Friday, May 27, 2005

One Less Reason To Go On Living

Access Hollywood is reporting that Janice Dickinson, the only good thing about "America's Next Top Model" (besides hot tub sex, bulumia, impending blindness, flesh-eating bacteria/impetigo, and crying over who gets to unlock Nelson Mandela's jail cell), is not coming back next season! AAAAAAAAH!
Janice Dickinson is no longer in the running to judge who will become "America's Next Top Model." The loudmouth supermodel and author has been replaced by Twiggy Lawson on the upcoming fifth season of the UPN reality show.

"We would like to thank Janice for bringing her talents to the show and for everything she did to help us build `America's Next Top Model' into its current success," executive producer Ken Mok said in a statement Thursday. "We wish her well in all of her future endeavors."

Dickinson, author of "No Lifeguard on Duty: The Accidental Life of the World's First Supermodel" and "Everything About Me Is Fake ... And I'm Perfect," was the most outspoken member of the model hunt's judging panel, dishing harsher-than-harsh critiques to contestants and spatting with fellow judges since the first season.

Also gone as a judge is stylist Nole Marin. He'll be replaced by runway expert J. Alexander, a former male model who's taught catwalk technique and guest judged in previous seasons _ or "cycles," the show's term for each installment.

English supermodel Lawson rose to fame in the 1960s with her doe eyes and pixie 'do, appearing on the covers of such magazines as Harper's Bazaar, Vogue, McCall's, Seventeen and Newsweek.

Dickinson will star in the next season of VH1's "The Surreal Life" with the likes of Jose Canseco and Bronson Pinchot. According to UPN, Dickinson also has a television production deal and is currently working on a new book.

The only positive aspect of this catastrophe is that we will no longer be subjected to Nole "I'm Nothing Without My Dog" Marin, who was both boring and a boor, which is quite a feat for a gay man with a tiny dog on a wee pillow. But as much as I love Twiggy--especially her appearances on "Absolutely Fabulous"--SHE IS NO JANICE! Janice is irreplaceable. Will I even watch this show anymore? It was already going down hill, but this...this changes everything. I don't even know who you are anymore, "America's Next Top Model." You've broken my heart.

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Janice is the fun one in the middle. I'm not quite sure who the skanks are on either side of her, but they do look vaguely familiar...

Pump Up the Volume

There's been such a dirth of good gossip items lately that I am forced to offer up this, from Page Six:
Christian Slater tried to score drugs Monday night — but this time, he wanted prescription pharmaceuticals.

Slater approached another customer in the men's room at Brother Jimmy's BBQ on Third Avenue.

"I was at the urinal," our dumbstruck spy said. "Christian Slater is next to me and starts talking. He says he's met this girl at the bar, he was hitting on her and he thought he could take her home. Then he asks me if I have any Cialis" — a longer-lasting version of Viagra.

When our tipster said he wasn't carrying any erectile dysfunction cure, Slater added, "It's the good stuff!" A rep for Slater said, "He was just joking around."

So, greetings and salutations to you, o hot, willing, and easy-to-pick-up-at-a-bar star groupie chick! The good news is you get to sleep with Christian Slater! The bad news is he couldn't score any e.d. drugs so you really will just be sleeping...Oh. Wait. Scratch that. What was I thinking? It should be the other way around: The good news is Christian Slater couldn't score any e.d. drugs, so now you don't have to have sex with him! Hurray! Now you won't have to spend an exhausting evening trying to gleam the cube!

You know, you have the exact same look of relief that Lindsay Lohan had when we told her!

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Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Call Me The Tumblin' Bice

Friend of Felt Up Terri R. wants it officially noted in the public record that she is shocked and outraged by the outcome of the latest "American Idol," which concluded tonight in a very special two-hour live spectacular that has been hawked mercilessly on Fox News for months. Her favorite contestant, the long-haired, sunglass-wearing, "Freebird"-singin' cokehead rocker Bo Bice, has lost his chance at American idolhood to that blonde country chick from Oklahoma.

Terri R. is so upset that she feels her entire Memorial Day Weekend may be irrepairably ruined.

Your Felt Up blogette hopes that this is not the case, and despite her intense jealousy that Terri is getting away from A-Town for the weekend, she sincerely hopes that somehow Terri will find solace in the mountains of beignets and fried-oyster po-boys she will soon be washing down her gullet with endless gallons of Fuzzy Leprechauns and Hurricanes on her fabulous romantic getaway.

Adieu, sweet prince:
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"I'm as free as a Bo, now....And this Bo you'll never change."

This Is Going To Burt Me More Than It Burts You

Burt Reynolds is the bestest celebrity in the whole wide world, second only to Liza with a Z. He bitch-slapped a CBS producer for being an insolent dumbass, which was the only right, correct, Burt-type thing to do, if you ask me:
NEW YORK (CBS) Actor Burt Reynolds slapped a CBS assistant producer in the face at a movie premiere in New York City.

The producer was asking Reynolds, 69, about his new movie "The Longest Yard" outside the premiere in Chelsea Tuesday night when the actor became annoyed.

"You don't know anything about the movie?" Reynolds asked.

The producer acknowledged he hadn't seen it or the original 1974 version. Reynolds then slapped the producer. "What ... kind of guy are you?" he asked.

Jeff Lane, a spokesman for Reynolds, said in a statement that Reynolds "playfully tapped (the producer) on the cheek, as if to say, 'Well, that's not very nice.' He was kidding."

At the end of the movie actor Adam Sandler and other stars left throught the theater's front door, there was no sign of Burt Reynolds.

The producer works for CBS NewsPath, which provides video footage to affiliate stations. No word on how the producer plans to proceed from here.

I guess by "proceed from here" they mean "how many lawyers he will contact," but I think he deserved to be slapped. It's already an outrage that they are re-making a great movie like "The Longest Yard," but then to bother a star of Burt's caliber with some young punk who knows nothing of his ouvre, well, all I can say is that he should be thanking his lucky that he wasn't at the re-make of "Deliverance."

This all reminds me of a similar incident a few years back, when intolerably loathesome MTV VJ Kennedy asked legendary Academy Award-winning (for his brilliant portrayal of Bela Lugosi in "Ed Wood") actor Martin Landau on the red carpet who he was and what he was doing at the "Mission Impossible" movie premiere, and he replied, quite irately, that it was because he was the star of the original tv show, you ignorant, annoying, Republican slut (or something to that effect) and Kennedy got all bent out of shape, like "how was I supposed to know who this old man was?" and the whole thing made me want to kill someone. And that someone was Kennedy. Because why are you talking to people on the red carpet if you know nothing about movies, including the history of the specific movie that you are covering?

Hey tv executives! How about hiring a person who actually knows something about pop culture before you send them into the trenches of infotainment? But who? Who could possibly meet all the necessary requirements? Someone with experience writing snarky gossip blogs, perhaps? Someone with a dazzling personality, encylopedic knowledge of obscure and useless celeb-related factoids, a quick wit, and a dynamite rack? Let's put our thinkin' caps on and see if we can think of someone who fits the bill...

Good Help Is Hard To Find These Days

MSNBC's "Scoop" has a little item on Stuff magazine's recent report about the chores and duties of various celebrities' assistants/lackeys/underlings/slaves:
Stuff magazine did some investigating, and came up with some of the special tasks assigned to various celeb assistants. Mariah Carey (shown at left) “employs a petite Colombian” who follows her around and whose various duties include keeping the diva’s “long skirts from touching the floor and humping around a Louis Vuitton backpack filled with bottled water,” according to the mag.

Ja Rule
keeps a comedian around to tell him jokes, the mag reports, and Ludacris has an assistant who makes sure that his Game Boy is always loaded with fresh batteries.

Your humble Felt Up blogette had her own petite Columbian, until recently. She used to do a pretty good job writing this thing, considering that English is her second language and all. But I had to fire her for forgetting to post anything yesterday, plus there was that whole assault-and-battery lawsuit thing pending. Just because I beat her about the head and face with a little cellphone. Harrumph. She should've been grateful that I got her out of Columbia! It's dangerous there!

It was getting a little uncomfortable around Felt Up HQ ever since "the incident," anyway...she kept eyeing my Blackberry with what some might describe as "fear," and it made for a poor working environment. So, I am in the market for a new personal assistant! This unique individual must be able to work well with bad puns, make damn sure my gowns don't brush the floor as I frolic with fresh puppies and kittens, and most of all, must not mind the occassional beating with a cellphone and/or PDA! Resumes should be sent via fax or email--IN ENGLISH, PLEASE!

Monday, May 23, 2005

Faux-Sensitive "Rocker" in Hooker Shock!

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Page Six is reporting that permanently bedraggeled, be-dreadlocked, and b-oring Counting Crows singer Adam Duritz has been fingered, so to speak, by a NY pimp for being the Charlie Sheen of hirsute ersatz folknik singer/songwriter dweebs :
Jailed escort agency kingpin Jason Itzler says one of his best clients was Counting Crows rocker Adam Duritz

Speaking from Rikers Island, where he's doing time on prostitution, drug and money-laundering charges, Itzler told PAGE SIX: "He used to hire four or five girls at a time and spend $10,000 or $20,000 a throw. I'm only revealing his name 'cause I don't think it's gonna hurt his career.

"I find this hard to believe," Duritz's rep told us. "He's a rock star, for God's sake. He gets some of the most beautiful women in Hollywood."

His manager's office also called Itzler's tale nonsense. Duritz may be a bit lacking in the looks department, but he's dated the likes of Courteney Cox, Jennifer Aniston and Monica Potter.

Itzler says his client roster at his NY Confidential escort agency, which raked in $500,000 a month during the year-and-a-half he was in business, included senators, mayors, mobsters, top cops and money men.

One hedge-fund star used to prop his tax return, showing he'd made $48 million, on the pillow next to a hooker's head during steamy sex sessions, Itzler claims.

It just goes to show that rich people aren't like the rest of us: If I propped my own tax return on a pillow, it would just cause me to start sobbing uncontrollably, and possibly vomit, which isn't very sexy--although I suppose there is a fetish out there for that, since there seems to be a fetish for everything.

That little tax-return story got my mind off the main point of the story: EWWWW! GROSS! People have sex with Adam Duritz! Paid or unpaid, it is the stuff of nightmares. Nightmares! I have never understood how he scores these beautiful actresses--inluding Mary Louise "I Sure Can Pick 'Em" Parker--all the time. Does he pay them, too? Because real hookers don't look so great on the red carpet? It's the only logical explanation, becausue EWWWW! GROSS! SEX WITH ADAM DURITZ!

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Friday, May 20, 2005

The Boozy, Blowsy Old Broad-way

Ooooh, I love anything having to do with divas, and today there's an interesting and insightful article in the New York Times about the three biggest divas who are currently appearing on Broadway: Kathleen Turner as Martha in "Who's Afraid of Virgiia Woolf?", Natasha Richardson as Blanche in "A Streetcar Named Desire," and Jessica Lange as Amanda in "The Glass Menagerie."

Basically, the jist of the piece is that Kathleen Turner beats the other two as Reigning Diva of the Gay White Way by being the perfect melding of actor and role, because who could possibly play a boozy, blowsy old broad like Martha better than boozy, blowzy old broad Kathleen? The author, Ben Brantley, says as much. Here are a few of my favorite quotes:
Martha is a highly sexed, self-described "earth mother" who has a talent for turning strong men into quivering boys. She is, in other words, a middle-aged, coarsened version of the fatal sirens that Ms. Turner played on screen in the glory days of her film career...

Ms. Turner makes her entrance in a boxy, unflattering suit that makes her look as frumpy as any middle-class, middle-aged professor's wife who doesn't think a lot about clothes. When she later changes into tight leopard pants and a low-cut sweater, she adds a potent shot of sex appeal to her frowziness...

Blanche, Amanda and Martha have all been around the block a few times and on progressively unsteady feet. Yet of the three actresses playing them, only Ms. Turner looks as if she has been there, done that and paid the price. Her lined face is often hard in expression but soft in contours.

Huzzah! I love that Kathleen is having a comeback (she is the only one of the three actresses to recieve a Tony nomination) and is kicking those skinny bitches asses. Hooray for coarsened! Bravo for frowzy! Let's hear it for hardness!

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Viva la Turner!

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Space(y) Balls!

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Huzzah! Now this sounds much more likely! From Popbitch, which reported sightings of:
Kevin Spacey leading Hayden Christensen by the hand around the VIP area of the "Star Wars" party in Cannes.

Hee-hee! Poor Hayden. In Spacey no one can hear you scream...

In other non-news, Friend of Felt Up and fellow blogger Seth "Carefully Selected Garbage" O. sent in this link to a funny Brit and K-Fed cartoon called "Britney Eats For Two" that is definitely worth checking out, especially if you are a fan of Federline baby Cheeto jokes, which I, for one, definitely am.

And finally, last night "America's Next Top Model" was announced on the season finale...and she is quiet be-mohawked multi-ethnic waif NAIMA! I'm sure the entire nation joined me in breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn't pushy, bitchy, overly-confident fatty-fatpants Keenyah, but I was a tiny bit sad that hardscrabble Okie Kahlen didn't make it, just because she seemed like someone straight out of a Dorthea Lange Depression-era photo of one of those poor dustbowl families sitting on the porch of a shack, with toddlers in rags holding on to their hopeless, vacant-eyed mama's tattered apron. But that's just how I am. I like my models to claw their way up from nothing! She came from Broken Arrow, Oklahoma! Plus, she seemed nice, if a bit too prone to tears. Oh, well.

I can live with Naima--she did great all season, comes from Detroit, and wasn't too annoying. Once they got rid of "My Girl Wants To Party All The Time, Party All The Time, Party All The Tiiiiiime" Brittany, all the fun went out, anyway.

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America's Next Top Model Naima!

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Maybe I Can't Handle Her Truth

Last night was the premiere of "Chaotic," the UPN reality show about Britney Spears and serial baby-maker Kevin Federline. Not since the "Vasectomy" episode of the documentary program "The Operation" have I been so simultaneously repulsed, fascinated, and riveted by a tv show.

The first episode is called "Can You Handle My Truth," and said "truth" is revealed via hand-held video footage of Brit's 2004 Onyx Hotel tour. The beginning part of the show is pre-Federline, so there's lots of talking to lackeys and underlings about their thoughts on marriage, love, commitment, and favorite sexual positions. Brit makes a few jokes about her quickie Las Vegas mini-marriage, much to the amusement of her family, I'm sure. I, for one, enjoyed them immensely.

Britney's southern accent waxes and wanes to a disturbing degree throughout the show. Sometimes it is for comic effect (she likes to make funny faces at the camera and pretend she's just a normal country gal, ya'll) and sometimes she just can't help it. It tends to go away when she's trying to be "deep," as when she attempts to analyze the meaning of a piece of artwork in her fancy ginormous London hotel suite ("I think this lady on top is lookin' for love, and this little one down on the bottom is tryin' to help her").

There is potentially valuable historic footage that might be important to later generations, as it shows what may very well be the last time Britney Spears ever worked out, as she is filmed running on a treadmill in her hotel room.

Finally, after all the sex and love chit-chat, Britney can't stand it anymore and flies in K-Fed to service her special needs. We see the Federline in all his droopy-panted glory, saying things like "love is deeper than sex...it goes a lot deeper." He gives the camera a meaningful look when he says "deeper." Ewww! Gross!

There's lots of frolicking and showing K-Fed showering, and best of all, scenes of her bodyguards and handlers basically accusing the Federline of being a gold-digging hanger-on. Hurrah for bodyguards!

The most frightening part of the show was the night-vision-lens footage of the happy couple making out in the dark. It was like a combination of "One Night in Paris" and "The Silence of the Lambs," but not in a good way.

Next week the bodyguard calls K-Fed a "punk" and warns Britney about him! Yee-haw, ya'll!

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Riddle Me This: Frank Gorshin RIP

Sad news from CNN today that Frank Gorshin, "The Riddler" on tv's "Batman," has died at the age of 72:

Gorshin's wife of 48 years, Christina, was at his side when he died Tuesday at Providence Saint Joseph Medical Center, his agent and longtime friend, Fred Wostbrock, said Wednesday.

"He put up a valiant fight with lung cancer, emphysema and pneumonia," Mrs. Gorshin said in a statement.

Despite dozens of television and movie credits, Gorshin will be forever remembered for his role as the Riddler, Adam West's villainous foil in the question mark-pocked green suit and bowler hat on "Batman" from 1966-69...

West said the death of his longtime friend was a big loss.

"Frank will be missed," West said in a statement. "He was a friend and fascinating character."

Gorshin earned another Emmy nomination for a guest shot on "Star Trek."

In 2002, Gorshin portrayed George Burns on Broadway in the one-man show "Say Goodnight Gracie." He used only a little makeup and no prosthetics.

"I don't know how to explain it. It just comes," he said. "I wish I could say, 'This is step A, B and C.' But I can't do that. I do it, you know. The ironic thing is I've done impressions all my life -- I never did George Burns."

Gorshin's final performance will be broadcast on Thursday's CBS-TV series "CSI: Crime Scene Investigation."

I once met Frank Gorshin very briefly in a lobby of a hotel I was staying at with my family in the late '80s. The hotel had a dinner theater and Frank was performing there. He was very kind and humorous, a real gent, and an old-school character actor, the likes of which will not be seen again any time soon.

I have always thought his impersonation of Marlon Brando in the criminally-underappreciated musical "Bells Are Ringing" was brilliant. It's a great performance in a really charming musical, starring Dean Martin and Judy Holliday, and now there's even more reason to check it out. So do it!
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Frank Gorshin, you shall be missed...

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

I Heart Kylie!

CNN is reporting that delightful gay icon Kylie Minogue has had to cancel the Australian leg of her fabulous "Showgirl Tour" because she has been diagnosed with breast cancer.

There aren't many "bright sides" to cancer-related stories, but if this had one, it would be that at least it's not cancer of that perfect ass, because then mankind might lose of one of the Eight Wonders of the World, and we just can't take any more natural disasters on this planet.

I'm still waiting for the Bestest Gayest Danciest Tour Ever, which I invented in my mind and continue to believe may occur in my lifetime: Kylie, The Scissor Sisters, Junior Senior, Erasure, and Deeeee Lite reformed, mc'd by Miss Liza Minelli and RuPaul! It could totally happen! If we all wish hard enough and click our ruby heels three times and sprinkle pixie dust under our pillows every single night, it could happen! And the best time ever would be ours!

Speedy recover Kylie! Remember what Ann Miller and Debbie Reynolds would say: "Leg up!"

A Sore Subject

Here's what I got:

Poor Katie Holmes' mouth is covered in cold sores. First she is forced to be Tom Cruise's beard and now this. Was she Hitler in a previous life? What has she done to deserve such a cruel fate? As an occasional cold sore sufferer myself, I can't imagine how horrible it would be to be famous and photographed with a breakout--although I must say, I've never had 'em this bad in my life. Is it because she's been rubbing her mouth against an evil Scientologist? And why doesn't Tom sport them, too? Is he immune? Or have all those high-profile liplocks been digitally created by CGI special effects wizards? It's all very confusing. And gross.

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In this picture she actually looks much improved from the stuff I saw in Star and Us Weekly, where she looked like a member of "Spinal Tap."

According to the NY Daily News "Lowdown," widely-reported manlover Hayden Christensen and serial maneater Eva Longoria were seen locking their (hopefully) cold-sore-free lips at the Cannes Film Festival. Here's the shocking report:
Has insatiable siren Eva Longoria gone to the dark side?

On Sunday night in the South of France, the least desperate housewife was spotted in full canoodle with "Star Wars" stud Hayden Christensen during the party for "Episode III - Revenge of the Sith" at the Cannes Film Festival.

A Lowdown spywitness reports from the swanky restaurant Le Baoli, the temporary satellite outpost of the New York club PM: "She was hitting on Hayden, big-time. They basically spent the whole night talking and caressing each other in a dark corner with security all around them."

Adds the spy: "They were being discreet, but she was holding his hand, and they left at the same time, around 3:30 a.m."

Although the two took care to leave separately to avoid the paparazzi, says the spy, "I'm pretty sure they hooked up."

The question is not whether Eva has gone to the Dark Side, but whether Hayden likes both sides, if you know what I mean, and I think that you do. I could make a crude light saber joke right about here, but I am a professional unpaid blogette and that would be beneath my high standards of non-journalism.

The "Lowdown" had another interesting item, this one about beloved "Scrubs" star Zach Braff acting like a boob:
Apparently "Scrubs" star Zach Braff is a breast man. During Sunday night's release party for the "Scrubs" DVD at nightspot Aer, the medically incorrect Braff told a waitress, "You have beautiful t-s."

Yesterday the waitress, asking for anonymity, told Lowdown: "I was dressed as a nurse. ... He tried to give me a DVD and he said, 'Let me put it in your breasts.' I said no, and he was like, 'I'm just kidding.'

"I think it's gross...[his girlfriend] Mandy Moore was in the other room. He was drunk - he asked for, like, 100 shots. I've been there two months, and no customer has come on like that."

Yesterday Braff's rep responded, "Zach's said some pretty inappropriate things in the past, but he always 'fesses up to them, and he said he didn't say that. But I wasn't there."

Hee-hee, even the pubclicist won't feign outrage or issue a denial. It's always those not-very-cute but appealing in a sensitive-indie-rock-loving-quiet-way tv star/"Garden State"-director types who love to fondle the boobies, isnt' it? You really got a keep a close eye on those guys. And can I just say, "Oh, woe-is-me, poor little wannabe-actress dressed in a nurse costume serving shots to tv stars got complimented on her ta-ta's, oh, boo-hoo, cry me a river?" Friend of Felt Up Ursula F. is a total Braff-atic, and she would gladly shake her money-makers in Zach's direction if the need ever arises. Come to Texas, Zach, where we are downright proud of our boobs and aren't afraid to use them! I'm pretty sure Ursula owns a nurse's uniform and you can shove whatever you want down that cleavage, I promise! OK, now I want to do the dirty light saber joke....no, no. I won't. I'm a professional, and I shall rise above....
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Monday, May 16, 2005

The Sith Hits The Fan

I have a "sith" sense about these things: Just when I was getting comfortably smug in the hope that "Revenge of the Sith" might actually be a good movie, Friend of Felt Up Terri R. directed my attention to this scathing review in The New Yorker by Anthony Lane. Here's a snippet that gives you the jist of his take on the movie:
The general opinion of “Revenge of the Sith” seems to be that it marks a distinct improvement on the last two episodes, “The Phantom Menace” and “Attack of the Clones.” True, but only in the same way that dying from natural causes is preferable to crucifixion.

If you could and hear me right now via webcam, you would know that I am pulling at my collar like Jon Stewart, when he does that Borscht-Belt-comedian schtick and says "yee-ow" in a screechy voice. The reviewer is pretty funny, although as Terri pointed out, also a probable film snob, and is sure to be so completely inundated by angry nerd email that he will wish he had never been born, but at least he has provided me with a much-needed dose of expectation-lowering reality before going in to "Sith." Sigh.

Happily, whhile I was perusing the New Yorker site, I happened upon this hysterical faux memoir by Paul Rudnick, screenwriter of "The Addams Family" movies and the author of the brilliant "Living Will" satire, which was published in The New Yorker in the wake of the Terri Schiavo debacle.

Here, he assumes the persona of a woman cursed with an unattractive child, which is his Jonathan Swift-y take on a recent article in the New York Times about the difficulties facing ugly kids (here's a link to an MSNBC summary of the piece, which has already been archived at the Times):
As she grew older, I referred to her as our new cocker spaniel, although no one really believed this, because, of course, cocker spaniels are adorable. I did, however, begin to read to Lisa, and the titles included “The Four Little Pigs” and “The Little Engine That Settled.”

Read the whole piece, it is very, very funny. And check out other works by Paul Rudnick, such as one of my favorite books, Social Disease, about the '80s New York hipster scene. It'll help take your mind off the nagging, relentless feeling that "Revenge of the Sith" is going to suck ass.

Everyone's Sithing Their Pants!

The New York Times has a review of "Revenge of the Sith" that asks the question on a nerd nation's lips:
Would George Lucas at last restore some of the old grandeur and excitement to his up-to-the-minute Industrial Light and Magic? Would my grown-up longing for a return to the wide-eyed enthusiasm of my own moviegoing boyhood - and my undiminished hunger for entertainment with sweep and power as well as noise and dazzle - be satisfied by "Revenge of the Sith"?

And then A.O. Scott, esteemed film critic, proceeded to write the best line ever to appear in the fancy-pants NY Times:
The answer is yeth.

Now, I don't want to get everyone's hopes up too high, but this Scott person actually says that "Revenge of the Sith" is a better movie than the original "Star Wars." Not better than "Empire Strikes Back," naturally, but still a pretty astounding claim.

I was hoping there wouldn't be so many awestruck, "oh-my-God-it-is-actually-really-great" reviews, because I think low expectactions are always the way to go with these things; you can only be pleasantly surprised when they are surpassed....which is much preferable to having high expectations cruelly crushed and shattered, leaving your average fan a demoralized shell, muttering darkly about "Jar Jar" or "Ewok songs."

But I can't help it! I give! "Better than 'Star Wars'?" I'm ready for the movie event of the millenium! The bestest, funnest, most moving movie-going experience of my entire life! The best thing since Diet Mountain Dew was invented!

There's no way I can be disappointed, right?

Right?
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Friday, May 13, 2005

The Boob Tube

It's a slow non-news day, I'm afraid.

Page Six reports that Jennifer Lopez outwitted PETA by taping her "View" segment a week early to avoid anti-fur protestors--which begs the question: How smart can PETA be if they can be outfox(fur)ed by J. Lo?

And, speaking of smart women and the televisual arts, Tara Reid might be making a brave jump from movie tramp boobie-exposer to t.v. whore boobie-exposer, also according to Page Six:
Tara Reid is finally embracing her reputation as one of Hollywood's hardest-partying hotties.

The buxom barfly is thisclose to signing a deal to become the next host of the E! channel's popular "Wild On!" travel show, following the bikini-clad likes of Cindy Taylor, Brooke Burke and Jules Asner.

In two weeks, Reid flies to Romania, where she will star in a horror movie called "Incubus." After that, the plan is for her to party her way through Europe for the rest of the summer, trailed by an E! camera crew.


Ironically enough, Tara has also been linked to a band called Incubus, but they had a "been there, done Tara" attitude, so they weren't really returning her calls.

In a related story, I've been following Awful Plastic Surgery's trailblazing, hardhitting journalistic investigation into Tara Reid's strangely deformed, lumpy, weird-looking stomach.

First there was this photo, a few months ago, that APS titled: Why does Tara Reid's Stomach Look Made Out Of Clay?
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And then this week, they posted this picture, which didn't really have a title, but the caption noted that "Excessive liposuction is known to cause adhesions, tightened skin and scarring":
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Since Tara is going to be spending the forseeable future on tv in a bikini, getting drunk and frottaged by Greek sailors while dancing at foam parties on Meditterranean islands, she might want to look into getting that lumpy stomach evened out. I hear the camera adds ten pounds of clay.

Thursday, May 12, 2005

Scared of the Boogie Man

Just got my Popbitch gossip newsletter, and this little nugget caught my eye:
The Fall are on Jools Holland's show next week.
Mark E Smith is the only artist in the history
of the show to have a clause in his contract
inserted to state that Jools will not play
boogie-woogie piano over any of his songs.

Too bad he thought so far ahead--the look of horror on Mark E. Smith's face when jumpy-jivey Jools chimed in with a little "Roll 'Em Pete" by Pete Johnson over The Fall's "Bingo-Master's Break-Out" would have been priceless.

Mark E Smith, happy camper:
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Jools Holland, The Boogie Man:
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Thanks a lot, Mark E. Smith, for ruining what might have been television magic.

My Stuff Is Stuff, Your Stuff Is...Worth A Small Fortune

As a local business owner, I am privy to all kinds of insider-info, like the fact that Nick Cave once bought a skirt from us, or that poor Natalie Portman used our horrific bathroom and lived to tell the tale.

I also happen to know that the Discovery Channel has a new show coming out called "Pop Nation" that sounds sort of like the "Antiques Roadshow" for those of us raised on the works of Sid and Marty Krofft. Most importantly for Austinites, the show is having a "professional appraisal" of collectible crapola at the Austin Convention Center on June 18.

The flyer I received reads:
Calling all pack rats & collectors, this is your chance to make money and BE ON TV: Bring you POST-1960s collectibles to Pop Nation TV Extravaganza. Everyone gets a professional appraisal--You may get cash on the spot.

I was hoping to be considered as an "expert appraiser," but alas I think they are just trying to get the word out to people who might know collector-nuts. Which I do. In the Biblical sense.

You have to register at the show's website in order to attend. The site says that you can only bring one item, and that the item must be able to be carried by hand--that means no life-size Jabba the Hut slave ships Chepo P. and Terri R.! It looks like they are after stuff like lunchboxes, Barbie dolls, toys, rare vinyl, and even military collectibles--as long as it is post-1960s.

Sounds like fun...or hell. I can't decide.

Spoon Fed

Local Austin band Spoon is EVERYWHERE at the moment due to music critics' collective salivation over the imminent release of their new record "Gimme Fiction."

They are in my Vanity Fair, Entertainment Weekly ("The Only Utensil You'll Ever Need"), and now this article in the New York Times. For some reason--call it Fastball Sexton Syndrome--it always feels weird to see a local band get so much national and international press.

However, I'm pretty sure this picture of them in the Times was taken at LaLa's Little Nugget--do I hear a concurrence from someone with better spacial memory than me? Or is it some place else with a year-round-Christmas-decor that is part of LaLa's immense charm?

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I'm excited that LaLa's got into the Times, although I hope this doesn't make it even more difficult to get the charmingly cranky proprietresses to serve up a Shiner-Bock-in-a-can to us pesky interlopers...

Haimed If I Do, Haimed If I Don't

Too stunned to write much today by the news that Players on MLK at Guadalupe--one of my favorite burger places in town, second only to my beloved Sandy's and the absolute best post-drunk meal-provider on Earth--may be closing to make way for University of Texas parking. If Players does actually close, this horrifying look may be in my future:

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I'm pretty sure these walking deathheads are Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, but I can't be certain.

However, maybe it's all for the best. If by some miracle Players does stay open, I might end up like Corey Haim:

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Yes, this is really one of the Coreys. Apparently, this is what happens when you get off las drugas.

O, Lord, which path shall be mine? My fate is in your hands....

Wednesday, May 11, 2005

Funny He Be. Silly He is!

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Oh, what a sad and terrible headline from WENN today! I weep at the cruel words:

"McGregor: Star Wars Fans Scare Me'"

Say it ain't so! But here's the tragic, awful report:
Scottish screen hunk Ewan McGregor is frightened by Star Wars fans and their devoted fervor for the sci-fi saga.

The 34-year-old actor, who plays the young Obi-Wan Kenobi, found working on the three prequel Star Wars movies uninspiring as they focused more on special effects than performance - but he is even less enthusiastic about the films' die hard enthusiasts.

He says, "There's this huge following, which is weird. They have big meets and conventions, and I find it all a bit frightening. Once this guy met me at a stage door when I was doing a play in London. The guy yelled, 'Obi-Wan. Do you have any advice for a trainee Jedi?' I just said, 'No, don't be so ridiculous.' It's just so weird, it really is."

Rabid Star Wars fans "ridiculous?" "Weird?" "Frightening?" This is an outrage! A travesty! This is totallly unaccept--oh, hang on. Wait a minute. Wait one gosh-darn minute! I know what's going on. Fear not, o great mass of Star Wars fans, because Ewan MacGregor is quite obviously re-enacting a scene from the yet-to-be-released-but-hotly-discussed-in-the-message-boards Episode VII: "The Enemy Within," in which Obi-Wan is beamed up from the planet Mustafar and a transporter malfunction produces an evil Obi-Wan twin!

What a brilliant idea! Oh, that Ewan. Always with the jokes! He almost had me. 'Tis that Scottish sense of humor! Whew! That was a close one...Besides, what does he really have to worry about? Star Wars fanatics are as normal as you or I. They live, they love--if you prick them, do they not bleed?

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Well, maybe he should be just a teensy bit worried...

Also, this brings up an interesting phenomenon. Friend of Felt Up Terri R. (who is no stranger to Star Wars-mania) has pointed out that while Star Trek fans are known far and wide--in fact, where no man has gone before--as "Trekkies," there is no universally-accepted term, in galaxies near or far, far away, for Star Wars fans. She came up with the rather brilliant "Fando Calrisseans." I believe I recall that Chepo P. mentioned once that some fans have tried to get "Star Warriors" into the lexicon, but luckily the Force was not with them on that one.

Any other suggestions from the Felt Up army?

Tuesday, May 10, 2005

You Had Me At "Holy Crap Renee Zellweger Is Crazy"

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Apparently Renee Zellweger's eyes are so squinty that she has finally lost her sight. And her mind:
(CNN) -- Actress Renee Zellweger and country music star Kenny Chesney -- who met in January at a tsunami relief benefit -- were married Monday on the resort island St. John in the U.S. Virgin Islands.

A spokesperson for Zellweger confirmed the pair tied the knot on the resort island, with the bride wearing a Caroline Herrerra dress for the 15-minute ceremony on the beach.

Zellweger, 36, and Chesney, 37, met at the Concert of Hope tsunami relief event in January, and fans first learned of the romance April 29 when she brought him an on-stage margarita -- and a kiss -- at a concert in Jacksonville, Florida.

It's the first marriage for both, although each star has come close to tying the knot. Zellweger was engaged to actor Jim Carrey, and Chesney reportedly called off an engagement in 1999, just weeks before the wedding.


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Seriously, has the lack of caloric intake affected her judgment? The list of horrors is endless: Jim Carrey! Jack White! And now she's run off and married KENNY CHESNEY after five months? Who is next in her line of ever-devolving grotesquerie of lovahs--Fred Durst? A dude from Insane Clown Posse? Pauly Shore? Toby Keith? How far will she sink?

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Will she end up at rock bottom--Mrs. Carrot Top?
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"You're next, baby!"

(I know I just mentioned Carrot Top in a recent post. But I have a hard time coming up with any celebrity more repulsive. I regret the lack of inspiration, but not the sentiment.

If anyone has a nomination for More Physically Repellent Star Than Carrot Top, please e-mail or post in comments. Thank you for your understanding and support.)

Monday, May 09, 2005

The Baby Blues Lagoon

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I hate to make light of a serious subject like post-partum depression, but I also can't help but think this little item from WENN is...you know, kind of funny:

Actress Brooke Shields was terrified to be left alone with her daughter Rowan shortly after her birth - because she was certain the baby was far more intelligent than her.

The Blue Lagoon star endured a hellish bout of depression after the 2003 birth of her first offspring with husband Chris Henchy, and even contemplated suicide.

But Shields was particularly disturbed when she found that she feared her tiny child.

She says, "I was terrified to be alone with her and it wasn't so much of I wouldn't know how to take care of her, it was she seemed like she knew more than I did. She seemed smarter, she seemed aware, she had this like little old person, like she's got it figured out and I felt like she knew all my secrets. I thought, 'God, you know way too much about me, ' and I wasn't even sure I liked her. So I said, 'Look, please be patient with me, because I don't know how I feel right now, but what I know is I don't think it's happy. But I promise this isn't gonna like scar you later in life.' I was talking to her like she was a therapist."

Shields' relationship with her daughter improved immensely once she sought medical help for her depression.


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"Mommie's dumb! I think I'll push her down the stairs! Hee hee! Gurgle! Burp!"

Well, Brooke, I think you were right in being deathly afraid of your baby: 1) Because I saw "The Bad Seed," the most important movie ever made for women considering having children (second only to "Mildred Pierce," "The Omen," and "Rosemary's Baby") and 2) Because there is a 99.9% chance that she is smarter than you. A lot smarter. I'm pretty sure my Corgi puppy Chuck is smarter than you, too. Possibly also ferrets, pot-bellied pigs, and goldfish.

You seem like a nice, sweet person, so don't despair, because it all worked out fine in the end. Just stay away from the staircase!

Friday, May 06, 2005

A Tale of Two Titties, By Dickinson

My love for Janice Dickinson grows deeper, day by day. When she's not having Botox injections, recalling her many, many stints in rehab, flashing her nipple, talking with loving admiration about Jon Lovitz' penis, or forcing Tyra Banks to make-out with her on "America's Next Top Model," she's filming the new season of "The Surreal Life," which means she is living the Felt Up American Dream.

Page Six had this little tidbit about her today, and thank God, because a day without Janice is like a day without sunshine (acid):
Janice Dickinson is still ripping Omarosa, her co-star on "The Surreal Life."

The orginal supermodel was overheard at Mortons in L.A. saying, "When I first saw Omarosa, I thought it was Rick James. I thought it was Mr. Ed on crack. She makes Naomi Campbell look like Mother Teresa."

This can all be a tad confusing, I know, because Janice tends to throw out names like mardi gras beads, so to help all you poor souls who don't live inside the mind of Janice Dickinson, here's a handy visual guide:

Mr. Rick James, legendary singer of "Superfreak":
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Ms. Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth, reviled contestant on the first "Apprenctice":
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Also, since she is 73 years old, it is sometimes difficult to get Janice's more retro references:

Mr. Ed:
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Crack:
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I tend to get my female celebs mixed up, but I'm pretty sure this is Naomi Campbell:
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So this must be Mother Theresa. She was a lot more fun than people give her credit for. Prettier, too:
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Hope that straightens things out for everyone!

Page Six also ran this item about a new shocking, titillating expose of the poor, desperate wannabe actors who slowly degrade their self-worth and dignity day-by-humiliating-day by dressing up in hot, uncomfortable Disney character costumes and letting small children barf on them:
The suits at Disney corporate communications are straining their mouse ears to hear more about Radar magazine's upcoming expose of the bad behavior of the costumed characters at Disneyland and Disney World.

In the piece, titled "Wild Kingdom," Radar is set to air "tales of hard-drinking staff parties, cross-dressing and trying to get Cinderella in the sack that Walt himself would probably like to have cryogenically frozen," tattles our wag.

We're told that one nervous nellie from corporate communications in Anaheim even called a local newsstand distributor and asked him to "set aside issues for Disney to buy" when the much-hyped comeback issue hits stands on May 24.

Oh, what's the big deal? Let them have a little fun--a little Plushie action never hurt anyone!

Besides, I'm sure Disney has absolutely nothing to worry about:
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Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Just Like Mariah Carey, I Love Fresh Puppies!

I know that technically Chuck Lange is not an international celebrity--yet--but he is local royalty as far as I'm concerned, so please bear with me while I present you with an array of paparazzi photos exclusively obtained by Felt Up:
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And here's my Bugsy, The Apple of My Eye, with his totally ecstatic reaction to the news that he has a new baby cousin in the family:
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Don't worry. Felt Up will resume its regularly-scheduled snark-fest in the next post. But for now...PUPPY!

Urine My Heart, Urine My Soul

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Here's some non-news you really can't use. From WENN:
Britney Spears' positive pregnancy test has been sold for charity - by an Internet casino website which claims the test was found in the bathroom bin of a Los Angeles hotel where the pop beauty recently stayed.

The 23-year-old singer announced last month that she is pregnant with her husband Kevin Federline's baby. And Goldenpalace.Com bosses say they have auctioned the stick she urinated on to confirm her pregnancy suspicions, and that proceeds from the kit will be donated to US charities The Candlelighter's Childhood Cancer Foundation and The Easter Seal Society, which helps disabled children.

A spokesman for the online gambling emporium says Ottawa, Canada's radio station New Hot 89.9 initially purchased the test from a "connection" the station has at the unnamed hotel where the kit was found.

OK. First of all, how in holy Christ do they know for sure that it's Britney's pee stick? And second of all---I'm sorry, but this bears repeating in non-graphic form, many times, with firm conviction--EWWWW GROSS!


This next one kind of warms my heart. Also from WENN:
Actor Colin Farrell has been left red-faced after 70-year-old actress Dame Eileen Atkins boasted she recently rejected his desperate requests for casual sex.

Cold Mountain star Atkins revealed the Irish lothario spent nearly three hours begging her to sleep with him, but despite his stunning looks, she turned him down because he is 42 years her junior.

She explains, "Three weeks before my 70th birthday, a simply stunning, gorgeous big film star came into my hotel room for sex without strings. I spent two and a half hours saying no, but it cheered me up fantastically. I said no, in the end because he said, 'The reason you won't do it is because your body isn't as good as it was when you were young, isn't it? But I don't care about that.'

"But I'm too proud of how I looked when I was younger. My body is still the same weight, but it's all distributed in a different way."

The actress initially intended to spare Farrell's blushes by keeping his identity secret, but her agent says, "I can confirm that it is Colin Farrell that made the advance."

Atkins and Farrell met during filming of movie Ask The Dust which hits cinemas later this year.

Oh, Colin. This makes me like you all of a sudden! Trying to woo an elder thespian like Dame Atkins. He knows, like the cast of "South Pacific," that there is nothin' like a daaaaame, nothin' in this world...there is nothin' you could naaaame, that is anything like a dame!

And finally, even though I am now a fully-registered member of the NY Post, I was only able to access the top Page Six story--the rest of the column was down due to "heavy traffic." The lead was all about the Costume Institute Gala at the Metropolitan Museum in NYC. Apparently Dolce and Gabbana threw a hissy fit because they were given a bad table, and:
Earlier on the red carpet, Jessica Simpson looked lovely in black and red, struggling up the steps in her high heels as the guest of Michael Kors. Once inside, however, she encountered dress drama when her zipper got stuck — and she ended up in the bathroom in tears.

When she was at her table, the songbird was kept busy trying to avoid being photographed with her "Dukes of Hazzard" co-star Johnny Knoxville, who kept trying to get close.

Heh. And we all know which part of Jessica he was trying to get close to. I bet he had a bottle of salad dressing in his hand, ready to go. Fat-free, of course.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

She'd Rather Eat Durst

This next tidbit gets two--count 'em two!--handy Felt Up graphics. First:

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Then the story from the Las Vegas Review Journal:
If Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey weren't officially over, they could be after this hits the headlines: she and Limp Bizkit horndog Fred Durst were all over each other in the Body English VIP booth during the Hard Rock Hotel's 10th anniversary celebration.

Which leads to this, naturally:

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Because, seriously, people: Yuck! Gag! Spew!

I can understand a lil' harmless Johnny Knoxville salad tossing--Jess is only human, after all--and even though that particular jackass is married with child, at least he seems funny and fairly good-looking. Not my type, mind you--not brooding or menacing enough--but still. Understandable. But sweet Jesus! Fred Durst? I know she's one small level above retarded, but dear God I thought she at least could see. Is she so dumb that she's lost her sense of sight, smell, and taste? Is she autistic? Anyone would be better then that piece o' crap. Pauly Shore! Carrot-Top! Tom Arnold! Corey Feldman! Mini-Me! Then in the realm of the non-famous, there's the homeless guy down the street who screams at the cars! Come on, lady! If you have to cheat, fine. Cheat. Whatever. But at least get your rocks off with anyone on the planet besides FRED DURST! AAAAAAAAAAH!

An Officer and a Dick

The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

I can't get onto the Page Six website!

Apparently the bastards at the NY Post are instituting a required registration to access their online "news" stories, and the process has crashed their server.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! No Page Six for hours and hours! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

So all I got so far is this sad, pathetic little report from the NY Daily News about Richard Gere being mean to two kids in wheelchairs:
Did Richard Gere dis two teens in wheelchairs at Saturday's White House Correspondents' Dinner in Washington?

Fifteen-year-old Brian Glassmacher - who, with his 17-year-old sister, Kailyn, suffers from a form of muscular dystrophy so rare it's known as Glassmacher syndrome - says the movie star was snippy when he was asked to pose for a snapshot.

"I really liked 'Chicago' and I wanted to meet him. I thought he would be a very nice person," Brian told me yesterday. "But I thought he was very rude. I was very disappointed."

"No," Brian answered when asked if he'll ever see another movie starring Gere.

But Newsweek senior editor Lally Weymouth - who invited Gere to the dinner - insisted that her guest was "charming and accommodating and lovely to everyone" who approached him during the long night at the Hilton Washington.

Brian - a Fairfax, Va., middle school student who is deaf - spoke with me yesterday by phone with the aid of a sign-language interpreter.

"My sister" - who is also deaf and breathes with the aid of a trachea tube - "was also there, and she really loves all of his movies - even more than I do," Brian told me. "She really wanted him to come to the table, but it was really disappointing."

According to Brian and others at his table - all guests of Internet colossus Google.com - one of his tablemates approached Gere at the Newsweek table to ask if he could walk over and pose with his two severely disabled fans.

"Maybe later," the 55-year-old Gere was quoted as saying. "I'm hard of hearing and I have a bad hip. We all have problems."

Despite a second request an hour later, Gere still didn't come over. "May I please finish my dinner?" he pleaded with another fan who came up and asked for a photo.

When the dinner ended, Gere fielded a third request and finally posed hurriedly with Brian when his wheelchair happened to be blocking Gere's path to the exit, Brian said.

Meanwhile, such celebs as Donovan McNabb and Constantine Maroulis from "American Idol" happily posed and signed autographs for the Glassmacher siblings.

Yesterday Gere's publicist, Alan Nierob, told me: "I'm sure Richard conducted himself as he always does - in the most gracious and respectable manner."

Looks like all that Buddhism is really paying off in the niceness area, huh, Richard? Could it really be true that he said "We all have problems" about two deaf, wheelchair-bound, trachea-tube-breathing, muscular dystrophy-suffering teenagers? That's kind of awesome in its incredible terribleness. I'd expect that kind of extreme uncaring narcissistic jackassness from, say, a Paris Hilton or a George W. Bush, but Richard "Dalai Lama" Gere?

Wow. Richard really is a Dick! Who knew?

Monday, May 02, 2005

Genius, Thy Name is James

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RUN, do not walk, over to the WOW Report site to read James St. James' spectacularly hysterical review of the GLAAD Awards' tribute to Ms. Liza Minelli. It is long, but every word is worth reading. Here's one of my favorite parts, about craaaaazy Brittany Murphy's introduction of Liza:
OH. MY. GOD. She managed to turn her (obviously self-written) introduction into an edge-of-your-seat, oh-no-she-didn’t, what-in-the-hell-was-that, tour de force/ homage that revealed far more about the precarious state of Brittany’s mind than her knowledge of Liza’s life.

It was Train Wreck Theater of the most glorious kind. Her excessively high-spirited gushing (i.e. “sniff, sniff,” some say) was completely over-the-top. Just bat-shit bonkers. Full of creepy, obsessive, Liza-stalking stuff that often teetered into total “needy actress/please treat this as an audition/I’ll let you beat me” territory. She was playing the role of QUIRKY STAR, BRITTANY MURPHY to the hilt. And she seemed to like how it was going. Why, sometimes it seemed the beauty of her own words, coupled with her killer sincerity, might actually bring her to tears. She was THAT TAKEN with herself.

The high point came when she felt the need to explain to us JUST WHAT MAKES LIZA SO SPECIAL. She – Luanne from KING OF THE HILL – was going to deconstruct the Liza Mystique to the most jaded, hard-core, campest queens in all of Hollywood. You know, in case they’d never thought about it before. Well, you might be shocked to know that we love her for her triumphs and tragedies, her fabulous comebacks, her kooky fashion sense, her unique vocal stylings, and because her mother was The. Judy. Garland. who publicly struggled with her inner demons for decades. And (BIG IDEA COMING) because we see Liza as a mirror image, struggling with the same demons.


And this is just the intro, people! Get ready, because:
Just as my heart couldn’t take any more excitement, Liza got up onstage and EMOTED, as only Liza can do. And HER "quirky actress" blew Brittany’s "quirky actress" right out of the water. And Liza doing "sincerity" was better than Brittany’s old "sincerity" any day.

Frailty, thy name is DIVA.

Her voice cracked, right on cue. She stumbled for the right words, as I’m sure she practiced stumbling for months. She "suddenly" remembered a story about "Mama" that was both bawdy and humanizing for both of them (hint: it takes place in A PUBLIC RESTROOM! CAN YOU IMAGINE?). She gave a great Liza guffaw at the memory. Then her eyes began dripping with tears, as she confessed how nervous she was. She TRIED to be all glamorous, you know, but gosh darn it, she’s just no good at all this speechifyin’… (PAUSE)

“But I CAN sing” she said. (WINK)

(HUGE WAVES OF APPLAUSE)

With that, a piano glided onto the stage and she launched into “What Makes a Man a Man?” a dreary and dated little ditty, sung from the point of view of a world-weary drag queen suffering from …. Oh I don’t know what the fuck s/he’s moaning about, but there is DEFINITE suffering, all right, as it DOES go on a bit.

The song goes on a bit, and, yes, so does Mr. James--and it is worth every second of your meaningless, godless life, so stop complaining about there being too many words and go read the damn thing right now! Here's the link again! No excuses! It is a delight, just like Liza With A Z herself.

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Two national treasures with two intergalactic freaks. You decide which is which. My head is still spinning from the "I'll let you beat me" Brittany Murphy thing.