Wednesday, July 21, 2004

A Little of The Old In and Out  

In: Target's Brooklyn Outpost Opening Party, at least as described by a rosy cheeked Gawker reader. Was it the Roman historian Sallust who said, in the brilliant Conspiracy of Catiline (a history of corruption in the Roman Empire of the 1st Century AD), that the words must fit the event described? If so, then the surreal flow of prose immediately below, should match precisely the oddness of Target's opening a outpost in the BK:

"Men in red eyeshadow and girls with Robert Smith hair -- they've never been to Atlantic Center! I'm not fooled -- and doing shots of tequila? That's not going to work out in the end. And then what I was more ashamed of myself was how sad I was that in two weeks, once this joint is open to masses of brooklyn trash who make Pathmark unusable, I will never again be able to admire the rows and rows of blue greeting cards and purchase them with matching envelopes or peruse the aisles of Gatorade without witnessing parents beat their children in the middle and the dirty sick part of me just wants Target to stay exactly like it was last night."

It is the dirty sick parts in which this blog is concerned. As you will soon see ... 

Out:  Chris Rock's recipe for crack. A very special Corsair, where funnyman Chris Rock talks to Jenna Jameson and Court Love's pal, Neil Strauss about proper lactose levels when making your own "crack rock".  His worst career move since playing "Nat X" on SNL.

In: The Jackasses. These cats are having a hell of a good time in the limelight, all told, true believers. According to The Star, that significant cultural artifact:

"Though (Johnny Knoxville's) still married to his wife of seven years, Melanie (with whom he has a daughter, Madison, 6) he too loves to party (Ed. Note: no shit) . 'Just like on the show, he's incredibly spontaneous and funny,' says a source close to Knoxville. 'It's just what Kate needs after the split.' The two were reportedly spotted in New York on June 17 having lunch and then later that night were caught fondling at the trendy rockers Franz Ferdinand concert at Webster Hall. Then on July 1, the two were reportedly spied canoodling at a pub in North London. 'She spent the whole evening all over Johnny,' a source reported. A pal of Knoxville told Star: 'Johnny and Kate are very, very, very close friends. But yes, he's still married.'"

And, what's more, British Vogue reports:

"SEEMS that a Jackass face is the latest supermodel accessory. Kate Moss' friendship with the sexy star of the show, Johnny Knoxville, has been well documented and now May Anderson has taken her example. The sultry catwalker was spotted strolling hand-in-hand with Knoxville's sidekick, Steve-O, in New York this week. Apparently roller skating backwards off cliffs and falling out of supermarket trolleys is the way to get the girl ..."

Just last week, I was out with a sophisticated woman who extolled the virtues of the Jackass crew against a barrage of my derision; she sustained the argument all through lunch. Women like risk takers, I suppose, and these guys represent that; although it's hard for me to fathom through all the playa hating. If anyone can explain this phenomenon to me, I'm at Until then, I'll console myself with the notion that these guys don't do yoga every day and keep a dream journal like I do. So there.

Out: The Smoking Gun publishes what may be one of the strangest stories ever, and that, for SmokingGun, is quite a feat indeed:

"A Florida man assaulted his girlfriend with a three-foot alligator during a domestic dispute Friday morning, according to cops. David Havennar, 41, was charged with battery for smacking girlfriend Nancy Monico in the ribs with the gator, who lived in a bathtub in Havennar's Port Orange home, according to the below Volusia County Sheriff's Office report. Monico told deputies that she did not know why Havennar had an alligator in his bathtub, but claimed her beau was 'torturing' the reptile. However, an examination of the reptile--which was seized by state wildlife officials--showed no signs of abuse. Monico, on the other hand, suffered minor injuries to her lip, legs, and back area, according to investigators. For his part, Havennar claimed that Monico started the 9 AM dustup when she 'bit him on the hand because she was mad about being out of alcohol.'"

The rough patches of any relationship can be lubricated, I suppose, with a lusty sip of the old "Budweiser." But, The Corsair imagines, Monico probably didn't "cook up the possum and fixins" to his liking. Monico might even possibly have been "messing with his crank,"  meriting the lamentable minor injuries to the "back area," so skillfully described in the police report. And, of course, the coup de grace, in his mugshot, this paragon of manliness is not even wearing a shirt. Like Shaq's biological: He didn't bother. Domestic violence, pet reptiles, argumenst over domestic beer, unselfconscious shirtlessness -- you see where I'm going with this: Can you guess this man's socioeconomic class?

Only in Florida, kiddies, only in Florida.

In: The New York Observer. The salmon colored weekly, every once in a while, turns in a chestnut, gets it right, makes us proud to be in (The Corsair traces invisible ironic quotation marks into thin air) "the media". This is one such a moment (link via Gawkie poo). Observe, as the intrepid Observer staff catch our specimen, a rara avis, one P Diddy, in mid-hustle:

"Sean (P. Diddy) Combs is not known for being at a loss for words.

"But the hip-hop impresario was speechless for several seconds when The Transom asked him about his own voting record at a press conference on Tuesday morning to introduce Citizen Change, the voter-registration task force that he founded. Asked about the last time he�d voted, Mr. Combs, wearing sunglasses and a dark sports jacket over a 'Vote or Die' T-shirt, confessed that he last entered a voting booth and pulled the lever in 2000. Mr. Combs stood at a podium in Kimmel Auditorium at N.Y.U., surrounded by red-white-and-blue balloons in front of an audience that half-expected him to launch his own run for office.

"When queried whether he voted in city elections, Mr. Combs said, 'No.' An awkward silence ensued; the microphone squealed. Could he elaborate on why? 'To be honest, I�m just�I was just as disenfranchised as the younger disenfranchised voters,' he stammered, before the smooth-talking salesman kicked in. 'It�s just recently, in 2000, that I started to educate myself and understand the way the system works. So that�s what makes this thing so much more relevant, because I�m not talking from the outside. I understand a lot about how young people feel and how minorities feel; we feel that the system doesn�t work. But I can�t just sit back and complain about it, you know�I can do something about it. So I don�t have a long-lasting record history of voting, but I do have a long-lasting record of communicating and motivating and energizing and synergizing young people and, you know, I�m just like them. You know, I didn�t believe in the process, so I can explain to young people why they should get motivated with this.' The applause was thunderous. "

The Corsair quietly sips pimp juice from an "icy" custom made pimp goblet.

"'Now wasn�t that a good answer!?' shouted a member of the Citizen Change posse, a group that includes political bulldog James Carville, who showed up in a sport coat, pink shirt and green plaid tie to fulfill his duties as chairman. ('He didn�t take no paper because he knows we ain�t got no money,' Mr. Combs had said earlier. 'He was so nice to donate his time.')

The bullshit-hustle continues here at Wagnerian length. And yet you can't stop reading.  

Out: Giorgio Armani is on the outs with the Old Gray Lady; he's got his panties in a twist, according to British Vogue, chill Giorgio:

"GIORGIO ARMANI has pulled all future ads from the New York Times after its somewhat negative review of his spring/summer 2005 menswear collection. Famous for previously refusing to advertise in US Vogue because, he claimed, it did not give him enough editorial support, the designer first reacted to the show report by taking out a full-page spread to highlight his more flattering reviews. And he is now refusing to advertise again until further notice. 'It is correct that the Armani Group has removed the New York Times newspaper (not the New York Times Magazine) from its advertising plan,' a spokesperson for the company told The Daily. 'This decision has been taken as a result of the existence of a persistent and significant philosophical difference with the newspaper's fashion desk. We have no other comment to make at this time.' The review, which appeared in the July 4 issue of the paper, read as follows: 'The creative possibilities of Italian fashion were once clearly synonymous with the name of Giorgio Armani. When exactly, one wonders, did that stop being the case? It is not so much that talk about corporate succession has damaged the image as the designer approaches 70. It is not that people have forgotten Mr Armani's profound contributions to fashion design. It is that shows like the one Mr Armani presented this week seem errant, confounding and stuck in a vision of an unrecognisable world.'"

That Guy Trebay (The Corsair softly chuckles), causing all sorts of ruckus and hullaballoo (Averted Gaze)

In:  Tony Brown. Have you ever seen our favorite African-American "self-help" Republican show Tony Bown's Journal on PBS? The show was decidedly low rent, but informative, sort of like a tv version of Jet Magazine without the class; I learned about George Washington Carver's little --ahem -- "innovations on the theme of almonds" on this program . 

Tony Brown's Journal definitely had a sort of X-File-ish vibe of conspiracy about it; whiffs of schizophrenia, really; as a kid this show kind of freaked me out. If you haven't seen Tony Brown's Journal, you missed out on hard-hitting discussions on lead poisoning, hypertension, the possible consequences of the the Y2K computer bug, and the use of Malathion to combat an outbreak of mosquito-borne encephalitis. You see where I'm going with this. Let's just say that the show is a little "eccentric," even "odd." And let's leave it at that, so that in my memories, when I look backward, the show has a warm, kind patina to it. 

Anyhoo: Tony Brown, apparently, will be the new Dean (link via Romenesko) of Hampton University's Scripps Howard School of Journalism and Communications.  Far out, Tony Brown's School Days.

True story: I saw Tony Brown at a fast food Chinese restaurant in Manhattan roughly five years ago. He had the General Tso's chicken, I believe. He was wearing earth tone short pants and his legs were in dire need of cocoa butter. My childhood image of him was shattered.

Out: According to the excellent Rush and Molloy (5th Item), Michael Moore is defending Linda Ronstadt in her fracas, going so far as offering to sing for his supper:

"'Fahrenheit 9/11' filmmaker Michael Moore is aflame after hearing that Las Vegas' Aladdin Hotel & Casino ejected Linda Ronstadt. As we told you yesterday, Aladdin security showed the singer the door when she hailed Moore as her 'Desperado.'

"Blasting the move as 'stupid and un-American,' Moore told the Aladdin president in a letter: 'Invite her back and I'll join her in singing 'America the Beautiful' on your stage."

Oh, dear lord, please don't, Michael. You are a talented filmmaker, let's leave it at that.

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