Thursday, June 03, 2004

A Little of the Old In and Out

In: Childhood sexual fantasies. They are very dark indeed, sepia-dark, with wine colored interiors and tangled. So very tangled. Apparently, Janet Jackson (who so ably played "Cleo" on the hit tv series "Fame" ... thank you, thank you; please bring this show back in reruns VH1) -- Our Janet had childhood fantasies of the disgusting kind, according to The Sixers. And, one would imagine, Jackson family childhood desires are considerably darker than the common man's:

"BREAST-barer Janet Jackson had a very active libido at a very young age. The songstress admits to early crushes on both Barry Manilow and R&B lothario Teddy Pendergrass, who starred in her early sexual fantasies. 'My mother would come into my room and say, Janet, why are you being so lazy?' Jackson tells Blender magazine. 'What she didn't know was that I was having a very sexual moment with Teddy, in my mind.'"

The Corsair dry heaves violently, rolled up in the fetal position, mouthing the word: Why. Can you think of two more dodgy characters on the margins of sonic propriety other than Teddy Pendergrass, with the jheri curl, (averted gaze) and, the affable, if very "Poconos" Barry Manilow, what, with the strung out blonde hair and the big shnoz? Oh, sweet Melissa: I mean, why stop there: what about Phil Bailey (who so ably recorded "Easy Lover" with Phil Collins, thank you ... thank you)

And while we are in a confessional mood, dear reader, I want to admit to an indiscretion of the mind, shall we say, committed --with gusto, I might add -- with marginal R a& B talent Evelyn "Champagne" King in the early 80s. She made the song "Ooh You Make My Love Come Down," you know. The fantasy involved my fevered pre-adolescent mind and a sundry half empty bottle of Riunite on ice ... so nice. And I'm not even going to get into my Sheena Easton "Sugar Walls" fantasies. The Corsair won't go there.

Out: According to Page Six, Madonna has instituted a "cursing fine":

"THE times they have a changed! Madonna, once known for her lewd behavior as well as her lewd language, has imposed a 'cursing fine' on everyone in her tour, including dancers and roadies. 'Every time someone curses, they have to pay a fine,' said an insider. Liz Rosenberg, Madonna's rep, said: 'That is correct �? and by the way, she has paid plenty [herself]. I think it is $5 a curse word.' Madonna was caught several weeks ago shrieking at her dancers: 'Get it right or get the [bleep] out!' �? just before she donated to the cursing can.'

What the f@*k?!

(The Corsair quietly deposits a wooden nickel into the cursing can)

Out: Fred Durst. The man is creepy to celebrity women; creepy. First there was that very public wooing of Angelina Jolie, on Access Hollywood, no less; then he told Howard Stern that he had sex with Britney after writing her some fucking poetry (The Corsair shivers). Now, according to Rolling Stone via Ananova:

"Avril Lavigne has revealed how Fred Durst tried to woo her by buying her a huge box of hamburgers and chips after she told him she was hungry.

"The 19-year-old Canadian says the Limp Bizkit frontman seemed 'a little pi**ed' when she rebuffed his romantic advances.

"She told Rolling Stone the pair met backstage at a Metallica concert.

"She said: 'I mentioned to Fred that I was hungry, like, I want an In-N-Out burger.

"'He had someone go out and get me a whole box of them, with fries. I was like, Yeah!.

"'Then he took a private jet out to one of my shows, expecting me to bang him. He was disappointed that I wouldn't even go near him.

"'He was a little pi**ed that I went to my room alone that night.'"

First off: Hey Avril, watch those carbs.

And, Fred, let me explain something to you: Avril wanted an In-N-Out BURGER, not ... uhm, In-N-Out ... I'm going to go on to the next category now, thank you.

In: Mel Karmazin to Disney? Cue to the Survivor song The Search is Over. I speculated this might happen yesterday (The Corsair pats himself on the back). It is a logical fit and the media industry is hugely logical in its calculations. Again, those dazzling Sixers give us the pipin hot scoop:

"... The buzz is that the Disney despot plans to step down at the end of the summer and that he's handpicked former Viacom president Mel Karmazin as his successor. The Post reported yesterday that Karmazin has been eyeing the job.

"'Eisner trusts Mel,' says one of our sources. 'They've been talking about him taking over.'"

Out: George Tenet:

"'I will miss him,' Bush said."

(The Corsair motions for a cadenza of weepy violins)

"Tenet, 51, came to the White House to inform Bush about his decision Wednesday night. 'He told me he was resigning for personal reasons,' Bush said. 'I told him I'm sorry he's leaving. He's done a superb job on behalf of the American people.'"

The Corsair coughs *Chalabi*

"Tenet will serve until mid-July. Bush said that deputy John McLaughlin will temporarily lead America's premier spy agency until a successor is found. Among possible successors is House Intelligence Committee Chairman Porter Goss, R-Fla., a former CIA agent and (John) McLaughlin."

In: Shavar Ross, the kid who played Dudley in that "very special" Diffr'nt Strokes. You know, the kid who was "touched." No word yet on The Gooch or the cast of the late 70s PBS show "High Feather."

Out: The Frist-Daschle feud. According to Geoff Earle of

"Tensions between Senate Republican and Democratic leaders have surprisingly abated in recent weeks after a series of high-profile compromises.

"The relationship between Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist (R-Tenn.) and Minority Leader Tom Daschle (D-S.D.) soured after Frist committed to attending a campaign rally in South Dakota for former Rep. John Thune (R-S.D.). The race between Daschle and Thune this fall is expected to be tight."

Apparently, the frost is having a thaw; cicadas and the scent of cherry blossoms are in the air on The Hill ... and, most importantly, "l'amour":

"The first breakthrough came last month, when Daschle and Frist reached a deal to move 25 judicial nominees. The powerful lawmakers secured a deal so that President Bush�?s noncontroversial judicial appointments would be confirmed while Democrats retained their right to filibuster a handful of other nominees left out of the agreement.

"A separate leadership pact to clear a batch of executive nominees followed suit."

(The Corsair plays dramatic romantic music, Monteverdi, for Daschle and Frist)

"Senate Democrats also allowed a major highway bill to proceed to a conference committee with the House, after receiving assurances from Frist that they would be included in the negotiations. Democrats had been blocking legislation from reaching conference to protest being shut out, infuriating Republicans."

(The Corsair dims the lights for Frist and Daschle)

"The latest sign of bipartisan cooperation came when Frist decided to cancel a scheduled cloture vote on a controversial class-action-reform bill. Republicans apparently have won over some key Democratic converts, finally reaching the crucial 60-vote threshold on the issue."

That article concludes with the sweet note:

"Frist and Daschle held at least one face-to-face meeting Tuesday, a possible sign that Frist is tempering his habit of communicating through his BlackBerry device.

"Daschle told reporters he holds out hope for action on a stalled asbestos bill and energy legislation, although he said there weren't great prospects for success on the class-action bill."

Love is putting aside the BlackBerry for a face-to-face. The Blacker the Berry the sweeter the juice!

okay, that was not my most inspired line; but I couldn't figure out where I was going at the end.

In: Ass kissing, but, in the world of high fashion, where beauty and backstabbing are the premium, it never goes out of style. Carolina Herrerra, whom I am somewhat embarrassed to say I find oddly attractive, in a jet-set heiress kind of way, even though, she is, like, quite a bit older than me, kisses ass magnificently on Fashionweekdaily:

"Who do you admire in the industry?

"I have a great admiration for John Fairchild and, following in his footsteps, Patrick McCarthy. I admire Suzy Menkes, who I think writes fantastically well. She has a lot of knowledge about fashion and writes about it in a wonderful way. And of course, Anna Wintour. I admire her personal looks, not to mention her abilities as an editor."

How vaguely politic and dreadfully jolting Carolina, that you, a designer, admire fashion writers and editors that are important to your career? I still think she's hot, though, just a touch aristocratically duplicitous.

Out: Hammy actors. Le fucking jambon already, okay? Hello: The folks at the blog ran this blind item:

"You all know him as a former master thespian who's as famous as he is pretentious. But to your dear Dolly (not to mention to the actor's coworkers) he's an insecure, hammy, royal pain in the butt. Just ask that Oscar-level director what happened when he quietly informed his prickly star that an emotionally juicy scene they had been scheduled to shoot needed to be completely rethought. Saying that Mr. Method Actor went off the deep end would be too gentle. He bellowed, yowled, punched the air, kicked furniture and pitched such a major meltdown that his histrionics spread onto the soundstage, where crew members practically had to restrain him from throttling his director. Too bad cameras weren't turning while the actor gave his greatest performance in ages."


The comments on the board after the story are weighted towards Anthony Hopkins, but I'm not so sure. Thoughts?

In: Okay, when I am not working sensible, flexible hours at the job, when I am not blogging, when I am not imbibing The Sark at the local tavern, I have been reading Simon Publications paperback reissue of Carl Van Doren's bio Benjamin Franklin, which is, so choice, I highly recommend it.

I can't put it down. Some of the best lines:

"But the wind abaiting the next day, we made a shift to reach Amboy before night, having been thirty hours on the water, without any victuals or drink but a bottle of filthy rum, and the water we sailed on being salt."

And this chestnut:

"An old woman in the town, of whom I bought gingerbread to eat on the water ... invited me to lodge at her house ... she was very hospitable, gave me a dinner of ox-cheek with great good will, accepting only a pot of ale in return."

And so Franklin, belly full of gingerbread and ox-cheek rambles through American history, mostly drunk, and chronicled, excellently, by Carl Van Doren. Ben Franklin comes off like Encolpius in Petronius' Satyricon. This book is so hott.

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