Official: Lee Roth, Carolla to Replace Stern; K-Rock Goes All Manly



(image via neweb)

This isn't earth-shattering news (we reported it here, back in July), but it's finally official: Adam Carolla, formerly of "The Man Show," and former EMT-rocker and friend of glossy magazine overlord Jason Binn, David Lee Roth are set to replace Howard Stern when he goes to satellite radio in January. Also, WXRK -- K-Rock -- in New York is going all "man-talk." According to DowJones (via smartmoney via iwantmedia)

"Viacom Inc.'s (VIA) Infinity Broadcasting group launched FREE FM format. It also named David Lee Roth and Adam Carolla as morning drive hosts in New York and Los Angeles, respectively."

"These and other moves are part of Infinity's Howard Stern replacement strategy. The shock jock's last live broadcast for Infinity will occur Dec. 16. His program is broadcast on 27 of Infinity's U.S. stations.

"... In a press release Tuesday, Infinity said it launched FREE FM in four of the top five and seven of the top 10 U.S. radio markets.

"Infinity Chairman and Chief Executive Joel Hollander said in a statement, 'FREE FM stations will feature an eclectic mix of personalities, whose distinct creativity, perspective, sense of humor, intellect and unpredictability do not fall under the guiding principals of any particular narrowcast theme or ideology.'"

"... Infinity named Penn Jillette, one-half of the comedy-magic team Penn & Teller, as host for a one-hour live radio program. The show will be broadcast in New York, Chicago, San Francisco. Washington, D.C., Detroit, San Diego, Baltimore and Las Vegas."

Well, when we think of " distinct creativity, perspective, sense of humor, intellect and unpredictability," the growly-voiced Penn Jillette immediately comes to mind. He's the man to bring back the ratings, right? Because magic tricks translate ever so well over the airwaves (Averted Gaze).

More here.

The 25 Most Shocking Moments in Film History



(image via reel.com)

The EW Blog calls our attention to Premiere's 25 Most Shocking Moments in film history. Usually we get all curmudgeonly about these sort of lists, which are often horrible "produced-by-committee" affairs (The Corsair sparks up an Ashton Robusto cigar), but Premiere Magazine obviously put a lot of thought into theirs and get much right. They miss, however, some of our favorites, such as:

-- The impossibly intense scene of Ingmar Bergman's masterly "Cries and Whispers" involving the frustrated and enraged aristocratic housewife Liv Ullman and a jagged piece of mirror in her "sex" (Incidentally, this film came out at the height of the rise of feminism).

-- Nino Brown's naked crack factory in "New Jack City." While insisting upon the nudity of all employees at the crack-rock production facility is, we'll admit, a shrewd business practice, the visuals involved -- the sui generis sweaty smocks, in particular -- were enough to make any respectable junkie abstain from further huffing of the rock.

--The eerie two suns of Luke Skywalker's home planet in the first Star Wars movie.

-- How about the quietly shocking sound of Bach's Concerto in F-Minor for Harpsichord skipping on the record-player as the adulterous Michael Caine abruptly kisses the tentative Barbara Hershey in Woody Allen's most perfect film, "Hannah and Her Sisters"?

-- Or the astonishingly vulnerable Coco undressing to the faux-Gallic cheers of "Et-vous, Coco ... et-vous" in a sleazy Manhattan apartment for that smutty camaera man in "Fame." Is that more "Heartbreaking" than "Shocking"?

-- The explosive -- quite literally -- garden sheer emasculation scene done under hypnotic strobe lights in Gregg Araki's unheralded gem "The Doom Generation."

-- Granted, the juicy ear-slicing in "Resevoir Dogs" scene is unforgettable, but how about the collarbone-breaking-adrenaline-pumping scene involving an OD'd Uma Thurman in "Pulp Fiction"? Or, while we are on "Pulp Fiction," what about jheri-curled Samuel L. Jackson mistakenly blowing the brains out of the hapless kid in the back seat? We jumped in our seat when that happened.

-- Billy Dee Williams gets his throat slashed in the New York City subway (By Billy Dee's own disgusting momentum) as a diversion by Ruger Hauer in the gritty 70s classic "Nighthawks," while Williams' partner, a scruffy Sylvester Stallone, engages in some impotent trash talk with the escaping terrorist.

-- How about Marchello Mastroianni whipping back the various personnages of his libido to the rousing blast of Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" Overture in Fellini's 8 1/2? Could that be properly construed as being "shocking"? Or, how about the falling of the Minotaur's sinister bludgeon in the climactic Labyrinth scene at the end of Fellini's pagan alfresco "The Satyricon."

-- Glenn Close tripping awkwardly off the screen to the sound of derisive boos and satanic fin de siecle hisses in the concluding scene of "Dangerous Liaisons"?

-- Burt Reynolds' losing three fingers one-by-one (And the attendant knife-on-meat butchershop sound effects action over Reynolds' muffled bitch-cries) to some no-necked thugs over the whereabouts of the very in-her-prime Rachel Ward in the oft-forgotten classic movie, "Sharky's Machine"?

-- Or, for the more contemporary-film-minded, Tilda Swinton and Benjamin Bratt's impossibly shocking "retrieving-the-spoon-from-the-ass" scene in "Thumbsucker."

What are your "Most Shocking Moments" in Film?

A Little of the Old In and Out



Always bet on black. (image via cupcakeinterview)

In: Ron Mwangaguhunga, "Long Shot Diversity Candidate," Indeed. Ahem; charmed we're sure (Averted Gaze). We prefer to think of ourselves not so much as instruments of diversity, but rather as -- oh -- "Otherworldly, almond-eyed, Ugandan sophisticate with nascent titanic media tendancies." Still (The Corsair pours himself a peppery cognac), God bless those merry blogging souls, Jess and Jess at Gawker for thinking of us. Today, they mischievously poll just who might achieve that rather comfy Mediabistro Empire perch vacated recently by the patron saint of bloggers, one -- Elizabeth Spiers. We are, admittedly, a longshot -- 50-1 (Damn that Jayson Blair! Damn him!).

Anyway, media-opining is harmless fun (We do it all the time; shooting long, lushly, and not without our characteristic dash of East African lacerating wit) so, says Gawker, playfully-snarkily:

"Last week was a big one for former Gawkbot Elizabeth Spiers, who sold her first novel and, 2 seconds later, quit her job as Mediabistro editor-in-chief. Now, as she cruises through her last week prancing about the office (assuming she stops in to pick up her potted plants and whatnot), the media-whoring masses are left wondering who founder Laurel Touby and publisher Kyle Crafton will find to fill Spiers's dainty shoes."

We are polling a respectable 11.6 percent at present (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment); if you want to vote -- do so by all means, no pressures and we won't boost ourselves (In a just world this spot would, quite frankly, go to Choire). Just ... it would be nice if we didn't get less than Michael Caruso -- Currently polling at a dismal less than 2 percent. We couldn't bare that soul-killing prospect before all the chattering classes and might just have to do a little Seppuku, Ugandan-style.



(image via emb-japan.go)

Out: The "Japan Card." And speaking of the lost Art of Seppuku, the "Japan Card" is being played by Beijing, from, we cannot fail to note, the bottom of the deck (Arched eyebrow, cocktail glass cocked askance). One of our media obsessions is the continued safety of Japan, a staunch US ally, in the wake of an increasingly aggressive China. Things are growing tense, of late, with Sino-Chinese relations which, all-in-all, were never just quite "ducky." According to our favorite Dickensian villain, Robert Novak:

"For the first time, China and Japan are great powers at the same time and eye each other with foreboding -- 127 million Japanese worried about 1.3 billion Chinese. To Japanese diplomats, Chinese outrage over the shrine visit is just Beijing playing its 'Japan card.' For seven years, Japan has dismissed Chinese demands for apologies about World War II as a power play for dominance in East Asia.

"The attitude by ordinary Japanese may be reflected by the colorful Shintaro Ishihara, governor of the Tokyo prefecture. Over dinner with me, he worried about Chinese advancement in long-range missiles and nuclear submarines threatening the U.S. protective shield around Japan.

"When I asked senior Japanese officials, they chuckled about the outspoken Ishihara but did not dispute him. They noted theories, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, that China is preparing either to push the Americans out of Asia or just overwhelm Taiwan."

True that, alas. What would happen, say, if China and their newfound ally Russia (post-Bratislava, AKA, "The Turning Point") decided, muscularly, to simply overwhelm Taiwan? Would the nearly overstretched United States intervene?

Terrifying.



Nick Pileggi and 'Nick Dunne. (image via NySocialDiary)

In: Dominick Dunne. Happy early birthday to Dominick Dunne, celebrated by our favorite social chronicler, David Patrick Columbia here. We've been following Dunne's exploits for some time now, especially his intense media feud with the slimy Melendez defense attorney, Leslie Abramson (Averted Gaze). Dunne's victim-centered reporting on crime's commited among the rich and powerful jet-set is sometimes -- but not always -- a bit too much in awe of the boldfacers for our tastes (We hath a healthy love of the boldfacers, but not when connected with murder and crime reporting); but Dunne's work is always compelling, and, most certainly borne from an acute personal tragedy.

David Patrick Columbia actually introduced us to Dunne a while ago. Dunne was at Michael's for lunch en route to Los Angeles to cover the final stages of the Blake murder trial, and then, afterwards, off to the Vanity Fair Oscar Party. We were stunned, awed, and mumbled our name and the name of our website on the introduction. Dunne nodded, blankly. Afterwards, starstruck, DPC told us that, unfortunately, Dunne probably didn't catch our name as he is now, sadly, a bit hard of hearing. Darn. Such is life.

Still, a happy -- early -- birthday Dominick Dunne. Keep on keeping on. (DPC on Dunne)

Cindy Does HIFF



(image via NYMag/ Mary Ellen Mark)

We'll cop to a harmless little obsession with the New York Post's Cindy Adams. Today Cindy Adams cannes ... and does -- the Hampton's International Film Fest! (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) We didn't attend (Averted Gaze). Rain, out-of-season, (Muttered under The Corsair's breath) lack of invite; what have you, whatever (The Corsair downs his sherry). But we do love a whole lotta bunches that saucy lady who lunches, who says, in passing:

"SOUTHAMPTON. This weekend was the 13th annual Hamptons Film Festival ... This rainy weekend bodies belonging to Kevin Bacon, Kyra Sedgwick, Roy Scheider, Bob Balaban sloshed from Sag Harbor to Montauk to see 27 world premieres, 23 U.S. premieres, four North American premieres, 18 East Coast premieres, seven New York premieres."

We are snared, unfortunately, on the disturbing visual of a drenched Cindy Adams -- "Cin," as we call her -- cradling her shivering lapdog out on the Eastern tip of Long Island. Make it stop (The Corsair says in a faint, cracked voice) make it stop:

"... Liza Minnelli � who was headlining here, who had a party and dinner thrown for her by Showtime's Matt Blank, whose 1972 restored 'Liza With a Z' TV special was a hot ticket here, whose producers Craig Zadan and Neil Meron had a stretch limo for her � was bunking with her dentist, Dr. Lazar. Me, I was sponging on marketing and p.r. exec Robert Zimmerman."
How very "meta," that (The Corsair pours himself another glass of dry Sherry). Seems like everything about Liza has been restored (her movies, her ex-husband, &c):

"... It was parties upon parties ... In between everyone � from Councilman Eric Gioia to international p.r. man Peter Brown to Anne Hearst to Jay McInerney, who told whoever was listening that he has a book coming out in January ..."

Hmm. We'll pass over in pregnant silence the age-old adage about authors who discuss at length their upcoming "productions" (Averted Gaze) and grade the boldfacers aforementioned as decidedly "C" -- a respectable, gentemanly C, to be sure; but still a C for Cin. More:

"� there was always Alec Baldwin. Wherever you went, Alec Baldwin. The guy was everyplace. Like crab grass. He had an appetizer at the Palm, entree at Nick & Toni's, salad somewhere in Wainscott, and said, 'This festival is like a ski trip in Aspen. Everyone you see you make plans to have dinner with.' And then he raced off to dessert in Amagansett."

Charmed, we're sure. Alec Baldwin is everywhere; even all-up in the Arianna's blogosphere, via HuffPo. Also mentioned, later: Is Alan Cummings wearing a "fancy black wig," or, as he describes it, "they put this Veronica Webb weave on me." (Averted Gaze)

Oh what a tangled Webb we weave -- More "Cin" here.

A Little of the Old In and Out



(image via drudgereport)

In: Maureen Dowd Bitchslaps Judith Miller. When we put down our morning Kenyan blend coffee and turned, serenely, to the Op-Ed page of The Old Gray Lady, we were quite, well ... surprised -- yes, that's the word -- to see Maureen Dowd crisply bitchslap her colleague Judith Miller.

(A considerable pause) It was like an embarrasing but brilliantly sarcastic on-the-"hush-hush" intra-office email that, somehow, gets on Gawker; only, this one makes it all the way to the Op-Ed page of the most powerful paper in the world. And it's harsh. Really and truly, it's harsh. Here's a taste, via Romenesko:

"The traits [Judith Miller] has that drive many reporters at The Times crazy -- her tropism toward powerful men, her frantic intensity and her peculiar mixture of hard work and hauteur -- never bothered me. I enjoy operatic types.

"... She never knew when to quit. That was her talent and her flaw. Sorely in need of a tight editorial leash, she was kept on no leash at all, and that has hurt this paper and its trust with readers

"... Judy told The Times that she plans to write a book and intends to return to the newsroom, hoping to cover 'the same thing I've always covered -- threats to our country.' If that were to happen, the institution most in danger would be the newspaper in your hands."

Wow. And we didn't even mention the time Judith audaciously pulled rank on Dowd, grabbed her seat at a press briefing and forced her into the back of a briefing room. More here.



From the Karanina show. (image via British vogue)

Out: LA Fashion Week, Bizarro-World. On the left coast a sort of bizarro universe called LA Fashion Week has emerged (Averted Gaze), with activity swirling aroung Smashbox Studios in Culver City and "Reality TV stars" and the ex-wives of B-Listers populating the front rows (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment). Charmed, I'm sure; if you go in for that sort of thing. Says the LATimes, archly:

"Outside the tent at Los Angeles Fashion Week, a guy in white angel wings waves C-, D- and E-list celebrities from the valet line to a postage-stamp-size photo backdrop. Mike Tyson arrives with a pair of blond playmates, flashing a gold-toothed grin. Internet pinup queen Cindy Margolis puffs out her chest for the cameras. Golden Globe winner Angela Bassett almost sneaks by, dressed down in geeky glasses and jeans.

"... At L.A. Fashion Week, which wrapped up Friday with the first L.A. Fashion Awards, the front row isn't filled with masthead queens like Vogue's Anna Wintour, or socialites of the Aerin Lauder breed. Instead, there are reality show stars, stylists, model groupies and Hollywood rich kids. Here, anyone can design a collection. It doesn't matter whether you've apprenticed with Oscar de la Renta for five years or received the blessing of Wintour. If you have made a bikini for Paris Hilton or you are the wife of a 1960s rock icon, that's enough to jump-start a business.

"... As casual as it all seems, an invitation and a seating assignment are needed to attend the shows, though there are plenty of crashers, usually people calling themselves 'stylists.'"

Mike Sonnenschein of FishbowlLA summed it all up brilliantly, "(I)f you do a Google news search for 'Los Angeles Fashion Week', you mostly get news from England or Canada or India. So: Los Angeles Fashion Week! Very influential on the streets of Mumbai!"



Denise Kassell (l.) and indie director Christine Vachon. (image via variety via wireimage)

In: Denise Kassell. Blame it on timing, or the high end year-round residents, but the HIFF is growing in clout. We actually wouldn't mind schlepping out to the Eastern tip of Long Island at this ungodly time of year to see "Tristam Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story" and some of the Human Rights fare in the salt air. Denise Kassell, the HIFF Executive Director, deserves a shout out for that. According to Newsday's Gene Seymore:

"'The more visible (The Hampton's International Film Festival has) become, the more studios are calling us,' says Denise Kassell, in her eighth year as the festival's executive director. 'And it's not just here but all over the world where we're becoming a brand name for producers and distributors.

"Before Kassell took hold of the festival reins, there had been what Variety had characterized as a 'swinging door' of executive directors and programmers. 'We knew back about seven years ago that if this festival was going to continue we needed commitment from the [Hamptons] community and stability within the organization,' she says.

"'And we needed to do some real work in strategic, long-term planning. We needed to develop programs that gave this festival a genuine identity.'Among those programs is Films of Conflict and Resolution, in its seventh year, which showcases movies that deal with human-rights issues throughout the world.

"'These are films that may make it to the Human Rights Festival but may not draw people from our area,' Kassell says.

"...'The way the film calendar has shaped up in recent years has worked to our advantage,' (Rajendra) Roy says. 'Oscar campaigns tend to start at about this time of the year, and there are a lot of industry people living out here in the East End who vote [for Academy Awards]. What's also helped our profile is that there are fewer and fewer places in America where foreign films are marketed and exhibited. Here we have an audience base that can really get behind these films.'"

Box office info here.



(image via dallasnews)

Out: Harriet Miers. As we said Thursday, we cannot possibly see -- logically -- how Miers could be confirmed if the Democrats and Republican conservatives combine forces on the perfectly defensible charge of "Swell Person: but clearly unqualified; Next?" (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment)

Of course, The President would want -- but probably not ask out-and-out directly -- for Miers to gently withdraw from consideration, thus saving the embarassment. There is nothing in Ole Harriet's psychological profile, by the way, that suggests that she has ever denied the President any of his whims. This way, politically at least, The President could, ostensibly, save the next three years (A public Borking and Senate defeat of Miers would all but certainly signal with a brutal finality the utter "lame-duckness" of this Administration). Says the conservative Washington Times (link via HuffingtonPost):

"The White House has begun making contingency plans for the withdrawal of Harriet Miers as President Bush's choice to fill a seat on the Supreme Court, conservative sources said yesterday.

"'White House senior staff are starting to ask outside people, saying, 'We're not discussing pulling out her nomination, but if we were to, do you have any advice as to how we should do it?' " a conservative Republican with ties to the White House told The Washington Times.

"The White House denied making such calls."

Can someone say meltdown?



(image via bitforms)

In: Mark Napier. Artist Mark Napier, husband of the magnificent Liz Sabater, is exhibiting his work at Bitforms on 529 West 20th Street tonight -- opening reception -- that continues until November 31st. He works in such interesting mediums, among others, as "custom software," and -- this is intense, people -- "plasma." (The Corsair sips a glass of port) Says Bitforms:

"Mark Napier, painter-turned-new-media-artist, is a pioneer in the realm of Internet art. Through his early web-based artworks such as �The Shredder�, �Digital Landfill�, and �Feed�, Napier explores the potential of worldwide networks as a public space for virtual art. His experience as a software developer informs Napier's software craft- he uses code as an expressive form, and the Internet as his exhibition space and laboratory. Napier's online studio, potatoland.org, is an open playground of interactive artwork. Napier creates a wide range of projects that appropriate data from the web- transforming content into abstraction, text into graphics, and information into art. "

Don't miss this show.

Why "60 Minutes" is not the Naked News, and Other Observations

(image via smallerclothes via cbsnews)

First off: Congratulations to "60 Minutes" on acquiring a sole sponsor; let's hope, however, that in the process, beloved CBS News (Beloved to The Corsair, at least) didn't have to sell it's "journalistic sweet ass" in the process. Will the 38th season be the season "60 Minutes" finally succumbs to the Shark (Okay, the godawful Clinton-Dole debates come close)? Granted: Sunday is sports day, especially on CBS in the afternoons and into the early evenings; and granted, CBS wants to hold on to that valuable demographic. But CBS Sports and, quite frankly, the entertainment division in general is overstepping its bounds -- mightily, this season -- and is jocularly muscling its way into the personal space of that paragon of investigative broadcast journalism, "60 Minutes."

Note to CBS Sports: Get out of 60 Minutes' "Zone." And while, yes, The Corsair can understand why Les Moonves might want to marry the profitability -- and zesty young demographic -- of the entertainment division with the prestige and gravitas of news department (Isn't that what this blog does anyway, or, at least, tries to do, anyhow?), there is no need, no need, to change the tried-and-true recipe of "60 Minutes" so dramatically. Three weeks and three sweaty sports stories is about as subtle a maneuver as a sledgehammer, guys. "60 Minutes," we cannot fail to note, is not the Naked News.

(A considerable pause) What is up with "60 Minutes" this season? Is it just The Corsair, or is 60 Minutes -- this season, post-Don Hewitt -- putting extra-special emphasis on sports and entertainment, and less and less on war trouble zones, entrenched corruption, emerging trends, and generally the types of pieces that essentially made us fall in love with "60 Minutes" in the first place? We'll even tolerate Morley Safer's pseudo-sophisticated cultural pieces (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) on the "works" of Botero and -- worse -- Renee Fleming (Averted Gaze).

What is going on here? First, we had that story on Nascar -- okay, okay: CBS had a felt-need to reach out and touch the red-states and inquire, not unlike suppliants, as to how they spend their time, fine; whatever. We can accept that. Vaguely. Then, the steroidal abuse of someone called "Romo." A big issue, to be sure (Averted Gaze); but that territory -- that land of "Romo" -- was covered already extensively with the oily Jose Canseco back in February. We like to limit our intake of hydrogenated oils, you see (Eyebrow arched). We don't need to revisit the story with "Romo" (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment). Really, we don't.

And now ... Michael Jordan feeling "used" is barely news. Barely. What is happening?

All of this, of course, comes at a time when, as Don Kaplan of the NYPost suggests, "CBS boss Les Moonves is considering is moving MTV entertainment chief Brian Graden to head CBS News."

The Corsair can see the writing on the wall and out of love for "60 Minutes" we ask you to come back to what made you great -- come back!

Gwyneth, Rated PG?



(image via treehugger)

Is Gwyneth Paltrow pregnant again? We really aren't all that curious (That whole "cupping" fiasco back-in-the-say really kinda fucked with our mellow), but on the odd-chance that some readers are, according to TheSun:

"HOLLYWOOD babe Gwyneth Paltrow was last night rumoured to be expecting her second child with Coldplay singer Chris Martin.

"Her mum, actress Blythe Danner, 62, appeared to let the cat out of the bag at an LA awards ceremony when asked if she was going to be a granny again. She replied: 'Yes I am.'

"It was also reported the tot is due in the spring and was conceived backstage at a gig."

"Gwyneth�s agent refused to comment."

We would too if it we got "knocked-up" backstage at a gig (Averted Gaze). Charmed, we're sure.

Yesterday the PC was on the fritz. All fixed now. Apologies for the lack of a heads-up (And, that Angelina Jolie didn't end up making the St. John's Show -- the rumor turned out false). --R

Zorro Brought Catherine Zeta Jones and Michael Douglas Together



"'He hounded me and followed me.." (image via handbag.com)

The Mask of Zorro brought together former-sex addict Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones even as it brought up The Corsair's boozy lunch the day we saw that lamentable film. (There was no official mention of rubies and sapphires, although we are fairly sure they played a part in Zeta-Jones' final decision). According to Moviehole:

"It�s been almost a decade since a relatively unknown Zeta-Jones lit up the screen in the first Zorro, and she knew the time was right for her to do it again at this juncture of her career. 'I used to bump into Antonio and Martin Campbell, and we began with this conversation: �Let's do another one. Come on. It's so much fun. For me it was not just professionally important but personally important. Michael saw me in the first one and � seduced me,� she recalls, laughingly. 'He hounded me and followed me around the world until he found me. Now look at me now, two kids later ...'"

Ah, the thin line between "manhunting" and wedded bliss. Or, rubies are a girl's best friend.

Atoosa Rubenstein's Questioning Intonation, You Know?



(image via melanie flood)

Does a person's profession influence their language patterns? As a Gemini, we are concerned with such suchness. It comes as no surprise to learn that Atoosa Rubenstein, the bosomy editor of Seventeen ("she's got stacks like the International House of Pancakes"), speaks fluent teenagese. (Averted Gaze) She speaks that language, unfortunately, even when out of earshot of that species (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment). According to the salmon-colored weekly:

"Ms. Rubenstein speaks in a childish drawl, with sentences that spike up in pitch toward the end, and has retained the slightly awkward body language of the gangly teenager she once was: growing up Iranian-American on Long Island, lonely and awkward, 'an outsider,' which led to an almost religious obsession with teenage magazines. 'I wish I could reach back to that girl, because that girl was sad,' she said. 'That�s what gives me my purpose.' At age 19, she visited a psychic, who predicted that young Atoosa would have a big media career. 'I do feel like it�s my destiny,' Ms. Rubenstein said.

"... By the time Hearst itself acquired Seventeen in 2003, the magazine was badly ailing: its graphics and photography muted and muddy, its glory days of Brooke Shields layouts and fat, peppy back-to-school issues but a distant memory.

�'With CosmoGirl!, I built my dream house, you know?'"

�...'With Seventeen, it was a totally different project, in that I inherited this magnificent estate, in the best location possible; however, it was in complete disarray. It was trashed. I mean, before we could even redecorate or renovate, we had to clean, you know?'"

We know, Atoosa ... we know. (Averted Gaze) But give us some more of that 33-year-old-woman-doing-a-teenage-voice, cause it's "fire;" only this time (The Corsair pours himself a glass of tawney Madeira) ... call us "Daddy" (Observer)

A Little of the Old In And Out



The Funder at work. (image via media.salemwebnetwork)

In: John Fund, "Lame-Ducks" The President. Set the TiVo on the sleepy province called C-Span in advance of -- dig this -- the Best. Borking. Ever. (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) Gag Harriet Miers with a fork -- she's done (Averted Gaze). John "The Funder" Fund's Wall Street Journal column on Monday -- link here -- may have singlehandedly sunk the possibilities of Harriet Miers on the Supreme Court. That's what we call "juice." Our favorite Dickensian villain, Robert Novak, who hips us to the mother-jazz, writes:

"President Bush's agents have convinced conservative Republican senators heartsick over his nomination of Harriet Miers to the Supreme Court that they must support her to save his presidency. But that does not guarantee her confirmation. Ahead are hearings of unspeakable ugliness that can be prevented only if Democratic senators exercise unaccustomed restraint."

"Unspeakable ugliness"? Oh, Novak -- speak; speak that we might know its name:

"Will the Judiciary Committee Democrats insist on putting under oath two Texas judges who are alleged to have guaranteed during a conference call of Christian conservatives that Miers would vote to overturn Roe vs. Wade?

"... Bush was not prepared for the negative reaction from the GOP base when he nominated White House Counsel Miers. ... John Fund's column in Monday's Wall Street Journal chilled the president's backers. He reported a conference call with religious conservatives Oct. 3, the day the nomination was announced.

"Fund wrote that Texas Supreme Court Justice Nathan Hecht and U.S. District Judge Ed Kinkeade, on the call, flatly predicted that their friend Miers would rule against Roe vs. Wade. Although the two jurists deny that, I checked with two sources on the conference call who confirmed Fund's version. That raises the possibility of bringing two judges under oath before the Senate committee"

We predict both Democrats and Republicans will unite on the "incompetence" charge, and Harriet Miers will not get confirmed, thus, effectively "lame-ducking" President Bush.



(image via Lester Cohen/ WireImage.com)

Out: Brad Grey. Big Sumner pulled the rug out from under Brad Grey's bid for Dreamworks. Oof-a! According to Claudia Eller of the Los Angeles Times (via iwantmedia):

"Paramount Pictures' parent company, Viacom Inc., has nixed the idea of making a bid for DreamWorks SKG, according to three sources inside Viacom and Paramount. The sources said that Viacom Chairman Sumner Redstone, who controls the board, worried that shareholders and potential investors would balk at a major acquisition � DreamWorks is asking about $1 billion � at a time when Viacom is poised to split into two publicly traded companies.

"Viacom executives declined to comment, but a source close to the company confirmed Wednesday: 'DreamWorks is a great asset, but with the split pending, we couldn't make an acquisition at this time.' With Paramount out of the picture, NBC Universal is the only remaining suitor for the live-action studio of DreamWorks, which was founded 11 years ago by David Geffen, Jeffrey Katzenberg and Steven Spielberg. General Electric's NBC Universal on Friday put a revised bid on the table. DreamWorks has not formally responded to that bid.NBC Universal's latest offer came after Geffen halted negotiations last month when GE suddenly lowered its original bid.

"When those talks collapsed, Paramount Chairman Brad Grey immediately contacted Geffen to express interest in DreamWorks. Although Grey had Viacom's blessing to begin talks, he would have needed the approval of the Viacom board to make an actual bid.But things never got that far."

Ouch. Does that mean Grey still has to co-finance Geffen's quixotic "Dreamgirls" project(Averted Gaze)?



(image via nysocialdiary)

In: Michael Gross. We are roughly one-quarter into our pal Michael Gross' fascinating 740 Park (We're midway through The Great Depression), a study of the most envy-inducing apartment building in Manhattan (The Corsair lightly salivates). Last night's swishy party at Georgette Mosbacher's crib for the book had everyone from Cindy Adams and Warren Hogue to the lovely Phoebe Eaton, in, we cannot fail to note, a fetching little black number (The Corsair's legs go woozy). Our favorite social chronicler and all-around swell guy David Patrick Columbia sums up the talent in the room, in NYSocialDiary:

"Mrs. Mosbacher, the cosmetics and skin-care tycooness, invited 200 of the most prominent talkers, opinion-makers, blabbermouths and social gadflies, along with their best friends, acquaintances and the people who make up the media. Very smart, Mrs. Mosbacher, she is.

"Because practically everyone in the room is dying to read the book to find out if Michael Gross wrote what they already know (but wouldn�t tell him), and just exactly where he drew the line in revealing the 'inside' on all the families that have lived in this famously sought after residential building that sits on the northwest corner of Park Avenue and 71st Street.

" ... In many ways, New York is a small town, and like all small towns, there are the pieces of real estate (the biggest house in town, for example) that stimulate interest, envy, greed, and all the other Machiavellian traits that taunt our psyches at one point or another. 740 Park is the place that frequently haunts the dreams of the must-haves in Manhattan ... There will be discussions for some time as to whether or not Michael Gross was fair or mean to the tenants of the building. It doesn�t matter. As I�ve written here before about his book, it is a testament to the fact that all gossip ultimately becomes history, even, alas, the stuff that�s not true." More here.



To whence hath these luscious lips absconded? Bette? (image via edge.org)

Out: Michael Wolff, MIA at Michael's. Come out, come out, wherever you are! Michael, where are you? Michael ...? Aww, don't be like that Michael Wolff. According to FishbowlNY (Which, according to Gawker, The Corsair has 50-1 odds at running):

"As promised, here is 'Lunch at Michael's' replete with all sorts of sketchy details about who ate with whom at our media-centric world's eatery of choice that isn't Nobu 57 or Milos, which last we heard were Michael Wolff's eateries of choice. Wow. You know you cast a long shadow when you're the first boldface name in a post about boldfaced names, and you weren't even there. God, being remote and inaccessible really does work. Michael Wolff, now we only want you more."

So, it's been about 2 weeks since Michael abdicated Table 5; in his place were "CBS big gun Gil Schwartz" in a "diagonally-striped tie in citrus colors" and "NYT business writer Richard Siklos."

More "Lunch at Michael's"



(image via britishvogue)

In: Naomi's Golden Afro. We like. Shoot that Golden Afro through my heeeaaart ... This, on a rather slow news day, from British Vogue:

"NAOMI CAMPBELL hosted a party to celebrate the launch of Iman's new book, The Beauty of Color: The Ultimate Guide for Skin of Color in New York this week and, no matter that she was standardly late � her new golden afro more than made up for it. As usual glamorous and professional, Iman took on the hosting duties with her husband David Bowie and welcomed plenty of A-list guests including Wesley Snipes, Andre Leon Talley, Star Jones and Mayor Michael Bloomberg."

That golden afro is more than sexy ... it's ... "sessy."

Director Tony Scott to Keira Knightley: "Go On! Fuck! Fuck!"



(image via picrank)

Granted, this sex scene doesn't sound as uncomfortable as the sex scenes are -- reportedly -- on the set of a Spike Lee film (Averted Gaze), but still ... director Tony Scott is like school on Saturday. According to the 3AM Girls:

"PRIDE And Prejudice star Keira Knightley clearly had no qualms about flinging off her corset and petticoats for her latest movie, Domino.

"Talking about the film's steamy scenes, the 20-year-old says: "Filming that sex scene in the middle of the desert, being topless with a very beautiful Venezuelan guy? I think I was very lucky!

"'A camera went round and round Edgar Ramirez and I while we were acting the scene, with the director Tony Scott yelling, 'Go on! F***! F***!' I was like, 'This is so undignified'."

But hott.

Feeling Veepish?



Veep material? (image via icnn.net)

If Dick Cheney is indicted in the Plame leak investigation, President Bush will be faced with a few choices in picking a new Vice President, namely: 1) Does he try to regain his base, or, 2) Does he try to reach out to the center; 3) Does he pick his brother, Jeb? Or, 4) Does he pick an African-American to uplift his abysmal 2% approval rating thus regaining ground that the Republican Party made in 2004 and with Mehlman's courageous apologia.

We don't think he'd pick "Jebby." That's far too cronyish and, quite frankly, it defies the laws of logic. Still, we had to throw it out there.

The President will be certainly be concerned with the matter of his legacy. The question is whether The President will trust his legacy in the hands of conservatives, neoconservatives (most likely), or just buck it all in a gamble and deal with the Center, in an attempt to stave-off the pungent whiffs of "lame duck" that have pervaded the Administration ever since Hurricane Katrina (Frankly, we already wrote him off as a lame duck, but we are in the minority on that position).

If the President decides, as he well might, to go after his base -- to cement an uncertain legacy in the heartland -- he would do well to pick a sitting Senator or Governor from a solid red-state who would bring to the table a constituency and (Haley Barbour? Sam Brownback?).

Conservatives, however, have written Bush off after the Miers nomination; once a Conservative makes up their mind about the nature of a man's character, it tends to stay made up. Jack Kemp, we imagine, beloved among Conservatives (But who got kind on of prickly with Bush, Sr), and even James Baker -- who is beloved by none, but is a Master of the Game of Politics -- might bring some "maturity" to the ticket, and would probably be on the short-list. And how about Bob Dole? Would the erectile disfunction commercial automatically disqualify him? Imagine a Vice President married to a sitting Senator, albeit one nicknamed "Sugarlips."

More interesting is if the President went the Centrist route. Interesting, but highly unlikely. Still, lets say he does. Colin Powell would be the likely choice in that gambit. He is a "twofer," meaning, he is African-American, and can regain lost Republican footing after Katrina, as well as he is a well-respected Centrist, pragmatist and technocrat. He is like McCain, but more predictable. Powell has a lot to prove, as well. His legacy was tarnished at the UN and, we imagine, that keeps him up at nights. The only problem might be getting Alma Powell on board. And getting Rumsfeld to not resign automatically (Which may not be a bad thing, all in all). But if he goes this route we would bet all our worldly possessions on Giuliani as Veep, putting New York State in play (and setting up an astonishing Rudy-versus-Hillary scenario)

Should the President, however, go the Neocon route -- Condi Rice. One: She's a twofer, like Powell; two, she's ultra-loyal, and 3) She's a Neocon, and would cement his legacy among that Krautenhammer Gang. The question is: Is that a crowd -- all intellectual and Harvardish -- that he feels prepared to leave his "Western, folksy Presidential" legacy to preserve? Is he prepared to be the "Straussian President," Philosopher-King? Drawbacks: Condi has no constituency and has never been elected to office and -- in this age of the blogs -- her sexuality, unfortunately, will come center stage.

Our guess: If it happens, it goes to Giuliani. Possibly James Baker, Hailey Barbour, or --long shot -- Colin Powell.

Arianna on Judith Miller



(image via americanpolitics/arianna)

Arianna Huffington plays hardball, we all know that. Today she throws down on Judith Miller, pimp-style:

"Sources close to New York Times public editor Barney Calame tell me that he is doing some 'very vigorous reporting within the paper' for his upcoming column about the Judy Miller stories that appeared on Sunday (The New York Observer has been doing some great reporting on this too).

"I have been reexamining the stories myself, like a Talmudic scholar inspecting each word of the ancient text looking for hidden meanings. I have yet to find the illumination I seek. But I have accumulated a growing collection of random thoughts and even more unanswered questions.
Here are a few of them, along with the excerpts that inspired them:

�...'Every day, she checked outdated copies of The Times for a news article about her case. Most days she was disappointed.'

"Just like Times readers check the paper every day for articles that will finally tell the truth about Miller�s and the Times� role in Plamegate. And every day -- including this past Sunday -- they are disappointed."

More here.

A Little of the Old In and Out



Ironman powerdrinker Anthony Haden-Guest and Sarah Dudley hoist a glass.

In: The Whitney Fall Gala. Chloe Sevigny showed up, so did -- according to the pictures -- Helen Gurley Brown in a hot little number (Averted Gaze), Adrian Grenier and Aileen Mehle. According to our favorite social chronicler, David Patrick Columbia in NYSocialDiary:

"The Whitney Museum of American Art held its annual fall gala last night and as it always is, it was an artist�s showstopper. The party and the After-Party (mainly for the much younger set and a few of us perpetual hanger-onners) were designed by artist Richard Tuttle whose first full-scale retrospective of his nearly forty year career will be on view at the museum from November 10th through February 5, 2006.

"The theme of this year�s gala was �Art Into Life� and the special honoree was Flora Miller Biddle who was once president of the Whitney�s board (from 1977 through 1995) and also the granddaughter of the museum�s legendary founder, Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney.

"Although her personal history is filled with such grand names in the history of American society, Flora Biddle herself is an unassuming woman of modest yet stealthy presence who steadfastly remains devoted to her grandmother�s concept and legacy. "

DPC is always fascinating. The full story here.



(image via abcnewtalent)

Out: ABC Saturday Night. You know the old saying: Saturday night is for amateurs. The pro's get blind drunk Monday through Friday and detox on the weekends. According to CNN (link via iwantmedia):

"'The state of network television on Saturday nights has become so dire that ABC has essentially put a prime-time slot up for auction to anyone who has a compelling idea -- as long as it's done very cheaply.

"ABC has put the word out to Hollywood producers that a Saturday night home is available to a program that can be made for no more than $500,000 an episode, which is about a quarter of what the traditional comedy or drama costs.

"'Because it's Saturday night, they're willing to try things that they wouldn't try at midweek,' said Jeff Bader, ABC's head of scheduling."

Swell and lovely; here goes-- are you ready: Youngish, swashbuckling, single Ugandan-born blogger/writer in Brooklyn. He gets into "hijinx." These hijinx usually involve liquor. The banter is fast and oftentimes literary. Working title: The Corsair. Call me?



(image via angelia-jolie-hot-pictures.com)

In: Angelina Jolie, Runway Model? This woman works like a West Indian. A-List actress; goodwill ambassador; doting adopted mother; the new face of St. Johns, and now -- dare we say it? -- runway model? We're not sure about this, but here goes ... According to Fashionweekdaily under the title "Rumor or Wishful Thinking":

"Get to the St. John fashion show on Thursday night extra early. A Smashbox Studios snitch told The Daily that Angelina Jolie, who just replaced Gisele Bundchen (and before her Kelly Gray) as the company�s spokesmodel, is closing the Irvine-based label�s first runway presentation."



(image via shabakatvoltaire)

Out: Judith Miller. Yo, Judith: Chill the fuck out (The Corsair pours himself a glass of grappa). Gabriel Sherman and Tom Scocca of the salmon-colored weekly write:

"'What kind of reporter are you?' Judith Miller asked Don Van Natta Jr. at the third-floor elevator bank of the New York Times Building."

Oh, it's on: It's on like Gray Poupon!

"It was Oct. 14, and Ms. Miller was meeting�and confronting�Mr. Van Natta, one of the co-workers assigned to write about her, just off the Times newsroom at the West 43rd Street headquarters. She was upset, according to a source familiar with the interchange, because Mr. Van Natta had not yet called two of her friends to discuss her case.

But Mr. Van Natta and his colleagues were grappling with the flip side of that question: What kind of reporter is Judith Miller?

"... But, in many ways, Judith Miller is still reporting her own version of the story: �I think I understand why people are upset,� she told The Observer on Tuesday, Oct. 18.

"... That is Ms. Miller�s take on the story, but it�s probably fair to say that it�s a minority take on the saga unfolding at The Times. She�s weary�fair for a reporter who spent 85 days in jail. And she�s got to be dispirited by the lack of support she�s received from querulous co-workers within a split newspaper.

"Ms. Miller said she does plan to return to the paper, after a recovery period. 'Right now, I am exhausted,' she said. 'I need to put on some weight, and I need to listen to my doctors and my lawyers. I need to chill out.'"

Jerry Hall's Impromptu Mick Jagger Roast



(image via hello!Magazine)

Well, can you blame her? We have little sympathy for this devil. You know the story. Priapic British rocker meets leggy Texan model. Rocker marries leggy Texan model. Rocker strays like a rolling stone. Model develops a discrete under-the-table kick for women who hit on her rocker husband in front of her in clubs. (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) Rocker still strays. So she divorces him, in a rather dignified manner, without taking him to the cleaners -- although she surely could have.

The consolation of it all -- aside from the hott daughters and her status as the ultimate Baby Boomer Silicon Valley billionaire arm candy -- is that Jerry Hall has earned the right to roast Sir. Mick Jagger in citric acid when the occasion merits. And she did. According to ThisisLondon:

"The 48-year-old actress and model spoke frankly of Mick Jagger's weakness for women as she hosted a fashion awards night in Monte Carlo.
Other stories:

"And as the audience - including Victoria Beckham, Mariah Carey and Prince Albert of Monaco - hooted with laughter, Miss Hall seemed to revel in a little light-hearted revenge.

"Asked on stage by her co-host Jeremy Irons whether Sir Mick might host the event with her next year, she replied: 'Are you insane? Have you seen how many models there are here? Even he couldn't afford the child support payments.'

" ...Irons persevered and Miss Hall admitted that she did like betting on 'the fillies'. She then added: 'Of course, Mick always liked betting on a lot of fillies at the same time.

"'Unfortunately, the last filly he bet on, I got to keep the house'."

Ouch. The article explains:

"Jagger fathered his seventh child, Lucas, with model Luciana Morad while married to Miss Hall, the mother of four of his children.

"After years of putting up with his unfaithfulness, the affair with Miss Morad was the last straw."

Full article here.

Using U2 For Their "Sweet Political Ass"



(image via arthouse.ru)

U2, the rock band -- against Bono's wishes -- is a political cash cow for ambitious Baby Boomer politicians, providing, in equal parts, generational chic, power and cold hard campaign cheddar. U2 presents the ultimate rock-and-politics connection -- for both parties; ironically: U2= "you too?" (Averted Gaze). We don't want to call U2 "politically slutty" because, well, we object strongly to the term "slut." (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) It strikes us as an overly judgmental call. We prefer the term ... "charitable." (A considerable pause)

Ubersexual Bono has the best intentions, of course (The Corsair pours himself a glass of 1811 Chateau D'Yquem, with "gout de terre"). Being a non-affiliated political rocker/poet is a complicated business, you see; the political breakers must be navigated with extraordinary finesse. (The Corsair sips gingerly) Being seen as overly partisan can result in negative publicity for oneself and ultimately affect one's own financial bottom line (for further instruction on the former and not the latter, see: Rolling Stones, "Sweet Neocon"). Also, being seen as overly partisan hinders one's effectiveness with the opposition party, especially if they own the three branches of government, thus negating any chance of furthering the message in the corridors of power.

A smart political player, Bono has steered clear of being overly identified with a single political party (Think: The quixotic friendship with the noxious Jesse Helms and the affable Paul O'Neill). As a result of this "political promiscuity," Bono has become -- even with the best of intentions -- something of a political slut. Everyone in DC is having a turn at his sweet political ass, getting their "jollies," so to speak. (Averted Gaze) According to Jonathan E. Kaplan of TheHill:

"The Irish rock band U2 is doing its best to disassociate itself from members of Congress�s plans to use the group�s 2005 world tour to raise money, but the band remains a political cash cow.Debt AIDs Trade Africa (DATA), an advocacy group founded by U2�s lead singer, Bono, issued a statement last week separating the band from any political activity that might take place at its concerts after some media outlets continued misreporting a story that Sen. Rick Santorum and U2 had teamed up for a $1,000-a-seat concert in Philadelphia on Sunday. The stories reported that Santorum and others were buying private skyboxes and selling the seats to donors.

�'Those are privately held boxes and nothing to do with DATA or the band. We often have no idea what [lawmakers are] doing. � This is not anything that DATA is involved in, and it�s not an issue for DATA,' said Tom Hart, the director of government affairs for Bono�s advocacy group in response to questions about lawmakers� using U2�s concerts to raise money for their reelection campaigns even though they might disagree with Bono�s policy positions."

Still, that hasn't stopped a stream of politicians of both parties from taking their liberties with Bono's sweet political piece of ass for fundraisers, including -- drumroll, please: Republican Rep. Mary Bono, Democrat Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton, Republican Sen. John Thune, Democrat Sen. Byron Dorgan and Republican Senator John Ensign, among others.

Charmed, I'm sure.

Mitch McConnell: Next Senate Majority Leader?



(image via kybiz)

The power of the South in the Republican Party -- especially in the Senate -- is astonishing. Will Kentucky Senator Mitch McConnell take over from Tennessee Senator Bill Frist (Who followed, we cannot fail to note, Mississippi Senator Trent Lott) as the next Majority Leader? That depends, of course, on sa few uncertain variables, namely: a) that the Republican Party remains a Majority Party in the Senate after 2006 midterm elections, and, b) that McConnell can steer clear of the whiffs of scandal surrounding his political apprentice, Governor Ernie Fletcher. According to TheHill:

"Mitch McConnell is waiting patiently in the Senate�s wings, but he will soon be standing in the spotlight � a fact not lost on lawmakers, lobbyists and aides.

"As fastidious in appearance and command of legislative details as he is in accumulating political capital, the Kentucky senator has been widely considered the heir to the Republican leader�s post since 2003, when self-term-limited Majority Leader Bill Frist (Tenn.) took the helm and McConnell settled into the No. 2 job of whip.

"Frist is slated to retire from the Senate in January 2007. He is beset by twin federal probes into his sale of stock in a company founded by his brother and late father.

"Frist�s impending departure and the questions raised by the probes have elevated McConnell�s stature.

�'There are definitely people out there who have woken up and realized that Mitch McConnell is going to be the next leader of the U.S. Senate,' one member of McConnell�s inner circle said."

The full story here.

A Little of the Old In and Out



Magolia Pictures' Eamonn Bowles with Magnolia/Landmark CEO Bill Banowsky. (image via indiewire/Brian Brooks)

In: Bill Banowsky, CEO, Magnolia Pictures. There's a new distribution model in the world of film, and it comes through the appropriately named: Landmark. Nicole Sperling of the Hollywood Reporter writes of it, "Using 2929's Landmark Theater chain and marketing and distribution resources from Landmark and 2929's Magnolia Pictures, Truly Indie will provide filmmakers with a self-funded distribution operation whereby filmmakers pay a flat fee for one week of theatrical distribution across Landmark's indie theater network while retaining complete control of all rights to the product."Swwet. According to Indiewire:

"'This is a new distribution company,' explained Bill Banowsky, the CEO of Magnolia Pictures and Landmark who is running the new 2929 Entertainment initiative, in a conversation with indieWIRE Monday. 'We are creating a new distribution company called Truly Indie, it is completely outside of Landmark, but it has a relationship with Landmark and other theaters.'

"Filmmakers can pay as little as $40,000 for a one week placement in five markets or as much as $150,000 for a week-long theatrical run in 20 markets, according to Banowsky. In most markets, the local Landmark theater will serve as the venue for the release, but in the case of New York, Truly Indie will work with the Quad Cinema because of the competitiveness of advance bookings at its Sunshine Cinema in Manhattan. Truly Indie releases can take place via digital distribution as part of the digital upgrade at Landmark that will launch early next year, or filmmakers can provide film prints for their week-long runs."

So there.



Like a deer in the headlinghts? (image via ananova)

Out: Mariah Carey's Secret Admirer. While, yes, Mariah Carey is not without a certain curvilicious one-night shag appeal (The Corsair sparks up a Montecristo Platinum), she also has more baggage, quite frankly (The Corsair Exhales), than Louis Vuitton.

(A considerable silence) Mariah needs guidance, not a boyfriend. Who in their right minds would want to take on a long term project like this? Someone mysterious in Monaco, that's who -- according to the 3AM Girls:

"The curvy 35-year-old was sent a diamond ring and matching bracelet at the Hotel de Paris ahead of the Monaco show. And staff there were run off their feet finding vases for the enormous bouquets of flowers the singer was receiving.

"A source told us: 'Mariah was so excited with the diamonds she wore them for her gig on Monday. The guy is definitely after a date and with all the effort he's been to who knows what might happen?'"

Dishes thrown at terminal velocity, eight-octave range high pitched screaming, midriff-baring baby clothes with butterflies on them ... that sort of thing.

The full story here.



(image via milkeninstitute)

In: Lunch With Rupert Murdoch. If a wealthy Corsair reader has a spare, oh, 25 large -- and wants to get on our good side (three-quarter profile left), this would be a wonderful holiday gift to yours truly. From Owen Gibson of The Guardian:

"Given his fortune, his global media empire and his clout with politicians you wouldn't expect to find Rupert Murdoch appealing for dining companions on the internet.

"But the media mogul, who owns a string of interests from the Times and the Sun in the UK, to Fox and the New York Post in the US as well as broadcasting enterprises in Asia and Latin America, is using auction site eBay to do just that.

"Dining with the News Corporation chairman does not come cheap, however. The charity auction, in aid of the Jerusalem College of Technology, has a reserve price of $25,000 (�14,000).

"The winning bidder will be treated to lunch with four friends in the company's New York boardroom."

Aww ... not me and Rupe at the legendary 9300-foot loft space where Russell Crowe ate barbecue?

Usher: In Need of "Correction"



(image via awwbn)

The venerable Page Six ran an item that kind of freaked us the fuck out. It involved Usher, Freakshow. Namely:

"DEVON Aoki brought out the shameless flirt in Usher at Mr. Chow in Beverly Hills the other night. 'My God, you are so beautiful,' the R&B romeo told the Benihana heiress-turned-actress before chatting her up for the rest of the night, much to the chagrin of her annoyed boyfriend. "

This, after "Ush" complained that he was "bored" with punchy supermodel Naomi Campbell (How does that happen? She contains multitudes).

This is not the first time Usher has stooped to conquer another man's lover. Allegedly (via Popbitch), Ush stole Xzibit's ex-fiance, Eisha Brightwell after his sexuality was questioned. Ush breaks, of course, The Code of Manliness, namely, one does not steal another man's domestic partner in front of his face. Should one be burdened with "excessive manly ardor," one simply waits until the man takes a bathroom break, or -- and we do not recommend this -- one simply waits until the competitor gets drinks to make the move.

We recommend, for Usher, who is clearly veering into the dangerous world of unruliness (a case of fame to early?), the judicious application of a robust ass-whipping. Ass-whippings are, on the whole, therapeutic affairs; they put things all into perspective -- and Ush, clearly, is in need of some "correction."