Saturday, April 30, 2005

Harvey Keitel: "I Sit ... On Fire"


Above: He wouldn't be amused at a funny caption. (image via Michaelnyman)

Harvey Keitel is one plenty intense motherfucker, let me tell you. (The Corsair down a martini) He looks like he possesses an abundance of "the rib busting ox-strength." The Corsair wouldn't want to rub shoulders with him. *The Corsair shudders* Lorraine Bracco, BTW, dated both Keitel and Edward James Olmos? (Then played the infatuation and psychiatrist of a brutal mob boss and a Goodfella's wife) Who likes the dark energy?

Maybe the following will explain why Harvey Keitel wears such an "I'll-eat-your-face" expression so firmly affixed to his puss all the time. Like Harvey's about ready to backhand someone. It's uncanny. According to The Independent:

"Keitel has served his time in therapy and says that it was beneficial, but now his self-exploration has moved on to another plane. 'I'm beginning to have a better time because I'm learning the discipline of Sitting, with a capital S. It has brought me into a relationship with the self that I've been seeking. It's fierce, this place, by the way.

"'A friend asked me once, Harvey, are you a Buddhist?. I said, I Sit. He said, You Sit? in a sarcastic tone. If you meditate, aren't you supposed to be at peace with yourself? If you Sit, why are you so intense all the time? I replied once again, I Sit... on fire. You know, I'm very excited about Sitting,'" he adds."

WTF?! (The Corsair "bolts")
A Little of the Old In and Out


In: Razor Magazine. Regardless of what that gutless coward Larry Dobrow says (Averted Gaze), check out the latest issue of Razor Magazine. Aside from the Pam Anderson cover story, "39 Mavericks 2005," an in-depth story on Howard Dean as the new DNC Chair and where he's leading the Democrats, there is also The Corsair's hugely subjective, wild ride "Top 10 List," of which:

"A top 10 celebrity list of hot women is a complicated enterprise to pull off. (The Corsair sparks up a full-bodied Partagas Black cigar) So many of the same names appear on every list. Generally, the journey begins with Lindsay and ends, sweatily, in Paris. (The Corsair draws slowly on cigar) We'd rather not end up in Paris, or Brittny, or any such Old World sounding terrain. New World's becon ... Shall we begin?"


Out: Richard Rodriguez to helm King Conan. Rodriguez has an innovative sense of screen design, and a solid sense of where he wants to take the tough guy genre, but we're not exactly sure the ID-driven (Without the mitigating sense of noir) "King Conan" is the right project for him. Conan is 80s monosyllabic and one-dimensional. Great special effects won't make him an interesting character. This latest comic book movie just doesn't -- as of yet -- inspire us to salivate; anyway, from Moviehole:

"Mr Film Fantastic, Robert Rodriguez, looks set to helm the next 'Conan' sequel. The Arnold Fans has discovered that John Milius, who has been trying to get a third 'Conan' film off the ground for longer than gas has fuelled cars, has been given his walking papers - and that Rodriguez, currently spinning a lot of bank with 'Sin City,' is the Barbarian's new pop.

"'John Milius had a 5 year contract to be on the WB lot, however, after WB gave Conan away to Rodriguez, they decided they did not need Milius and kicked him off the lot without renewing his contract,' says the site. Milius had been working on 'King Conan' - which tells the story of the Barbarian and his son - for quite a while. It's believed he recently talked to wrestler Triple-H about filling Arnold Schwarzenneger's shoes, upon discovering Arnold's too busy playing Governor.

"It's not known whether Rodriguez plans on using Milius' idea for 'King Conan' or whether he's going to start afresh, and whether he's going to try and coax Arnold Schwarzenegger back to the role of Conan or take on Milius' idea of bringing in Triple-H. We shall see."

Yea, verily ... (Raises a glass of mead; places it back down; Averted Gaze).


Above: Rosie O "emotes" with "coltish beauty," the frosty Texas-born Andy McDowell. Emilio Estevez is still "punching the air in triumph."

In: The Other Sister, Rosie O Plays "Developmentally Disabled." "Is her lumpy form in a Tweety Bird T-shirt depressing? Is her nascent sexuality hard to contemplate? You must have no heart. And you will have to come around to her innocent wonders." So asks Virginia Hefferman in the NYTimes. First Alessandra Stanley applies the lash to Katie Courik's juicy, unblemished gams, and now this!

The Corsair didn't really want to bring this low-grade-piece-of-ass "Hallmark" special up, because, well -- it's, like, (sotto voce) extremely un-PC. Extremely. But, Lindsayism did, so -- oh well, blame her:

"I opened my Entertainment Weekly last week and was delighted beyond words to see an ad for a new TV movie starring Rosie O'Donnell clearly in the role of a mentally handicapped adult (you know, because she has a vacant look on her face and her shoes don't match, just like all developmentally disabled adults!):The movie is called 'Riding On the Bus With My Sister,' and it will air on CBS on Sunday, and if you think I haven't already set my DVR, you're, uh, retarded."

It's not that The Corsair would ever laugh at the "developmentally disabled" (We wouldn't) ... it's just Rosie's involvement ... Rosie the aggro-blogger sporting the telltale "shortpants," (The Corsair softly chuckles) "the happy pastel colors," Rosie engaging in "the circular bus rides," (that, no doubt, charm and bewitch the untaxed minds of the Hallmark special simulated townspeople) and, invariably, the telltale "elsewhere smile" stretches across her face; it is all so ... goddamned ... fire. May The Corsair suggest an Enny for casting?

Virginia Hefferman continues, heartlessly, but not without mirth, in the Old Gray Lady:

"If you're going to even think about watching 'Riding the Bus With My Sister,' which appears Sunday on CBS, you're going to have to know what it's about. And once you find out, instantly, you're going to form a heartless first impression.

"But if you read on, you'll have to suspend that first impression, and warm to the subject, and even then, in the end, I might ultimately tell you that your first impression is right and that this is a profoundly embarrassing movie.

"Ready? 'Riding the Bus With My Sister' is about a developmentally disabled woman played by Rosie O'Donnell. That's right: As Beth, Ms. O'Donnell dresses in wacky childish clothes and talks in a volume-inappropriate way and wears mismatched shoes and rides a hilarious bus around and around with her motley bus family. She annoys and enlightens the people she meets. And at times she shouts, in a voice you can probably imagine, 'I am a person!'"

Goddamn, Virginia, we are so there.

Out: The Ultraviolent 50 Cent Video Game. The Corsair doesn't get it. We hatehatehate ultraviolent video games; we always have been against them and what they do to the already attention-deficit kids of the Y Generation (Xtreme sports, anyone? Three minute videos instead of a 300 page novel?).

These video games are going to have a bad effect -- IMHO -- on the weak-minded (not everyone, mind you, only the weak minded) who play this game. IMHO. So, after turning downtown into a shooting gallery earlier this year, Fitty releases an ultraviolent video game, with its own trailer (For MTV), where he/you can blow people away in slow-mo with 12-gage shotguns and crack heads against counter-tops "Pesci-style" to the soundtrack of Fitty?!

Ed Bradley's brilliant open ended 60 Minutes piece. IMHO.

In: Don't Look Mariah Carey in the Eyes. Of course, another day, another interview in which Mariah unravels -- no pun intended -- her vida loca. To wit, from contactmusic:

"MARIAH CAREY and ex-husband TOMMY MOTTOLA underwent counseling in a bid to save their marriage, but the pop star is convinced the former SONY boss only agreed to the sessions to 'get into my head.'

That's, actually, a Pandora's box left firmly shut.

"The singer reveals her former husband agreed to counselling sessions when she told him she felt stifled in their relationship.

"She says, 'They did nothing for me because I couldn't talk about myself and my own issues from childhood. It was all just a tool to get into my head.'"

One might say that this prolonged, charm-braceleted childhood is Mariah's problem. That, and high-velocity dish slinging.

"Carey admits her home life was hell because she felt all the staff she and Mottola employed hated her. She found out later that her ex had told them all not to look the mistress of the house directly in the eyes."

Come on, a Tommy Mottolla employee disgruntled? Noo..

"She adds, 'It was like, every time I came around, somehow everyone was about their business.
"It wasn't until I left, that I found out that they were told not to look me in the eye.'"


Above: Iron-man-Drinking-Champion Nick Nolte generously adjusts Bai Ling's "decolettage" at the Tribeca screening of "Beautiful Copuntry"

Friday, April 29, 2005

Mariah Carey on Broadway?


Above: Blousy ingenue Maria Carey and her "'T' for Two" Go: Broadway. (image via ananova)
Mariah Carey is kind of like Michael Jackson in that she projects this curious media image of one who never wants to grow up. That, and they're both complected not unlike Mary Jane candies. (Exagerated cough suggesting feigned detachment)

But I digress. It's always about the butterflies and charm bracelets and bared-midriffs a la a 12 years old girl at camp. She even believes in Santa. Now, Mariah presents, in her self-described 7 octave range -- the joy of Christmas. (Averted Gaze) According to Ananova:

"Mariah Carey is planning to turn her 1994 Merry Christmas album into a Broadway musical.

"The 35-year-old singer is writing a story based around the songs plus two new songs she is planning to write, reports MTV.

"Carey said: 'I'm such a festive person, and I love Christmas. I'm so over the top with it that this is a bit much, but it's perfect for me.

"'I get a chance to live out my Christmastime fantasies vicariously through the show. I think it's going to be fun and something families can go to see.'"

There's something ... very ... scary about Mariah Carey sometimes. And not just when the glasses and dishes start going "airborne." Like she's walking some invisible line and at any moment the 7-octaves will spring forth, unasked for and unending, accompanied with flying shards of Christmas ornaments and oodles and oodles of "glitter." "Christmastime fantasies," indeed. (Exagerated cough suggesting feigned detachment)
A Little of the Old In and Out


Above: "A poised, creamy insincerity" (image via MSN)

In: Diane Sawyer, Living the Perfect Life. "Poised, creamy insincerity" notwithstanding, Diane Sawyer's pimphand is strong. (The Corsair ruefully rubs his cheek, the recent victim of an unprovoked Sawyer backhanded bitchsmack)

These, however, have not been the best of times for The Today Show. The ratings of their "arch competitors," Good Morning America, are surging. Alessandra Stanley damned Katie's shapely gams in the pages of The Old Gray Lady. The blog thing didn't fly. GMA's ambitious bookers are booking all the most important "gets." Fortuna smiles lovingly over Diana Sawyer, lavishing upon her a fabulously successful and intellectually respected husband, and now, the distinction as being The Lady Who Stopped the Today Show Juggernaut. And now, according to those bewitching Page Sixxies:

"Meanwhile, over at ... 'Good Morning America,' Robin Roberts is about to be named a co-host along with Diane Sawyer and Charlie Gibson. And it looks like 'GMA' may have another ratings-winning installment coming up.

"While 'Today' staffers are filming in Las Vegas this week at Steve Wynn's new hotel, Sawyer and 'GMA' producers are in Africa with Brad Pitt.

"'No one could believe their good luck,' said our insider. 'GMA went to Africa to interview Brad about his charity work and AIDS relief efforts and he brought along Angelina Jolie -- and there are no publicists around. Who knows what they are going to get, but either way, it will be Brad's first interview since his split from Jennifer Aniston and it's going to be good.'"

What luck. It almost makes us want to forget the whole Diana serving the extremely salty Chili to her associate producers for an unfortunate 20/20 story on sycophancy. Almost.

Out: Larry Dobrow. Come on, Larry Dobrow. Come online and play. It's no fun slapping you around if you don't fight back. Don't be a little bitch. You wrote the nasty story, The Corsair responded. Grind your axe in full view of the public and face me like a man (The Corsair rolls up his sleeves). Come on -- Let's dance.

You can reply to my email address or scribble a little something sweet and lovely in the comments section, if you like. I promise not to edit out a single word.

In: Tina Fey, Expecting. Our favorite head comedy writer is "with harlequin." According to the Dish:

"This just in: 'Saturday Night Live' comedian-writer Tina Fey is pregnant. The baby is due in September, People magazine reported Wednesday. It will be the first child for the "Weekend Update" co-anchor and her husband, 'SNL' composer Jeff Richmond.

"Fey will remain at the NBC show's fake news desk with co-anchor Amy Poehler through the end of the season. She has been head writer at the show for five years."

(The Corsair hoists a glass of Chateau D'yquem) Congratulations.


Out: Tinsley Mortimer and Fabian Basabe. This ubiquitous social dyad is omnipresent. Omnimoisturized. But have you ever seen the two of them together at the same time? Is Tinsley Mortimer the party-going superheroine than Fabian Basabe longs to be in his confused heart of hearts? Our favorite social chronicler, David Patrick Columbia unearths this rare photo (above) from Tartan Week. We report, you deride.


In: Roberto Cavalli. Because his flow is off the charts (The Corsair sips D'yquem). Because he wouldn't even appreciate the gesture. (The Corsair wolf-whistles) Because we cannot hope to navigate the unfathonable depths that are "Cavalli." That, and His mantan is inscrutable (The Corsair nods approval). All hail Cavalli, the hungry man's Lagerfeld. As Fashionweekdaily reports:

"The Cavallis headed down to sunny Florida for a fashion extravaganza at The Shore Club's Skybar beach pool. At one point, when Roberto, who was partying with guest Pharrell, went backstage as the fashion show was going on, 50 Cent's song, Candy Shop started blasting. And when the lyrics mentioning his name came through the speakers, all the models began dancing around him and cheering him on."

(The Corsair says the following with a false Belgian accent in his sleaziest, circa 1977, coked up disco voice) So chic.

Out: Katie Coric. Katie can't catch a brake can she? First, Alessandra Stanley issued "the pimp slap heard round the blogosphere" in the august pages on the Old Gray Lady. Then the Page Sixxies report that she is obscuring major "gam-action" by hiding behind a potted plant. So, to lighten up her Diva-characterization just a wee, Katie wishes out loud for something ... homey. Country 'bama assed. And even that failed her, alas, according to the Anchorage Daily News:

"After 'Today' show host Katie Couric exclaimed on air Tuesday morning that she'd love to visit Alaska to catch a salmon, Anchorage Mayor Mark Begich issued an official invitation and Tenth & M Seafoods donated two smoked Cook Inlet sockeye fillets to whet her desire."

You can whet it ... (The Corsair says in a whisper) ... but you can never "forget it" (The Corsair moistens his lips and winks at "His Katie" on the tv screen) Or, uh, so we're told.

"Friends of Animals faxed a letter to Couric on Wednesday, urging her to join a national tourism boycott over the state's predator control programs and hunting policies, said Susan Russell, the group's information officer."

You ever just have on of those weeks? Katie is.

In: Miu Von Furstenberg. The Corsair has the bestest blogwife. Miu Von Firstenberg is witty, "sessy" and has my back. And we laughed out loud in Bryant Park when we read on the screen, "I fucked Ann Coulter in the Ass Hard. Okay. I think someone has way too much time on their hands." Thank you, Miu for being Miu.

Thursday, April 28, 2005

The Corsair Versus Larry Dobrow

The Corsair can take criticism with the best of them. If one dishes it out, one must be prepared to take the hits along the way. That's only fair. But someone named Larry Dobrow of MediaDailyNews took it to another level.

We need to discuss his little article, which starts as a review of Razor Magazine and then sort of singles me out with screaming caps and artless lines. Dobrow begins his one-man-media critique by opening, on Razor Magazine, that "at times it boasts the manic twitch of Tom Arnold after 18 Red-Bull-and-vodkas."

Charmed, I'm sure. Tom Arnold ... Red Bull Vodka's -- and the punchline is? Clearly, Dobrow is on a tear. He thinks he is, anyway. Or, maybe Dobrow is on a rapidly approaching deadline with a deficit of wit. Our gassbag continues, leaking, noxiously:

"Here's the thing, though: Razor doesn't need to try as hard as it does. For about 75 percent of the mag's May issue, one gets the sense that it's about to settle in comfortably between Maxim and GQ on the men's publishing food pyramid. But the other 25 percent... medic!"

That "25 percent," apparently boils down to my 1,000 or so words in the May issue. Mathematics not being Dobrow's forte, not when Dobrow's got an axe to grind, to wit:

"Take 'The Corsair,' a column by blogger dude Ron Mwangaguhunga."

"Blogger dude." (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) The tone is set. The roles are cast in this ... bad Larry Dobrow operetta. The Corsair is "blogger dude," and Dobrow can hereafter be my sidekick, "Bubbles."

The 25 percent the aforementioned "Bubbles" says Razor needs to ditch is naught else but yours truly. Sour grapes? Sucky job? Hemmorroids? Who knows. Not I. Not, former Editor in chief of Macdirectory -- just ... "Blogger dude," (Averted Gaze) ladies and gentlemen of the jury. We'll presently proceed:

"In it, he ranks his top 10 women of the moment, referencing how Aisha Tyler 'fills out a bathing suit exquisitely' and how model Helena Christensen's face 'gets hotter and more interesting through the passage of time.'"

In The Corsair's defense, the other, oh, say, 987 words in the column are the stuff you have come to expect. Dobrow just zeroes in on his "25 percent," with maniacal glee, blind to the grand design. More bloviating:

"Honestly, I had to re-read it to see if I'd missed some blatant FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, THIS IS CLEARLY SATIRE notation, but none was forthcoming."

No, but forthcoming is a little piece of advice: turn down the volume, asshole. Pop a Klonopin, picklehead. All caps makes you look like an hysterical fool. All caps do not amplify the meaning of the sentence or the sentiment involved, as was your intention; all caps only draws attention to the lack of wit at your command. But Larry Dobrow has no "shame in his game":

"As a writer and a dude, I'm ashamed for both my profession and my gender."

As to the shame you profess to feel for your gender ... we will pass that over in considerable silence. We'll only say that such gender shame may color his observations on the genre of men's magazines. As to his proud claim that he is, in fact, a "dude," we'll let the dated quaintness of the term stand as a reminder that bad surfer movies do influence weak and rudderless minds.

In my article that -- on the whole -- was quite brimming with excellence, Larry Dobrow AKA "Bubbles," picked two of The Corsair's not-that-excellent lines (16 words in total) and makes them into all sorts of twisty shapes to the purpose of skewering The Corsair. (Did The Corsair spill a drink on you at a media party?) In the process, he has made an ass of himself.

What is the cause of Larry's obvious axe to grind? If "axework" is Larry's choice of arms, play on! But we think he'll find The Corsair's "Razor" sharper still. We all have our less-than-stellar moments, like this one that Mr. Larry Dobrow had in his review of Vanity Fair:

"...My horoscope informs me that in May, I'll be 'heading into uncharted territory without a Sherpa to guide [me].' Good thing I'm not planning on summiting Everest anytime soon."

Horoscope reviews? (Disgusted Gaze) This is supposed to be a media critique of Vanity Fair, my good man. Are they paying you by the word, Lar? Poor Larry Dobrow, paid to media navel gaze got caught contemplating "Uranus." (Averted Gaze)

That writing can only be properly construed as -- at best -- lazy, Mr. Taurus the Bull. At worst, that was Taurean bullshit.

Finally, Larry Dobrow reveals his odd personal animus (Did The Corsair interrupt you at a media panel?) never more clearly than in these telling lines:

"And yet Razor recovers from this grievous offense against the English language only a few short pages later. Flint Wainess invests his 'Breakup Guy' column with the self-deprecatory wit and self-awareness that Mwanga-whatever-his-name-is lacks."

"Mwanga-whatever-his name is." What is this, grade school? Larry Dobrow: Class dismissed.
Begun, the Ethics Wars Have


Yoda(chewing on a moist gimer stick): Begun, the "Ethics Wars" have ...

elsewhere in the galaxy: A clearly distraught and wild-eyed Senator Bill Frist. Surrounded by masses of mutilated cat entrails.

Senator Bill Frist: "I killed them. I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them. And not just the tabby's, but the minxes and the kittens, too! They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals! I HATE THEM!"

later ... Emperor Karl Rove administers "the touch"

Emperor Karl Rove (soothing): "You don't need guidance, Senator Frist. In time, you will learn to trust your feelings. Then, you will be invincible. I have said it many times, you are the most gifted Conservative I have ever met.

"Senator Frist (calmer): Thank you, Your Excellency.

"Rove: I see you becoming the greatest of all the Conservatives, Senator. Even more powerful than Count Cheney.

and, elsewhere:

Count Cheney: You call this a diplomatic Solution?
John Bolton: No, I call it an aggressive negotiation.

finally, culminating in:

Emperor Rove: Darth Frist?
Frist: Yes, Master ...
Emperor Rove (guttral roar): Riiise ....

The Ethics Wars have begun --
A Little of the Old In and Out


In: The Maggie Gylnenhaal Fiasco. According to Cinematical, "Ms. Gyllenhaal told a reporter at Friday night's Tribeca screening of The Great New Wonderful that she felt the US was 'responsible in some way' for the September 11 attacks; it escalated when, on Monday, the actress released a statement refusing to apologize for the initial quote."

It gets worse, though:

"We reported the other day that the sitemaster of had pleaded to Gyllenhaal detractors to stop 'spamming' her message board. Now, Reuters is reporting that the message board has so bombarded with feedback that it crashed the site's server. Today, the comments apparatus was taken off the site, because, as the sitemaster wrote, 'it's gotten too outta hand.' She continues, 'You can read this as a revoke of freedom of speech if you like, but it's far from it ... If you feel the need to bitch about Maggie ... this is not the place to do it.'"

Out:Paris Hilton. Cindy Pearlman of the Chicago-Sun Times interviewed Paris:

"Q: Paris, there's a scene in 'House of Wax' in which you die -- and the entire preview audience applauded wildly. Is this a good thing?

"Paris Hilton. That scene was awesome. It was really hard to shoot a spike going through my head. It took two days, and I was filming on night shoots, which are the worst hours ever. But it helped with the character because I was supposed to be cold and miserable and crying. So I was, like, literally crying. I was so miserable. I was like, 'Oh, please, just kill me already.'"

Yeah, but is it a good thing when the audience applauds your onscreen death scene?

"Q.Now you have a new best friend, Kimberly Stewart, who is rocker Rod Stewart's daughter. We have to wonder: How does one get to be your best friend? And how does one lose your friendship?

"Paris Hilton. Oh, I've known Kimberly since we were in our mommies' stomachs. When we were little girls, our parents would always do charity fashion shows, and Kim and I would be in the shows with our moms. We'd get all dressed up and have little karaoke parties at my house. It was so much fun."

Sounds like it. (Averted Gaze)


Above: Ivana Trump and her latest, the dubious Count OilySkankyoily (Or something like that) at last year's Costume gala.

In: Next Monday Night's Costume Gala. The guest list is crazy insane. According to Jim Shi of Fashionweekdaily:

" ... Next Monday night�s Costume Institute Gala at the MET promises to be quite possibly the most glamorous night in fashion history �

"The Daily has learned exclusively that opera star Ren�e Fleming will be the evening�s special performer during dinner (we even hear that Anna Wintour commissioned a custom-made Chanel couture gown for the soprano to wear).

" ... Among the A-listers Chanel will be dressing are Nicole Kidman (attending her second such gala in three years), Lindsay Lohan, Vanessa Paradis, Hope Atherton, and Ivanka Trump. In addition, Dr. Lisa Airan and Helen Schifter are expected to wear Chanel haute couture, and Selma Blair, a couture gown from the archives (though she is not sticking around for the dance portion).

" ... Gisele B�ndchen is Dolce & Gabbana�s guest, and Katie Holmes will arrive as a guest of Carolina Herrera."

Does Gisele mean Leo will be there, Does the appearance of the newly befouled Katie mean the new Urban Tom will be on hand, to personally supervise her corruption to the dark side of Scientology ("boop-boop-be-doop!"); and does Vanessa mean that Johnny will be there? And should The Corsair be ashamed to ask such questions?

"Nicole Richie is expected to be wearing either Missoni or Alessandro Dell�Acqua.

"The Melania will also be on hand, but is rumored not to be wearing Chanel."

The Corsair has got to crash this motherfucking tea party. You can send The Corsair his invite via:
Orlando Bloom's Braxillian Lax


Although he appeared in two of the highest-grossing motion pictures in film history, elvin prettyboy Orlando Bloom, apparently, doesn't feel the need to pay his dinner bills, according to the 3AM Girls:

"When the Lord Of The Rings star was handed a ($760) bill after treating his on-off girlfriend Kate Bosworth to a slap-up birthday meal - he couldn't use his flexible friend.

"Thanks to a problem with the restaurant's machine, 28-year-old Orlando was unable to settle up that night and left the restaurant promising to settle up later.

"But that was in January. So far, absent-minded Orlando's outstanding debt seems to have slipped his mind ..."

This is surprising news on many fronts: one, The Corsair was not aware that Kate Bosworth actually eats food. We thjought she survived on freshly picked clovers and morning dew. Second, that a millionaire Hollywood actor would pull something akin to a "dine and dash" in Brazil. Third, that Orlando "What Happens in Dubai, stays in Dubai" Bloom would allow things to progress this far:

"Orlando - currently making two sequels to Pirates Of The Caribbean as well as promoting Kingdom Of Heaven - had whisked starlet Kate to Brazil for her 22nd birthday.

"As part of the treat, he generously arranged for 30 of their closest pals to join them at the trendy Casaro Amarelo restaurant for a lavish five-hour meal.

"A fellow diner tells us, 'Orlando and Kate were in a big group. They ordered lots of food and wine, and were singing and dancing by the end of the meal."

Come on, Kate Bosworth ate a meal? You expect The Corsair to believe that?

"'Charlize Theron and her boyfriend were with the group and were really enjoying themselves. You could see Kate and Orlando only had eyes for each other.

"'But at the end of the night, when Orlando tried to pay the bill, the restaurant's machine was playing up.'

"The Canterbury-born movie hunk, who commands �3m a film, left staff in no doubt he would settle up later.

"Owner Fe Behling, who has run the restaurant for three years, has yet to see the colour of Orlando's money - even though she knows it is just an oversight."

An oversite remedied in the form of a scoop to the 3AM Girls, no doubt.

"She tells us, 'Yes, it's true. Orlando was here with Kate and about 30 people in early January.

"There was a problem with our credit card system that night. It wasn't his fault - he did his best to pay the bill at the time.

"He told us he didn't have a personal email account and so took our address.

"'And although we're sure it's a complete misunderstanding and know he's very busy, we've yet to hear from him.'"

We're fairly sure that you'll hear from him now, though "Fe."

"Fe adds, 'Orlando had come in the day before to make the reservation - he wanted it to be a surprise for Kate. He hired a local band who sang Happy Birthday to her.

"'He was very sweet and romantic. He brought a big cake with him, we provided the candles and also sang Happy Birthday too.'"

Kate "Count My Ribs" Bosworth actually ate cake?
That Kissinger Caricature

The Corsair was an intern and, briefly, a factchecker at The Nation back in the summer of 1995, and this story from Victor Navasky, A Matter of Opinion, brought me back to how much I loved those quasi-disfunctional staff meetings:

"One day in February 1984, David Levine called me. David is known to his fellow artists as one of the great realist painters, and is known in the media community as one of the geniuses responsible for the witty but wicked cross hatched pen-and-ink caricatures that since its outset have helped define the look of the New York Review of Books.

"This was around the time of the Kissinger Commission Report on the Caribbean Basin, and he had done a caricature of Henry Kissinger for the (NYRB), to accompany an essay by James Chase on the Kissinger Report. But Bob Silvers of the New York Review of Books, felt it was "too strong" to go with Chase's meditative essay, and said they would publish it later. David was not so sure about that, and anyway, wanted to publish it now. The cartoon, he told me, showed Kissinger on top of the world in the form of a naked woman on bottom. She had a globe where her head should have been, the Caribbean basin for a face, and they had an American flag for a blanket. Were we interested?


"David, I said, it will get me in all sorts of trouble with my staff, but send it over. Why will it get you in trouble with your staff? he asked. I don't know, I said, but I know it will.

"The cartoon arrived an hour later. It was, as expected, a brilliant caricature, but it was more than that. Kissinger in bed and on top had these thick lensed horn rimmed glasses and a look on his face that mingled evil and ecstasy as he did his dirty business with the world woman under the cover of the American flag. I called David and told him we were putting it through. Two hours later a petition arrived on my desk, signed by two thirds of the people in the office. Many of the signatures were followed by little comments. 'Sexist!' one had written. 'Why isn't he doing it to a Third World man?' asked another.

" ...My favorite moment came when Christopher Hitchens, who had written a column about the Kissinger Commission, said he thought that the Kissinger character was ravaging the woman; it wasn't an act of sex but an act of rape, a comment on the American empire's abuse of power. One of our younger woman staff members responded, 'But if you look at the woman's hand, it seems to be gripping the mattress in what could be the grip of passion.' The white suited Christopher, who enjoyed posing as the office roue, leaned over, gripping the young woman's hand, and said, 'Trust me, my dear, it is not the grip of passion.'"

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

What The?!

(image via elle)


What the --? (2nd item?) No?

And, via Popbitch, this *alleged* piece:

"A popbitch reader had sex with actor Alan Cumming in New York last year. Alan was described as 'remarkably quiet' during sex, but immediately after sat on the end of the bed, and adopted what was described as a 'tragic-little-boy-lost look', making demands in a very faint voice. Like 'Alan wants water now' and 'Alan wants chips now.'"

Yes? No?
A Little of the Old In and Out


In: Helena Christenson. How does The Corsair love this unbelievably hott woman? Let me count the ways. In an upcoming issue of Razor Magazine, The Corsair rates her one of the "10 Most Beautiful Women in the World." For now, though, according to British Vogue (link via Fashionweekdaily):

"HELENA CHRISTENSEN is all set to launch into the world of retail later this week. The Danish supermodel will open the doors of her new store, Butik, in a former bar on Hudson Street, New York, in three days time.

"Reflecting her eclectic fashion tastes, she says it will be the place to find 'everything strange and weird and wonderful and aesthetic and antique and new.' Having worn some of the most beautiful and expensive clothes in the world throughout her career, Helena does not intend this new venture to be restricted to the fashion elite. 'We're just trying to show how you can wear things differently,' goes on Helena, who plans to sell designs by the likes of Camilla Staerk as well as clothes that she and her business partner, floral designer Leif Sigersen, plan to design."

Out: Willem Defoe. Defoe is one of the best actors of his generation, hands down. Yes, his Jesus in The Last Temptation of Christ was a bit cheesy and weak, true; Defoe was, however, spectacularly evil as Bobby Peru in Wild at Heart, and creepily funny as "the hateful guard" in Cry Baby. But he is not averse to performing in a stinker. A certified stinker is what XXX2 can only be properly construed as! In something called Moviehole, Defoe defends the indefensible, namely: his work in XXX 2 (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment):

"One of the reasons I did the movie is because I love the idea of a bunch of homeboys being on tricked out military vehicles rolling down Pennsylvania Ave to save the day as the Capital Building is smoking. That?s a little jokey. .. a little jokey? it?s kitchy, but it?s a little cool too. It?s a fantasy thing and in this case, Ice Cube represents the people, ya know? It the closest thing that we have to the people. And people are alienated from the government and these people are going over to fight in foreign wars and coming back and what happens to them. All this is in them. Okay it?s a popcorn movie, but I like the fact that these elements are floating around."

Right. Keep drinking your Kool aid, Willie boy, maybe you'll actually fool yourself into believing the hype.


In: "Gravy." We have to admit it, we did a bit of a double take when we read in Rush and Molloy that a grown man actually took on the monicker, "Gravy." That's just too damned "country." Did he have a piece of hay in his mouth? Does he wear "short pants" and ride a bike? One almost expects such a man as would name himself "Gravy" (Averted Gaze) to blow on peanuts and shake them before consumption. (To take away the "bad mojo")

Anyway, here's the story:

"Foxy Brown should have packed a little less attitude before she headed to Miami last weekend.
Rapper Jacki O says the Brooklyn hip-hop queen brought a whupping on herself when she showed up at the Circle House studios to record with rapper Gravy.

"According to Jacki O, Brown took offense that no one acknowledged her when she arrived midsession.

"She [was saying,] 'You don't know who I am, you new girls coming into the game, y'all going to have to respect me,' Jacki tells us.

"Jacki said the verbal sparring quickly turned into a 'physical altercation,' with someone throwing lemonade."

We just kind of zoned off after the "Gravy" mention. Did something else meaningful occur?

Out: Drugs in the Stew. Trust means never having to slip a mickey to your mate. Honey, the fava beans taste not unlike "Special K." Ozzy, that heavy metal n'eer do well, actually drugged wifey Sharon when she wasn't aware, according to that extremely downmarket significant cultural artifact, NewsoftheWorld:

"(Ozzy) ground up addictive drugs with a pestle and mortar and slipped them into Sharon's food?sending her so crazy she would smash up their home.

"Sharon revealed: 'I couldn't control my emotions. It wasn't until months later that he told me he was putting drugs in the stew.

"'It took me a while to get over that, you know.' Now, after more than 20 years of marriage, and as Sharon and Ozzy celebrate their 52nd birthdays, more shocking secrets are finally exposed in the book which blows the lid off TV's most dysfunctional reality show family."

At what point as the meats were going down the proverbial gullet and the her reality began to morph into Fellini's Satyricon did Sharon begin to think, 'hey, has someone been putting funnystuff in my dinner?' Or maybe every day is Fellini Satyricon day for Sharon Osborne. More here.


In: Deeda Blair. You'll remember the name of Deeda Blair, Washingtonian socialite, now starting to make things happen in Manhattan, according to our favorite social chronicler, David Patrick Columbia:

"Among those present at yesterday?s (ed note: Goethe Institute) luncheon was Deeda Blair who arranged the introduction of John Buchanan, the director of the Portland Museum, to Moritz the Landgrave of Hesse. Mrs. Blair, a longtime Washington resident who is about to take up fulltime residence here in New York, served as catalyst of one of the greatest exhibiting coups ever accomplished by an American museum."


The accomplishment being The Hesse exhibition, says DPC:

"Today the Hesse family collection remains one of the greatest private collections in all of Europe. The exhibition coming to Portland in October will contain the Holbein Madonna, painted for the burgomeister of Basel Meyer von Hasen, in 1526. This Madonna of Mercy, with her cape spread out protectively over his family, escaped the Basel Iconoclasm of 1529 and reappeared with the French dealer Le Blond a century later. He had two clients, an Amsterdam bookseller and Marie de Medicis, so he sold her a copy, later acquired by the King of Saxony, while the original remained in Holland. It then reappeared in Paris in 1822, when it was bought by Prince William of Prussia, who bequeathed it to his wife, a Hesse.It will leave Germany for the first time in more than 150 years to be exhibited in America."

The Corsair so hearts Holbein (one of our favorite Old Masters), you don't even know.

Out: Sean Lennon. Yo, peep this shit out. There are two sides to every story, but Sfgate's Dish has the most interesting take on this, dig?:

"John Lennon's son Sean reportedly tried to start a fight with a punk rock bassist during an appearance at Britain's All Tomorrow's Parties festival this weekend.

"The son of the Beatles legend, who was joined by his mother Yoko Ono at Pontin's holiday resort in England's Camber Sands, allegedly took exception to the Jayne County and the Electric Chairs bassist because he was sporting a mohawk.

"The pair almost came to blows before security at the venue stepped in and defused the situation.

"Singer Jayne County says, 'It angers me that Sean Lennon, son of John -- a member of the Beatles, who I love -- can be so drunk and narrow-minded to pick a fight with my bass player because he has a mohawk.

"'He was surrounded by girls and thought my bass player was competition so he started picking on him. He was out of order and was slagging him, saying he was old and had a crap haircut.

"'I think he's insecure. Security had to step in and separate them or blood would have been spilled. The gig went brilliantly but Sean Lennon spoiled it for me. He's a loser.'"


In: Aisha Tyler. So fucking hott, this woman is. Aisha Tyler is also in The Corsair's Razor "Top Ten Most Beautiful Women" column next month. According to Reuters (link via Cinematical), she is having quite a year:

"In what has already been a busy year for her, Aisha Tyler is adding roles in a Lifetime movie and an independent feature.

Tyler, who plays a recurring character on CBS' 'CSI: Crime Scene Investigation' and Fox's '24' and a lead in CBS' John Gray pilot, is set to star opposite Raven Symone in the Lifetime film tentatively titled 'For One Night.' She also has joined Milla Jovovich, Angus Macfadyen and Stephen Dorff in Mobius Entertainment's indie project."45."

"... Written and to be directed by Gary Lennon, '.45' is described as an erotic drama set in the seamy underworld of New York's Hell's Kitchen, where a Bonnie and Clyde-like couple turn on each other. Tyler will play a court-appointed social worker who interacts with Jovovich's character. Filming is scheduled to begin this week in Toronto."

We hope Pamela Anderson's mantoy Stephen Dorff doesn't jinx this project like he has so often in the past.
The Snoop Doggy Blog


Above: Budding actor and pimp, Snoop Dogg "emotes."

Lloyd Grove -- the hip hop gossip columnist, of late -- is on a scoop streak. Yesterday, "The Stamos," Today Lowdown reports:

"The cornrowed rapper/actor, aka Calvin Broadus, promised to come to Monday night's Tribeca Film Festival after-party at Lotus for 'The L.A. Riot Spectacular,' which he narrates.

"But Snoop party-pooped - never leaving the bash for 'The Tenants,' in which he acts, at the nearby nightclub Aer."

Is what Snoop Dogg does called acting? Do we have a consensus on that? The Corsair saw the regrettable "Bones" (Averted Gaze). Okay. I'm just saying. Proceed:

"Party publicists at Lotus grew frantic as the night wore on and their No. 1 guest failed to appear.

"An 'L.A. Riot' production staffer finally passed the word that Snoop 'had gone home to his hotel room to smoke chronic.'

"Another party staffer seethed: 'For him to be just one block away shows he's not supporting his own movie!'"

Come on. Naivete is so unbecoming, especially in the jaded entertainment industry. Let's keep it real. Snoop's "hood." He's a self-professed pimp. He's (The Corsair leans in confidentially) -- what the French call "L'Homme du Boulevard." (street)

Party monogamy? Please. To expect Snoop Dogg to support a project is futile.

"Lowdown hears that at Aer, Snoop holed up in a back-corner table of the Premiere magazine lounge and gestured emphatically to the deejay, who was spinning this and that. The deejay seemed oblivious. In due course, Snoop commanded his bodyguard to send the message: 'Yo, Snoop wants Snoop.'"

Snoop was doing postmodern irony. We give him a 6.5 on the meta discursive dismount. But guess who has to suffer:

"Guests - including co-star Dylan McDermott - were subjected to Snoop's tunes for four hours straight.

"Bizarrely, Snoop was spotted sipping herbal tea from a tiny cup and saucer, extending his pinkie, mid-sip, like the Queen of England."

(The Corsair says matter of factly) There comes a point in any ongoing "chronic marijuana cypher" when the participants fall into the Victorian damsel routine. This may have something to do with the herb being especially "perturb," thus unlocking hidden ancestral memories. And what not. Opinions vary, but this occurs usually after the seventh or eighth hit of "the hydro."

Just ride it out. The worst that could happen is that he might break into some robust seamstressing. Or, maybe exit briskly to sell some butter and eggs on the street. Or some down with the rare case of Typhoid fever. No biggie, either way. After some more tokes, he should return to normal dice-slinging, 'ho pimping self. Only with a deeper understanding and appreciation of horseback riding, sidesaddle.
Madonna: Canned


She's conquered music, children's book publishing and British society, but film is proving to be Madonna's Waterloo. She just can't catch a break!

The Corsair has a pet theory that its because she insists on being sexy and glam. The cinema (The Corsair huffs) does not exist to enforce one's idealized self-image (Except in the case of Tom Cruise, who, in his films, is invariably "the best he does at what he does"). Madonna as an frumpy trailer park druggie in a small indie film would get an Oscar. The Corsair believes she would have gotten a nomination had she taken Kim Bassinger's role in "8 Mile." But she' s Madonna's too vain to see that reality clearly.

Anyway, according to the 3AM Girls:

"Organisers of the Cannes Film Festival in France recently decided the singer's new documentary was too poor to screen at the prestigious event."

(Averted Gaze)

"But despite spending hours holed up with Swedish director Jonas Akerlund making cuts and tweaks in a re-edit, 3am has learnt new flick, Re-Invented Process, still isn't going to make the festival."

Even with an imported Swedish Director!

"Madge and Akerlund, who also made druggie drama Spun, have been given a final thumbs-down and are said to be devastated the film has not been chosen for the festival.

"It's another humiliating blow for the Kabbalah Queen, 46, who's seen her film career hit the skids in recent years. Her appearance in Ritchie's Swept Away was panned, whilst a cameo in his next movie Revolver has already made the cutting room floor."

Most provocative headline: "Guy Ritchie Uses 'Revolver' On Madonna."

"A Cannes film festival insider confirmed: 'There is a huge amount of competition at the festival. Madonna's was just one of thousands.

"'We felt the documentary had a lot of merit, but in the end there were other more suitable submissions that pushed it out of the running.'"

Simultaneous Cannes Festival Insider Translator: The Re-Invention Process is naught else but simple shit.

Tuesday, April 26, 2005

The Passion of the Stamos


John Stamos is beginning to appear as kind of creepy. Okay, really, really Hollywood creepy. Stamos is creepy in that oily, overcosmeticized, ex-Soap Opera actorish kind of way. He could easily be an agent. His unfortunate, soft porny work in "Jake in Progress," where he portrays "The Male Id" unrestrained, doesn't really help matters for "Uncle Jesse." (Averted Gaze)

While we generally don't approve of the art of eavesdropping which Daily News columnist Lloyd Grove does quite well -- it also nearly got Grove into a fistfight with Howard Stern -- we thank him for his labors. How else would we know that Rebecca Romijn dumped John Stamos' ass because he has anger issues:

"'Did you start dating instantly as soon as your marriage broke up?' (Oprah interior decorator Nate Berkus) was heard asking John Stamos' ex-wife, whose flack officially announced their separation in April 2004, after five years of marriage.

"'Yeah, but we'd actually been separated a year before we told the press about it,' Romijn confided. 'We were in couples' therapy before and after we separated, and we briefly got back together. But we fought from the very beginning, and we just fought and fought. I just got so sick of John being mad all the time. He was always so mad.'"

Stamos comes out of that significant cultural institution known as the Soap Opera. Very few people on soap opera's think of it as being anything other than a paycheck and, quite possibly, an audition to bigger and better things (The Corsair actually dated a Soap Opera minor character
for a few months)

Thus, The Corsair -- mirabile dictu -- has made a study of the "Soap Opera face." It is the triumph of the plastic surgeon's art. Observe "The Bold and the Beautiful." This celebration of pure facial excess serves our purposes adequately.

The overcosmeticization of the soap opera faces on "The Bold and the Beautiful" is quite simply insolent. The "jutting cheekbones" offend puritanical sensibilities, and, in close quarters, can put someone's eyes out. The "overpouty lips" are naught else obscene. The industry standard "cleft chin in the form of an infant's ass" (May I slap him?) can only be properly construed as jejeune. Finally, the fixed prehistoric raptor gaze is awesome to behold.

And the names. Rococo names like (Averted Gaze), "Thorne," and (huffs) "Dakota," and (The Corsair growls) -- most improbably, "Dorian Lord."

As if!

Such is the atmosphere in which "Stamos" evolved, and that -- we surmise -- is why he is as he is thus. Perhaps ... we should not judge Stamos. Stamos works in mysterious ways. Anger, maybe, is the expulsion of toxins gained toiling in such a manifestly plastic cultural regime as the American soap opera.

(The Corsair drapes a cape over himself a la James Brown)
A Little of the Old In and Out


Above: Karl Rove contemplates stripping the Minority party in the Senate of some of its powers. Such are the mysteries of the Dark Side of the force. (image via

In: The Nuclear Option. The Corsair had thought that with corporate lobbyists lining up against the "nuclear option," the issue was dead in the water for Republicans who rely on that wellspring as mother's milk. It is not. A nuclear winter may be upon us. The will to ramrod conservative judges is greater than those interests. Recent drives by Vice President Dick Cheney and Senate Majority Leader (and Karl Rove's favorite '08 marionette) Bill Frist prove that it's on like Gray Poupon, according to TheHill:

"Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist (R-Tenn.) has taken steps to try to soothe business and trade-association leaders who have voiced concerns that the so-called nuclear option will stymie the business agenda in Congress.But Frist has shown no sign of backing down and has indicated his intention to press ahead with his drive to stop the Democratic filibuster of judicial nominees.

"Frist?s every move on the judicial filibuster issue is receiving heightened scrutiny, and the issue has been transformed in recent weeks into one of the most prominent national political news stories. Meanwhile, Senate Minority Leader Harry Reid (D-Nev.) told reporters yesterday that GOP leaders are being driven to act by 'radical Republicans' while predicting that the issue will help Democrats pick up Senate seats in the 2006 elections."

Prepare for the Democrats to shut down the government a la Gingrich. And prepare for the Democrats to bring up the "Star Wars" narrative reference of the stripping of powers of the Senate. Will Jimmy Smits actually get involved? And, prepare for public opinion to agree that the overzealousness of Evangelicals is getting fucking out of hand.


Out: Robert Downey, Jr. No wonder "Rip" gave "Julian" that bad bump of speedball in "Less Than Zero." He's inappropriate! And ... he had that really ... really weird shirt in that scene. *The Corsair shudders* What was up with that?

But we digress. According to ThisisLondon (link via Drudgie poo):

"Actor Robert Downey Jr left presenter Lorraine Kelly lost for words today by telling her: 'Your t*ts look great!'

"The former Hollywood bad boy had daytime viewers choking on their cornflakes when he made the remark on ITV1 show This Morning.

"Kelly, wearing an orange cardigan and black camisole which revealed a hint of cleavage, was hosting the show in place of Fern Britton.

"She welcomed Downey Jr to the show by telling him: 'You look fantastic, you look really well.'

"The 40-year-old actor replied: 'Thanks. I was going to say that your t*ts look great too!'

"A clearly shocked Kelly, 45, said 'Thank you, that's nice,' as Downey Jr added: 'Particularly today.'

"Kelly managed to say: 'Oh good, well I'm glad I made you happy.'

(A considerable silence on the part of The Corsair)

"Gazing down at her cleavage and adjusting her top, she said: 'I didn't realise they were so out.'

"Kelly's co-host Jeremy Kyle, on his first day as temporary replacement for Phillip Schofield, stepped in to change the subject by saying: 'Let's move swiftly on.'

"An embarrassed Kelly agreed: 'I think we should.'"


In: Carolyn Murphy. Not that a blonde, blue eyed model needs any extra help in the business -- they don't -- still, it is impossible to overlook the incredible success of Carolyn Murphy.

She's on every magazine cover that matters. Murphy harkens back to the Golden Age of Supermodels (The Corsair's IQ suddenly dropped about 15 points for actually writing that last sentence, sorry guys), when the category of "model," was as socially prestigious as that of "actor," or "rock and roll star," or -- later in the irrationally exuberant 90s -- "CEO." Check out the Fashionweekdaily's Caroline Murphy Timeline, and observe in detail the rapid rise of "Nicolae" ... er, we mean Carolyn.

Out: Jude: I'm Not Moving to New York. Corsair: I Couldn't Give a Fuck. Asshole, Eurotrash punkface.

In: Andy Dick. Andy Dick ... is tripping. Andy Dick is not right in the head. Andy Dick's so crezzy; he's the car wreck that we all gawk at; Andy Dick is the comedy that keeps giving. The very cool Laurie and the gang (hey guys!) at (link via Defamer) note this Andy Dick news from a source:

"I was getting my hair done and I overheard some people saying that organizers of Coachella actually had a special meeting about NOT letting Andy Dick in to the festivities this year. You'd think his arrest at the fest last year for smoking a joint would be good publicity for a fest that this year boasts the musical talent of Junkie XL, Snow Patrol, Z-Trip, the Chemical Brothers and Spoon. Apparently not. Maybe the organizers fear he's become a more hardened criminal, graduating to jaywalking or making illegal U-turns."

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury: Andy Dick's wild rampage at Suede last year. Here.

Out: CBS' Multiple Anchor Format. RIP, at least for now (Don't play "Taps" on the bugle yet), according to (link via Romenesko):

"'Despite speculation that CBS might try a multiple-anchor format, network news president Andrew Heyward said yesterday that the evening newscast will revolve around interim anchor Bob Schieffer for the foreseeable future.

In a Globe interview, Heyward said that CBS chairman Leslie Moonves ''threw [the multiple-anchor concept] out as an idea, one of several different approaches that were worthy of considering. Part of Leslie's job is to be an agent provocateur, and he's very good at that.' But Heyward dismissed the idea of using anchors behind desks in different cities."

Next up: Moonves arranges a painful execution for Heyward at Black Rock for using his full Christian name "Leslie" (Averted Gaze) in the press.
Christiane Amanpour: International Goddess


(image via NYTCO)

The Corsair has always privately wondered, after seeing investigative news goddess Christiane Amanpour covering the deadliest troublespots on the planet -- Sudan in mid-genocide, war torn Iraq, disintegrating Yugoslavia, Haiti in meltdown -- whether or not she worries about her immediate future and what effect that might have on her young son. Of course she does, according to Rush and Molloy:

"Top CNN international correspondent Christiane Amanpour probably has one of the riskiest jobs in the world. It weighs on her, she told us recently, more out of concern for her 5-year-old son, Darius, than for herself.

"'I find it increasingly difficult,' Amanpour said during a recent visit to New York. 'Because the kind of work I do is rather dangerous. And it takes you away for prolonged periods of time.'

"With the death of an Associated Press cameraman over the weekend, 63 journalists have been killed in Iraq since the 2003 invasion. Amanpour, 47, covered the Iraqi elections for the all-news network for much of January. She'd been in Afghanistan in October, the Middle East in November and in Sri Lanka after the tsunami.

"After Darius was born, Amanpour and her husband, PBS 'Wide Angle' host and former State Department spokesman James Rubin, pledged that they'd wouldn't be away from home more than two weeks at a time. But during the elections, Amanpour, who was raised in Iran, had to stay longer."

Incidentally, had Kerry beat Bush, Rubin would have been the UN Ambassador.

"'I feel increasingly afraid, not just for my life, but for what it will mean for my son,' the courageous journalist told us. 'So it's increasingly difficult emotionally for me. But I'm still committed, because I think covering international news is getting more important, not less. And there are fewer people, not more, doing it.'"

The Corsair totally worships Christiane Amanpour. In fact, The Corsair remembers the moment when she became an actual goddess in our eyes. It was during a riot in Haiti at the beginning of the Clinton Administration. Aristide had been ousted. Colin Powell was doing behind-the-scenes diplomacy. Amanpour was reporting on the looting of a grocery store, which was in the process of taking place, maybe 30 feet behind her. The Corsair thought, "Gee, that lawless riot site may not be a good place for a CNN correspondent to be standing."

And then we thought, "but the fact that she is ..."

The fact that Christiane Amanpour "is"
Liz Smith at the LA Times Book Festival


Ah, Liz Smith and books. We love the smell of old books and pipe tobacco in the morning. It smells like ... pretentiousness. Our favorite gossip columnist "with access" loves to pepper her ultrapositive "gossip" (That mysterious, unseen Michael Eisner "Kill Liz Smith" memo notwithstanding) avec les quotes from the literati. As if the odd quote from Chateaubriand or Gore Vidal mitigates the fact that she just reported on the Kevin Costner wedding.

And so did we (The Corsair sips a Madeira wine). But we like to splash swishy "fiery waters," "icy wit" and "astute political commentary" on top of our dish like true gossip gourmands, as opposed to the (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) quote game which fools no one. So, what was Our "Liz Smithy" to do when the LA Times Book festival rolled around? Mingle:

"At the Book Festival, I rubbed shoulders with Maureen Dowd of the N.Y. Times, Ken Auletta of The New Yorker, Maureen Orth of Vanity Fair, Jack Welch of Boston, Peter Bart of Variety and Arianna Huffington of all points."

Smashing. Diagnosis: If Liz rubbed shoulders with the self-consciously adorable Maureen Dowd, you're probably okay. Maybe. A shot of penicillin might not be out of order, though, as Maureen did have a "moist thing" going on with Michael --facelift, cough -- Douglas. And that puts her in the "sexual six degrees" of the virtually everyone in the fetid Hollywood DNA pool (eew).

As for rubbing shoulders with Ken Auletta, you'll want to destroy your pantsuit immediately, as there is no manner of dry cleaning known to man that can clean a jacket stained with "Auletta Mantan." With Maureen Orth, you're probably okay. We don't have any dirt on her.

With Jack Welch, you may want to file a harassment complaint, because Jack's horny with lady journos, quite frankly, and the "shoulder rub" (Averted Gaze) may or may not have been intentional on his part. And with Arianna Huffington, you may want to check to see if your wallet is intact. I'm just saying ...

Monday, April 25, 2005

The Arianna Huffington World Domination Tour 2005


(A truly disturbing image via

Dahlink, it's Arianna's world and all just live in it, no? (The Corsair lights a Gauloises Blondes Lights and contemplates the indeterminate dyadic structure of Plotinus' Enneads) And in lower tax brackets, no less. (Averted Gaze) One can almost hear those dulcet Greek tones purred into our ears, seductively, beckoning like the dark Ionian Lyre.

Arianna is a Siren, leading celebrities to be dashed upon the wet black rocks of her glorious gem-like evildarkness. *The Corsair shudders at the sheer "sessiness"*

Odysseus -- that ancient hero of many ways -- knew how to handle such a situation (Any situation, or "heropass," really). Were Odysseus of Ithaka "Arianna'd," (A derivative of "Punk'd," but instead of being adolescently pranked, the victim's soul is consciously sacrificed as kindling for Arianna's vast political-cultural ambitions) he'd stop his ears up with melted wax, rather than be coaxed into the jagged shoreline like so much of the hoi polloi, rendered inconvenient flotsam. According to the Old Gray Lady:

"(Huffington) has lined up more than 250 of what she calls 'the most creative minds' in the country to write a group blog that will range over topics from politics and entertainment to sports and religion. It is essentially a nonstop virtual talk show that will be part of a Web site that will also serve up breaking news around the clock. It is to be introduced May 9.

"Having prominent people join the blogosphere, Ms. Huffington said in an interview, 'is an affirmation of its success and will only enrich and strengthen its impact on the national conversation.' Among those signed up to contribute are Walter Cronkite, David Mamet, Nora Ephron, Warren Beatty, James Fallows, Vernon E. Jordan Jr., Maggie Gyllenhaal, Arthur M. Schlesinger Jr., Diane Keaton, Norman Mailer and Mortimer B. Zuckerman.

"'This gives me a chance to sound off with a few words or a long editorial,' said Mr. Cronkite, 88, the longtime 'CBS Evening News' anchorman. 'It's a medium that is new and interesting, and I thought I'd have some fun.'"

Oh goody: A longwinded, 88 year old Walter Cronkite editorial. Artie "Will you presently get me a bib for my drool" Schlessinger on the folly of the James Buchanan Presidency (zzzz) -- oh, happy 3AM on C-Span joy. And, the article continues, there will be the "token conservatives" -- cough, starfuckers -- bused into the lower Manhattan loft (with National Guard troops patrolling, no doubt, to prevent rioting):

"... Some conservatives have also signed on, among them Tony Blankley, editorial page editor of The Washington Times, and David Frum, the writer who coined the phrase 'axis of evil' when he was a speechwriter for President Bush."

Then, Katherine Q Seelye allows some healthy skepticism to intrude on the tea party:

"(Former executive vice president of AOL Time Warner, Kenneth B. Lerer) said the Post, which will generate revenue by selling advertising space, was being financed initially by him, Ms. Huffington and 10 others he identified as 'friends and family.'"

They will be referred henceforth and hereafter in The Corsair blog as, "'Sugarmommies' and 'Coolbreeze Blog Poppa's'":

"'... The bloggers will not be paid,'" join the fucking club, cheesecakes of TheHuffingtonReport; this is for the love. And, the ilicit blog groupiesex in the Apple store on Prince Street (Observer columnists, did you get that?).

"Group blogs are not altogether new; what is new is brand-name people writing them. But it is just this aspect of the Post that is raising questions among Web watchers about whether it can succeed. Jay Rosen, who writes about blogs on his Web site (, said he doubted that celebrities would be driven by the same passion that drives many regular bloggers.

"'These aren't exactly people who lack voice or visibility in our culture,' he said in an e-mail message. 'Gwyneth Paltrow has no incentive to speak candidly and alienate future ticket buyers."

Oh, The Corsair doesn't know -- that whole cupping thing (Averted Gaze), then naming the baby after a fresh fruit (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) seemed vaguely career-suicidal in a call for help, Harvey-Weinstein-doesn't-love-me-long-time -anymore kind of way:

"Barry Diller doesn't have time to hunt down juicy links for his readers. And where does Jon Corzine fit into any conversation those two might be having?'"

Rosen has a point. Jon Corzine running hard for Governor in filthycorrupt Jersey -- the most astonishingly hardball state in the Union -- on the blog, will be about as revealing as a Dita Von Teese strip tease. Which is to say: not nearly revealing or "satisfying" enough (Champagne glass bath, notwithstanding). But we'll still be glued to the site, staring supinely up at Arianna with our characteristic gaze of wonderment at all-things-Huffington. And The Corsair giving them a hard time, with all due snarky blog-love. No less could be expected of us.

NYTimes on The Huff.
A Little of the Old In and Out


In: Scarlett Johansson (image via jassebombscans). While we believe that Scarlett, a woman who lusts after being in Debrett's -- of being titled, of being (Averted Gaze) "Eurorespectable" -- would be the perfect choice for Prince (King?) Albert II of Monaco to impregnate and marry (InTouch Weekly are saying Angelina Jolie is being aggressively courted, but we believe Angie will ultimately in go for Brad's looks and kisses over Albert's title and money), she is doing her second collabo with our favorite incestuous clarinet player, because, according to Variety (link via Cinematical), "Scarlett Johansson will be spending another summer with Woody in the U.K. Thesp has been cast as the female lead in Woody Allen's next film, which begins shooting June 28 in London."


Out: Mariah Carey. "Joy" is when Mariah (the noun referring to the person and not the verb meaning "crazy") has a record out. The self-proclaimed "Mimi" does any and all interviews, and gushes over the questions lasciviously. Mariah is about as subtle and as nuanced as a truculent belch. So, when she has an opportunity to make some entirely inappropriate sexual allusion, she will, thus gaining untold media coverage in the retelling, as she does here, according to Ananova:

"Mariah Carey has revealed she has a wardrobe just for her underwear."

Scoop #1: Mariah Carey actually wears underwear. We're guessing she sports "easy access" drawers, though.

"The singer says she has so much sexy lingerie it filled a large wardrobe in her house reports

"She said: 'I like lingerie that's lacy and normally white. But then I also love dressing up in pink lingerie - and black is hot too. I have everything laid out in colours so I can pick them out quickly.'

"She added: 'It's right off my bathroom so rather than going down to my main closet soaking wet, all dripping and nude, I decided to make a nice lingerie closet. That way I can jump out of my tub, run naked into the next room and put on a nice little number."

All the while ... spraying those ... crazy Mariah crystalline droplets of yum all over the crazy Mariah marble floor (TM) that crazy Mariah is sprinting on, buck naked, caramel-colored, like some crazy Mary Jane candy caught in some errant, idiot wind ...


In: Anna Nicole Smith's National Enquirer Column. Anna's priceless (well, maybe $86 million, and she'll "rock your world," if you can swing it); we love us our Anna. Her "column" (Arched eyebrow) is a national treasure as to the work we have yet to accomplish on the matter of Adult Literacy in the United States. A mind is a terrible thing to waste and all that jazz. It's almost like a Zen Koan, "What cannot read or write yet has a well read column?" This week, Anna goes to the Grad Ole Opry in her National Enquirer column:

"I've been wanting to go to the Grand Ole Opry my entire life and maybe even sing live on stage. I finally got my chance and it was everything I had hoped it would be. I got to see one of my idols, Loretta Lynn. She was incredible. She looks the same as she did 20 years ago. Vince Gill, Joe Nichols and Rebecca Lynn Howard also sang. They were great too. And all very cute. Did I mention cute?"

Anna's moral universe is a cosmic struggle between the forces of "cute," and "kinda uncute."

"Vince Gill tried to set me up with Joe Nichols. And this was on live TV! I even got to go backstage during the show. I met the country stars and took pictures."

Unless referring to celestial phenomena, we believe -- and strongly counsel -- Anna Nicole should refrain in future scribblings from mentioning the words "country," and "stars" in direct succession (Averted Gaze).

"Porter Wagoner was there and he sure does dress the part! What a thrill! Well, I didn't get to sing."

Dogs and other animals sensitive to high-pitched shrieking noises may presently rejoice:

"But one of the dancers did convince me to dance on stage. He said it would be really easy, only two moves. I said yes before I remembered I was sick and could barely stand."

Simultaneous Anna Nicole Translator: Sick = Ass Drunk off A Jug of Uncle Skyler's Moonshine, conveniently named "Smokey Mountain Daterape."

"The dancer tricked me. I was out there a whole song, way more than two moves."

Way, way more, cowboy, but don't even ask for a precise figure -- Anna Nicole's ability to navigate the (Exaggerated cough suggesting feigned detachment) "upper integers" beyond the "2" is (Gales of soft chuckles, punctuated by a desperate gasping for air) dodgy at best. (The Corsair bites his fist)

"I thought I was going to die! And you shouldn't go country dancing with high heels and a wrap dress on. I know that now. My heel got caught on my dress and I may have showed a thing or two, if you know what I mean. Ooopsie!"

Okay, even The Corsair has his limits of indulging the hill people. Go here if you want to read more about the ethnoanthropology of everyone's favorite "Jim's Krispy Chicken" employee done good.

Out: Confederacy of Dunces. Well, not "Out" exactly, but shelved, definitely shelved for the time being, to our profound sadness, according to Indiewire's interview with David Gordon Green:

"iW: Yes, I heard you got a house in New Orleans. And speaking of New Orleans, what happened with 'Dunces'? [Green was slated to direct the long-awaited film adaptation of 'A Confederacy of Dunces' for Miramax, but the project has fallen apart.]

"David Gordon Green: 'Dunces' was burdened by the financial and political paperwork that ultimately shelved it creatively. It was at a standstill between so many people that had their hand in the project, and the financial baggage that accumulated over the last 20 years. We assembled what I thought was an extraordinary cast, and had what I thought was a wonderful adaptation of the novel written by Steven Soderbergh and Scott Kramer, but it was a circumstance where every move needed to be approved and calculated and re-approved and the financial circumstances needed to be reconsidered and baggage kept getting bigger and bigger, so it wasn't an ideal circumstance under which to make the creative movie that it should have been -- so who knows if that will ever happen, I hear different things, I don't think anyone can make it until someone gets paid off or dies [laughs]."

Free idea from The Corsair: A documentary (for IFC or Sundance) on the making and/or unmaking of The Confederacy of Dunces project.

In: The Cupcake Interview. The Corsair has a hard reputation. Intense, they say. Reclusive. Drinking, rhetorically prickly, moody, modelizing -- well, minus the "modelizing," anyway -- but we're drinking milk. We are all these things. And, a Gemini besides.

How does one soften one's "rep"? How does one evolve from being perceived as the hungover alphablogger type, into a more in-touch-with-his feelings kind of guy? Most important: How does one get more people to participate in the "comments" section -- so often as empty as Jared Leto's head -- of his Corsair blog? With this (The Corsair rubs his hands together and laughs like an evil genius). Ron Mwangaguhunga AKA, The Corsair, does "The Cupcake Interview."

So you see, ladies (The Corsair slowly takes off his shirt), The Corsair is not dangerous. Quite the contrary (The Corsair turns on some mysterious Couperin). How could a man who eats pastry break your heart?

Out: Rebekah Hirsch? Perhaps The Corsair is reading too much into things. Those Page Sixxies ran a provocative blind item today, saying, "WHICH fashion house's publicity department is rejoicing over the departure of its leader? This p.r. head took credit for others' accomplishments, much to the dismay of everyone else." Then, as if by coincidence, According to Fashionweekdaily:

"While most of the guests stayed for the entire night, using the opportunity to do some spring shopping or to pick up a specially-designed T-shirt benefiting Riverkeeper, the buzz of the evening, at least among the industry crowd, was Rebekah Hirsch, Ralph Lauren�s vice president of fashion communications�, impending move to Chanel. 'Are you wearing Chanel tonight?' friends asked in jest as they examined her outfit, which, for the record, was by Ralph Lauren."

Hmm. We're just guessing here.

In: The Outdoorsmen: The Corsair was sent this by some PR firm, so if you're interested an downtown tonight:

"10:00 PM

"Monday, April 25thTribeca Cinemas

"Theater 154 Varick Street, NYC

"Admission is FREE on a first-come, first-served basis!

"Once a year, an exclusive group of men travel to a top-secret location somewhere in the wooded mountains of Washington State to compete in an all-day event they call The Outdoorsmen.

"They battle their way through a series of events that combine physical challenges with high-speed beer chugging. For the past 14 years, this dedicated group has competed relentlessly to bask in the glory of winning the coveted title of Outdoorsmen Champion.

"For more information, visit: here


Above: No, no, no. The Corsair will not do any Salma Hayek's "Cannes" jokes. There's quite simply no challenge. Too easy. Beneath our efforts. Where's the "sport"?

Out: Salma's "Cannes" Jokes. We could do endless Salma Hayek "Cannes" jokes, as today she joined the jury for that prestigious Film Festival, but no -- we will resist the urge, no matter how mighty the temptation. It would be terribly juicy ... to comment make lascivious "Palme d'Or" allusions, but -- no. We'll keep our Palme off her Cannes.