdul, responding to questions about her erratic behavior on the hit Fox talent show, says she is suffering from a rare neurological disorder and does not have a drug problem.

"'Drugs? I'm not addicted to pills of any kind,' Abdul says in the new issue of People magazine (on newsstands Friday).

"Abdul, 42, says she has been battling chronic pain that began after a cheerleading accident at age 17 left here with an injured disc in her neck.

"The pain got worse after 'a couple of car accidents' in the 1980s and a plane crash in 1992, which led to seizures, bulimia and depression, she says. In search of relief, Abdul had 12 operations and used medications she says left her so 'loopy' that she chose to live with the pain.

(The Corsair plays a violin cadenza)

"The turning point came last summer, she says, when she began taking Enbrel, an anti-inflammatory drug normally used to treat rheumatoid arthritis and psoriasis."

What about dysentery? Was there mention of "The Whooping Cough"? Those appear to be the only known maladies Paula Abdul does not suffer from (Averted Gaze).



Above: Patroness of the arts Georgette "Medusa" Mosbacher at the PEN Dinner.

In: The Pen Dinner. Our favorite social chronicler David Patrick Columbia was out at the PEN Dinner last night and has the scoop in NYSocialDiary:

"Me, I was over at the American Museum of Natural History where the PEN American Center was holding their 2005 PEN Montblanc Literary Gala. I cover this gala every year and it is a not only a great cause but also a great evening ? a roomful of writers, many distinguished and even brilliant; always a thrill for me to be present at.

" ... Gala vice-chairs were Padma Lakshmi-Rushdie and Christine Schwarzman.The PEN American Center works to advance literature, to defend free expression, and to foster international literary fellowship. It was founded in 1922 and has a membership of 2800 writers, editors, and translators.

"Tina Brown and Michael Roberts, Executive Director of the PEN American Center, opened the evening. Tina informed us that this year?s gala was the highest grossing ever ? bringing in more than $1 million for the cause. She then introduced Brian Williams who was the master of ceremonies. Still wearing his business suited at this black tie affair, he explained to the audience that on he?d been in Oklahoma City for the tenth anniversary of the Oklahoma bombing, had flown from there to Dallas where he caught a plane for New York, arriving at 4:30. On his way into town, he wrote most of his NBC Nightly News broadcast, got to the studio, went on camera, finished, recorded some segments for the West Coast broadcast and then came up to the museum for the PEN dinner. In case you think you had a busy day."

Mariah: BondGirl?



Okay -- Granted: It would have been perversely interesting to observe Mariah's psychological health disintegrate on camera had her album tanked. But it didn't. And, we suppose we are glad for that, however intriguing it would have been to see "The Incarceration of Mimi." (The Corsair sighs and looks forlorn) Mariah's hott now. The 3AM Girls elaborate:

"The diva - whose Emancipation Of Mimi album reached No.1 in the US and Japan - is being tipped to star in a forthcoming Bond film.

"A source close to the singer reveals: 'Since her comeback started the offers have come flooding in. She's in talks about playing a Bond girl and is also about to design her own range of diamond jewellery.'"

We'll pass over the bling in considerable silence and swoop down on the Bond Girl morsel. All good Bond Girls have to have a catchy pornish sobriquet, like "Pussy Galore," "Miss Goodthighs," or, our personal favorite, "Kissy Suzuki." How about Mariah? What should Mariah Carey's Bondgirl name be? In light of the whole padded-walls TRL performance, would "Voices Carey" work? Screaming Mimi? Mimi LaCrazy? Honey JeterStalker? Madame Butterthigh? We give ..

Network Anchor Blogs?



Reuters reports today that the network suits are mulling the idea of pimping out their anchor talent ("journalistic sweet ass") in the blogosphere. Whatever happened to iconic stature? Has blogging jumped the shark? Even Fox overlord Roger Ailes is praising the genre. (The Corsair sniffs haughtily) According to Reuters:

"NBC could create Internet blogs for its top news anchors and celebrity interviewers as it seeks to maintain the appeal of U.S. network news, its top executive said on Tuesday.

"NBC Universal Television Group President Jeff Zucker said entering the generally opinionated world of blogs might be one way television networks could keep their grip on viewers who increasingly use the Internet for news.

"'Over the next two years, network news is going to go through a lot more changes,' Zucker said at a Yahoo conference on high-speed Internet use. 'This is one of the biggest issues facing traditional network news divisions.'"

Or could it be the staleness of Today, which, as Drudiepoo today reports, is losing ground to Good Morning America (The Corsair covers his ears in anticipation of all caps): "FLASH: MORNING NEWS RACE (WEEK OF 4/11/05) NBC TODAY 5,690,000, ABC GMA 5,420,000."

"'I don't know why Brian Williams isn't blogging right now,' Zucker said of the anchor of NBC's top-rated evening news program who took the helm after veteran journalist Tom Brokaw stepped down in December. 'We should be looking for a more interactive component ... and be experimenting more.' "

The milkfed Brian Williams has already made his opinions on bloggers clear, on which we wrote at the time:

"Bland, boring, antiseptic white bread anchor-elect Brian Williams, that helmet haired Washingtonian sissy, had some choice words -- dare I prithee to say (air quotes) "zingers" -- for bloggers, words that stung like a bitchslap delivered with ... particular brio (The Corsair rubs his cheek, ruefully) and more than a touch of dash. According to CBS MarketWatch:'Williams, 45, is capable of showing good humor and a dry wit in public. When Time magazine held a lunch to discuss the candidates for its Person of the Year issue, he exposed a side of his personality that is seldom seen on the air.

"'When a fellow panelist mentioned that bloggers had a big impact on the reporting on Election Day, Williams waved that point away by quipping that the self-styled journalists are 'on an equal footing with someone in a bathroom with a modem.'"

A touch. I do confess it. I fear I breathe my last. Reuters continues:

"Zucker said he was considering a blog for Williams and could envision a similar blog for Katie Couric, the co-host of NBC's 'Today' show. He noted that the morning program hadn't changed its format much in more than a decade. NBC is owned by General Electric Co."

A perky Katie Courc blog. (Averted Gaze) God help us. (PS: The Corsair would not be averse to a bitter Matt Lauer wedding's-in-shambles blog -- 3rd item)

A Little of the Old In and Out



In: Dustin Hoffman. Don't "hassle the hoff." (image via Girl.com.au)According to Rush and Molloy:

"Robert De Niro, Kevin Bacon, Jennifer Beals, David O. Russell and others turned out Monday night to honor Dustin Hoffman - to pay homage, not only to his oeuvre, but his schnoz.

"De Niro, who co-starred with Hoffman in 'Sleepers' and 'Wag the Dog,' noted that he teamed with him again on 'Meet the Fockers,' in which 'he was one hell of a Focker.'"

Dustin Hoffman is a little like Bill Murray to me. The Corsair remembers seeing him pick up his daughter, Nora, at the UN School back in the mid 70s. "Kramer Versus Kramer" had just come out, and the older kids were in absolute utter fucking awe. "That's Dustin Hoffman!" They would mutter, losing their too-cool-for-school facade entirely. That ordinary looking guy, The Corsair thought? Who cares?

As The Corsair was only in Junior 2 at the time, and The Little Rascals were the only superstars worth swooning over, you will pardon our naivete. But years later, after seeing Hoff in "Kramer Verus Kramer," we became the absolute fan. Granted, he has been doing a lot of ... dubious films of late. That Fockers shit and all. But his work in "Finding Neverland" and -- gasp -- "I Heart Huckabees" proves that he still has the chops.

And perhaps there will never be a more perfect portrayal of the breakup of the first marriages of the Baby Boomers than "Kramer Versus Kramer." Dustin Hoffman, thespian, thou rockest hard.



Above: Leona Helmsley rocking the retro-Lenoid Brezhnev look. You do your thing, Leona ... you (Averted Gaze) .. do your thing.

Out: "Trouble." We don't know who is more pathetic in this story, Leona Helmsley, her free range 6 year old Maltese bitch "Trouble," or the guy who needed to involve the long arm of city government all up in his "pooch issues." This one's a doozy, you might want to sit your ass down for it. According to the Page Sixxies:

"LEONA Helmsley's pint-sized pooch, Trouble, is living up to her name. The 6-year-old Maltese, who's allowed to run around unleashed at the Room With a View restaurant at Helmsley's Park Lane Hotel, is accused of terrorizing a doggie-phobic diner.

"Aladdin Atassi tells PAGE SIX that he got up to leave the eatery last Sunday because Trouble kept sniffing his legs under his table, despite his complaints to the restaurant's staff.

"'Then it got between me and the door and started snapping and barking at me and trying to bite me,' Atassi said. Atassi, a Texan who is staying at the Park Lane with his grandmother for their annual theater trip, said he lodged a complaint with a manager."

The Corsair was about to launch into a protracted inquiry into tangled web of how a grown man could possibly feel threatened by a 6 year old Maltese, then, as if in answer to the line of questioning, the "annual theater trip with grandmother" factoid came up, thus cleared away the cobwebs and the sorrow .. til there's none.

"'He told me the dog's owner owned the hotel and there was nothing he could do, so I called the city Health Department,' Atassi said. This isn't the first time that tiny Trouble ? who wears pink ribbons in her hair ? has been accused of bad behavior."

(Averted Gaze) The bitch had pink ribbons in her hair ... come on, now ...

"Park Lane staffer Zamfira Sfara alleged in court papers in January that Trouble 'viciously' bit her and other employees."

When pronouncing the word "viciously," extra emphasis must be placed on the first consonant. Finally, a hard snapping sound must be made afterwards.

"'Trouble is a loving, friendly dog,' Helmsley spokesman Howard Rubenstein insisted. 'I'm sorry that Mr. Atassi misunderstood the dog's effort to cozy up to him. He and his grandmother are invited to have lunch or dinner at the hotel as Leona's personal guests.'"



Above: Masterpiece Diva. (image via Enzogiobbe)

In: The Dakota Fanning Watch. While we realize that, yes, this could be construed as an activity prohibited under Meghan's Law, Defamer's Dakota Fanning Watch is strangely fascinating stuff, and, quite frankly, awfully cute, "... Another tipster informs us that Fanning?s handlers show a blatant disregard for the prevailing low-carb nutritional wisdom, as a fresh shipment of Krispy Kremes are flown in each day from Sydney to the Charlotte?s Web shoot in Melbourne." La Principessa! The next thing you know, dear readers, vintage carbonated fruit drinks will be spirited into her trailer via the South China Seas, and world champion double dutchesses will be bought to play with her in between shooting, all included, shrewdly, in her contract rider. (Averted Gaze) Oh, where does the deluxe Diva behavior end? (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment)

Out: John Bolton. Imagine being chased around a Russian hotel room by a man in a "Got Milk" moustache, crazed Brittney Murphy eyes and a cracked little giggle. *The Corsair shudders* Although Fox News reports that the White House has renewed it's support of Bolton, Republican Russ Feingold opposes his Ambassadorship. The surprise defection of Republican George Voinovich, who wanted further hearings on Bolton in the light of the gone-batshit-in-a-Russian-hotel allegations doesn't augur "ducky" for the White House. Or Bolton, for that matter.



In: Emanuel Lewis, AKA, Webster. (image via Americanphoto) Emanu-fucking-el Lewis. (The Corsair sips a Macallan and soda) According to the AP:

"A police officer will be reprimanded for not giving a speeding ticket to former child television star Emmanuel Lewis after he was clocked driving 25 mph over the posted speed limit while towing a trailer loaded with an sports utility vehicle.

"Lewis, the former star of the '80s television series 'Webster,' got off with only a verbal warning when he gave his autograph and posed for a photo with the police officer and the police chief in this southwest Georgia town. Lewis, who now lives in the Atlanta area, was clocked driving through town at 70 mph in a 45 mph zone.

"Although police officers can use discretion in issuing tickets, the Warwick City Council concluded Tuesday that Officer Ron Kirk's actions were improper."

Out: Tom Touchet, Today Show Executive Producer. (The Corsair is not even going to try to pronounce that last "sexual harassmentish" name in mixed company) Being Executive Producer of NBC's most profitable show is a rummy, ultracompetetive business that robs one of basic human dignity. Not to mention the cumulative wear-and-tear on the ole kneecaps that "orally servicing" all those publicists for their A-List talent does to bone cartilage. Touchet will presently have some time to rethink things, to "smooth himself out." According to the LATimes (link via Iwantmedia):

"NBC fired 'Today' show executive producer Tom Touchet from his post Tuesday afternoon, shaking up the morning show juggernaut amid signs that ABC's 'Good Morning America' is closing the gap with its top-rated rival.

"Lauren Kapp, a 'Today' spokeswoman, confirmed Touchet's removal but offered no specifics about his departure or replacement, saying that NBC would release more information about the change today.The network is reportedly considering tapping NBC Sports producer James Bell and MSNBC executive Phil Griffin to take over the news program.

" ... Rumors of Touchet's impending dismissal had circulated for several days amid intensifying focus on the show's ratings.'Today' is watched by an average 6 million people daily and brings in an estimated $300 million in advertising revenue a year. But in the last year, its lead over 'Good Morning America' has been cut almost in half, to an average of 662,000 viewers. "

Jay Z: What "Time" is it?



(image via Harperacademic)

Fashionweekdaily spent some quality Time -- capital "T" -- with hypercapitalist Jay Z on the subject of Time. (A considerable pause) Fucking deep, yo. His "Zeit," playa, is sharper than his "Sund," let me tell you:

"Fashionweekdaily: Did you have any design input on these watches?

"Jay Z: Yes, it was very important for me to do it right. I wanted these watches to be very tasteful. There�s no 'bling' on these watches; I didn�t want them wearing a backwards cap."

Swell and lovely. But ... The Corsair still has "99 problems" with that answer. Like, aren't rappers supposed to be more nimble on "the improv tip"? We expected so very much more from a slinger of rhyme. We expected him to turn his street knowledge on "the problem of death," and the puzzle of the "diamond gleam." And where was his hard knock hustle on "dasein"? Alas. Another day.

Panel Discussion Today ( Note: Tonight's Panel Was Cancelled, Alas)

Am I fucking nervous? But of course. I will probably be exiting briskly from a back exit as soon as it is all over I'm not trying to cultivate an air of mystery or be a jerk. We are shy; we should not be out and about in public. Why does The Corsair do these things? Who knows. Probably it has something to do with being genetically hard wired not to say no to pretty women. The hottness factor makes me acts against my own self-interest. First, the "sessy" Liza Sabater asked me to do WYSIWYG and I said yes. Then, uberbloggerbabe Elizabeth Spiers asks me to do this panel and, likewise -- yes. My life would be so much easier if The Corsair could go on quasi-anonymous (sigh), bitchslapping complacent media and political celebrity.

That having been said, you are invited to attend. But if you ask me about "intellectual property issues, fair use, and libel law," I'll leap from the stage like a panther and pounce. I fucking swear I will. Rrrr.

Ron

Brando Island to Become Luxury Resort



(image via Tahitinuitravel)

The Corsair doesn't know why he is so obsessed with the soi-disant "Brando Island." It just sounds so thoroughly louche. Disreputable. In bad taste. It's something Don King and Donald Trump would want to hold controlling interest in. "Brando Island" (Averted Gaze) -- just the name -- it all sounds so ... excessive, de trop, like Brando himself, embodied in his later years as he lay on his back, mantanned, belly aquiver in the floral breeze, after a rough day of "rutting" with the locals, being fed fiery rum-concoctions from bamboo cups by giggling children ("Big Daddy is so funny!"), frisky and fancy-free in the Polynesian sun. Pagan!

Perhaps we are so fixated because it conjures up memories of the mysterious TV show "Danger Island" that played a big part in our formative years. Anyway, according to CNN:

"As he pondered his own twilight, Brando envisioned sharing his private atoll in French Polynesia.

"Celebrities could go there to escape the paparazzi. Each villa could have a Polynesian couple to cook for guests, take them spearfishing, teach the Tahitian names of the plants and birds and play the guitar at night."

We imagine this is called "The 'Id' Vacation Package." (Averted Gaze) It should be gangbusters with pro-athletes, mafiosi, rock musicians and Damn Dash. (see #23 of the Corsair 25)

"Less than a year after his death last July from lung failure at age 80, Brando's vision could be nearer reality.

"An environmentally-sensitive 30-bungalow resort, to be called, 'The Brando,' is scheduled to open in 2008 on Tetiaroa, the island the actor bought in 1965. The only current inhabitant is Brando's son, Teihotu, one of his children with ex-wife Tarita Teriipia."

One pictures lazy afternoons engorged on and sticky with pulpy, overripe South Pacific fruits. A truculent belch is immediately followed by the self-satisfied smile of a Pagan God. The smell of the sweet South Pacific sea air mingling with vivid island flowers excites the passions. Lording over the seashore with an imperious air, ordering the children to carry you in your chair (faster!), like Tiberius on Capri. Sloppily copulating in the sand and volcanic ash with golden goddesses, flowered hair, whose hips are lethal weapons. Hmm. On second thought: Sign me the fuck up for that vacation package -- shnell! "Id," indeed.

"'Marlon always felt that the Polynesians, more than anyone else in the world, had found an unhurried and humorous way to go through life. He always hoped his life could be so uncomplicated, but unfortunately that was not the case,' said developer Richard Bailey, CEO of Tahiti Beachcomber SA, who worked with Brando in the years before his death.

"Brando spoke fondly of that privacy, once telling CNN interviewer Larry King: 'When I lie on the beach there naked,"

(The Corsair winces)

" ... Which I do sometimes, and I feel the wind coming over me .."

(Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment)

" ... And I see the stars up above and I am looking into this very deep, indescribable night, it is something that escapes my vocabulary to describe."

Which is not difficult for Brando, a fine actor, but one who often painted with the rather limted palate of grunts, incoherent speechifying and the occasional groan. The full article on CNN

A Little of the Old In and Out



In: MarthaMarthaMartha! Ankle-braceleted, Our Martha persists. A wild stallion cannot be contained. (The Corsair sparks up a Kahlua Cigar Delicioso) According to the AP:

"Six weeks after being released from a U.S. federal prison, Martha Stewart has reached a deal with Sirius Satellite Radio Inc. to create a 24-hour channel featuring cooking, gardening and entertaining programming for women.

"Coming on the heels of separate deals to create a version of The Apprentice and a daily cooking show, the four-year agreement announced Monday with Sirius marks Stewart's latest move to rebuild her business after serving time for lying to the government about a stock sale.

"'I don't know about you, but I was raised on the radio,' Stewart said, smiling broadly during a news conference in New York. "

You go, girl.

Out: The Witherspoon Stalkers. Nothing like the photo of a petite woman at wits end whose marriage is in trouble, eh? The value of the "Reese Witherspoon-in-distress" moneyshot must be astronomical indeed, because thumos-infused stalkerazzi have lost any sense of moral proportion, and taken to acting like ferral beasts. According to the Daily News:
"The actress' nightmare began as she exited her gym and was swarmed by photographers.

"'Her trainer came out and had to help her get past them so she could get into her car,' a source told the Daily News. 'Then they boxed her in on all four sides.'

"'When she finally pulled out, they jumped in their cars and took off after her. They almost ran her off the road,' the source said.

"'They chased her all the way home to where she lives in a gated community. The security guards jumped out and had to assist her to get away from them.'"

In: The Romenesko Blog. It took this Slate article (link via iwantmedia) to remind us just how brimming with zesty excellence is the Romenesko blog. Sometimes, unfortunately, we just take this resource for granted. Jack Shafer writes:

"... Thanks to Romenesko's influential readership, every journalistic sin?venal or cardinal?that's published and gets billboarded on his Web page becomes a national story. Everybody from news aides to media moguls reads the site, which is hosted by the Poynter Institute, a gold-plated nonprofit that specializes in remedial education for journalists. A big splash on Romenesko obliges the Washington Post's Howard Kurtz to write about it in his column and examine it on his television show, the New York Times to digest it, and columnists everywhere to riff on it."

And, speaking of journalistic sin ...

Out: James Oppenheim, Dickhead. The Today Show, despite its spectacular lowest-common-denominator vapidness, is actually a part of NBC's News division, so, in that spirit, despite the smiley, good natured on-air ribbing on Matt Lauer's retreating hairline and Al Roker's retreating waist, the following particular story rankled us galactically. According to the Wall Street Journal (link via Romenesko):

"Mr. Oppenheim went on NBC's 'Today' show, the U.S.'s biggest national morning news program, which is part of NBC's news division. 'Kodak came out with a great idea,' he said to host Ann Curry, before proceeding to talk about the same product he'd been paid to discuss on KVUE. Ms. Curry called it a 'nice gift for a little child.' Kodak says it didn't pay for the 'Today' show mention. But neither Mr. Oppenheim nor NBC disclosed (his) prior arrangement to tout the product on local TV.

"In the 'Today' segment, Mr. Oppenheim talked about products made or sold by 15 companies. Nine were former clients and eight of those had paid him for product placement on local TV during the preceding year."



Above: Indie director Todd Solondz positions himself strategically between the cameras and Ellen Barkin's noteworthy "breast-sweat."

In: Todd Solondz. Granted, The Corsair will be the first to admit that after seeing Welcome to the Dollhouse, the first words out of our mouth were, "naught else but simple shit." A lot can change in ten years. We get Solondz now; we dig his shit. It took us a while, but we came around. His work is rich, and his thoughts are interesting. In an Indiewire interview:

"iW: 'Palindromes,' like much of your work, seems engaged with the idea that people never change.

"Todd Solondz: Of course it's indisputable we change, but there is a part of ourselves that is immutable. There can be a kind of struggle. Some people are troubled by the age-old philosophical question presented here. Certainly, if you are religious you must believe in free will, otherwise you cannot make a leap of faith. Those of the atheistic turn of mind will look at things differently.

"Obviously our genetic code, our life experience, the randomness of it all combines to present our lives in such a way that we imagine that we have a choice between Bush and Kerry. But of course it is the illusion, the vanity of the choice that we cannot but choose the one because we are so determined and shaped by our whole life experience. In fact, if one can embrace one's limitations it can be a very freeing thing and does not in any sense disallow the possibility of social improvement. Of course, the whole culture is hinged on this notion that self-improvement is the key to happiness and success and that the denial of this would be a kind of nihilistic, even cynical attitude. And yet, that's all provided one is someone who is capable of improvement.

"Provided one is capable, one can improve. But as a species we certainly are no more advanced than we were 5,000 years ago, morally speaking. Read the newspaper every day. I can't see how we're an improved species. My movies can't compete with what's on TV. It's the age of 24/7 Terri Schiavo. What could be a greater obscenity or grotesquery? It's there in the paper every day, much harsher than anything I do."

Yeah. What he said



Above: The moment of Truth. A hush falls across the crowded room. In muted tones, Natalie Pray announces that all the Peruvian Peasants have been freshly bled into the cocktails.

Out: Peruvian Peasant Juice. Terrible. Just terrible, this rummy business of" juicing Peruvians." And for what? Eternal Life? The discreet charm of owning their souls in the Afterworld?

For shame.

According to Our favorite social chronicler with a good sense of humor, David Patrick Columbia, in NYSocialDiary:

"Geoffrey Bradfield, the international interior designer who chaired the event, also held a cocktail party, called for 8 p.m. at his new townhouse on East 61st. There were about a hundred or so congregated on the white on white ground floor reception room and the tented garden with its Elsie de Wolfe green lattice. Champagne and giant strawberries served on silver trays."

"Champagne"? Is that what they call it nowadays?

In: Michael Musto. Why hasn't this man been on Topic: A With Tina Brown? A media program that values wit and excluded Michael Musto? Preposterous! (The Corsair fumes) And, while we are on the subject, Why hasn't The Corsair been a "Hot Pick"? What is the meaning of this thusness? We are thoroughly confused. Says Musto:

"Apparently, TINA BROWN thinks Desperate Housewives is already post-peak?you know, it's not necessarily her hot pick of the week anymore. I learned this at an event for the documentary Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room from a gung ho producer for Tina's struggling cable program, who insisted, "You should write about how great the show is. We have an amazing audience. JOHN MCCAIN, WARREN BEATTY, and the CLINTONS watch it!'

"'Are you daft? You've booked every media person on earth except me,' I snarled. 'And they won't write about it!' she said."

So, book Michael Musto already.

Queen Latifah: Burger Queen



Queen Laifah is a "sassy mamma," as they say in Harlemworld. Always has been. Brassy, even. My friend "Pookie," on 125th street (holla back, Pook), who likes a woman "pushin' a little extra cushion," as they say, swears by Queen Latifah's "sassets." Some of that sass, via something called Moviehole:

"Anyone who's ever had to deal with a boss who's a jerk can relate to that, and how you really just want to tell their ass off one good time and walk out the door. So I'm doing it (in Beautyshop) for everyone who really wants to do it. I've got to do that one time in my life, and I know how it felt. I quit Burger King because the manager disrespected me. So after I tore him a new one I walked up out of there. Okay, actually he said I was fired, but I was going to quit anyway [Laughs]."

Prince Albert: Goes In For 'Un Mariage Blanc'



With Monaco facing the daunting possibility of incorporation into France (Quelle Horreur!), and thus forfeiting their relatively clean air for unsavory, sulfurous cheese-smells (Averted Gaze), Prince Albert was considering -- according to Park Avenue Gossiper and occasional tyrant-loving dingbat Cin Adams -- what can only be properly construed as the 'Dixie Cup Method':

"Powers-that- be and hope-to-be talk of His new Serene Highness Crown Prince Albert marrying, doing it in a cup and producing the requisite male heir before Al's closet-size principality slides back to France."

Well, the "cup-love" is apparently no longer an option. And of the out-of-the-closet-sized municipality, according to our favorite crimefighting gossip duo, Rush & Molloy:

"Representatives of the prince - whose father, Prince Rainier, was buried Friday - are quietly approaching well-born women in Europe and America with an unusual proposal, we hear.

"The discreet go-betweens are said to be asking members of other royal families and carefully vetted socialites if they might be interested in 'un mariage blanc.' In other words, our source makes clear, the would-be bride 'wouldn't face too much time in the same bed. The contract would require a minimum of two male children, preferably three. But that could be accomplished through in vitro fertilization.'"

Ah (The Corsair contemplates Baron de Montesquieu while staring into the sunset), those European contracts, so precise -- those "Espirit de lois" -- micromanaging beforehand the precise amount of "ham slammys" exchanged by the aristos during awkward copulation for the sake of producing pretty heirs, and, of course, the proper jewelry compensation after the inevitable cold showers and alcohol drenched shame.

We will not entertain the possibility that this sounds suspiciously like a manifestation of the dubious "John-'Ho" relationship, so often regarded by conservatives as a "Quality of Life" violation if practiced on the streets, but good clean fun in Geneva:

"In exchange, the bride would get a trust - it could be as much as $100 million. She might get some of the jewelry of his mother, Princess Grace. And she'd get to be princess!"

His Royal Highness, Prince Pimp and Her Serene Royal 'Honess? Hoist your pimp chalice in toast.

"Among those said to be on the palace's wish list are such upper crust American beauties as Elizabeth Koch, Cornelia Guest, Amanda Hearst and Lauren Bush. If he can't snag one of those, it's said, he might fall back on an actress or a model. Representatives of the prince - whose father, Prince Rainier, was buried Friday - are quietly approaching well-born women in Europe and America with an unusual proposal, we hear."

Does the approach go anything like, "Hey, baby, wanna break Prince Albert off a piece for a spot in Debrett's?"

Ann Coulter Get's The Time Magazine Fisheye



Above: "I'll get you, My pretty .."

According to Drudge, Conservative firebrand (pathbreaking "She-male"?) Ann Coulter has her panties in a twist (Eew) that Time Magazine used the old "fish-eye" technique on her cover story, rendering "Coulty" into the very epitome of a sort of "Wicked-Witch-of-the-Right":

"'Why can't they just photograph conservatives straight?!' blasted this week's TIME magazine covergirl Ann Coulter."

Coulter is referring, with customary and calculated histrionics, to the unflattering New York Magazine convention photos by Jason Schmidt back in August.

"The bestselling author and controversialist slammed magazine editors for fronting a photo of her, she claims, which is so distorted 'my own mother would not even recognize me!' The photographer, Platon, appears to have used a wide 'Fisheye' lense for the cover snap, stretching Coulter's legs and feet -- while shrinking the rest of her body."

The Adam's Apple, however, is not clearly discernible enough through the fish-eye-technique to render a final verdict on Coulter's actual sex. As to whether or not Coulter is indeed a pre-op trannie, we cannot say defnitively. Clearly, The Corsair will be following the story.

Jame "Buffalo Bill" Gumb as Ann Coulter (Link via Wonkette)