Los Angeles Times...going Tabloid, to whip up sales??? Zell, command!



Samuel Zell, the head of a raft of reputable newspapers across the country, raised some eyebrows in the newsroom in recent days, when he noted that he "didn't mind if employees watched pornography while at work", as long as the titillating foray into the realms of carnal knowledge didn't interfere with productivity.

A bit of tawdry flesh and graphic simulated sex generally engenders a much-needed boost in these quarters sure to jump-start the day, so I applaud the guy (yeah, right; and, I have swamp land in Florida you may be interested in acquiring, too).

Apparently, the newly-installed top dog at Tribune had a surprising request on the heels of this office memo,

"If any of you find any good (porn) sites, let me know..."

Ah, it's always encouraging to learn the boss is a horn dog; it's so much easier to fathom a way to fast track up the career ladder, ya know?

Personally, I'm not about to share any of my "pleasure product"; after all, those endless late-night searches - googling a little here, probing a little there - are sexually strenuous, downright exhausting, at times.

Forget about sloppy seconds, too - Sam!

Zell's ideas about how to inspire and spark worker motivation are novel, as well.

According to reports from prudish employees eye-witness to events, the whip-snapping print King actually facilitated salty language in a zesty effort to "shake things up" at the office.

A complacency had set in, argued Zell, so it was time to stir the pot - passion on all fronts, eh?

But management fired a subtle warning shot across his bow, and subsequently, may have taken the wind out of his sails.

"Sam (Zell) is a force of nature, but we still have expectations at times as to what is correct in the workplace," a rep asserted.

The impression one gets? Zell is pretty cheesy, alright; out of line, perhaps.

The staff are wisely establishing a "paper trail".

One writer alleged - "they laughed off" - Zell's lusty remarks. "...our bigger concerns are about jobs," he pointedly added.

Zell obviously expects "the sensualizing up" be reflected in the column inches - and ultimately - to impact the revenue logs, as well.

Otherwise, a handful may be "out of ink" at the Tribune, shown the door.

On the horizon at Zell's Inferno?

Right now, Zell is not impressed with the status quo.

In fact, when a reporter asked the company "fireman" to expound on his ideas about journalism and the view points he sought to put across, he allegedly responded by swearing at the startled innocent.

However, Zell had no qualms putting forth the notion that revenue in the specific area of the "Gentleman's Club" arena, be plumbed with virile vigor.

To add a splash of imagery to the discussion, he allegedly tossed in some slang terms relating to female anatomy, to hammer home the idea.

Well, men are visual, aren't they?

With the trend towards tabloid journalism, and snippets of McNews - USA Today Style - one can only imagine what awaits between the turn of the phrase.

Page 3 girly shots along the lines of the Fleet Street Rags?

You betcha, if it will Zell - er - sell!

Penelope...Reese Witherspoon release, resonates on deeper level!


Well, I dickered about posting on "Penelope" - the new release from Summit - which premiered last night at the Landmark Theatre in West Los Angeles.

On the surface, the idea is offensive.

A baby girl is born with a "pig face" arising from an age-old curse.

In an intriguing scenario, stringent conditions must be met by a descendant of the bloodline before the spell can be lifted.

For the most part, the feature tends to focus on the shame of the stigma that has been thrust upon the well-positioned upper crust family in the community at large.

In this sort-of - "black comedy" - the producers have devoted an inordinate amount of screen footage beholden to the bold-faced efforts of the parents to shield - hide? - their sensitive daughter from the prying eyes of a society they perceive as cruel and heartless.

Tasteless piggy jokes abound amid a round of endless off-the-wall sight gags - which, at times - repulse. Although the better judgment of the audience tends to lean on the side of caution with regard to such repugnant material - at times, the theatre-goer can't help but emit a jittery giggle or loud guffaw - such is the power of the story-telling devices here which compel a reaction.

The tale tends to be - quite simply - superficial, silly, and earnestly off-beat. In a nutshell, Penelope is a commercially-focused Hollywood piece of crap.

It appears that on a basic level, the filmmakers are not only "pooh-poohing" the exaltation of physical beauty by sentient beings in the civilized classes - but, in particular - are pointing the finger at those unsavory few who pine for it ad nauseam in our decidedly hedonistic society.

The tale of "Penelope" - albeit here, slightly twisted - is rooted in Ancient Lore.

In fact, in Homer's - Odyssey - PenĂ©lopĂȘ was the faithful wife of Odysseus who kept her suitors at bay in his long absence until she is rejoined with him at last. The name has been associated with faithfulness; so clearly, Summit's production is a facet lethally-laced with poetic license.

On a more insightful second glance, "Penelope" is essentially a cautionary tale with an underlying notion that resonates: peer beyond the surface, don't second guess people, and - most importantly - be faithful to and accept yourself.

The truth will set you free.


The Vatican Penelope
A Roman marble copy of an Early Classical 6th-century Greek sculpture.

Moscow Chill...entertaining low-budget film! Norman Reedus charms!


As far as low-budget films go - "Moscow Chill" - is a stunner.

Hollywood should sit up and take notice.

For a cool million, the producers have turned out a delightful little popcorn movie.

A lot of the credit goes to the charismatic young lead actor, Norman Reedus (co-star American Gangster).

But, there are three stars in the film - shot in Russia - Reedus, the cinematographer, and a circus bear.

At a Q & A in Beverly Hills - director Chris Solimine held the audience in his thrall - with a couple of hilarious production tidbits.

For example, he laughingly recalled that when the circus bear first signed on the dotted line, the wranglers assured the crew that "Misha" would behave.

For good measure, they were promised a security detail would be on hand, to ensure a smooth lensing of the scenes without mishap.

"Empty promises. They lied," blurted out the good-hearted auteur.

In fact, one day the bear escaped from the cage and trotted down an old country road, with distressed crew members in hot pursuit.

The end result?

There were a few costly shooting delays and a migraine headache or two to boot.

To make matters worse, Mr. Solimine was bitten by a dog (featured in the film); subsequently, the filmmaker was in constant fear he'd wake up one fine morning with a nasty bout of rabies and foaming at the mouth.

Lead actor - Reedus - did not manage to stay out of harm's way either.

One wild and crazy night - when he sauntered out on-the-town to take in some local color - he got more than he bargained for, too.

After a gang of corrupt police officers caught Reedus pi**ing in the street - they proceeded to "toss him" in a Datsun - and relieve him of the meager twelve bucks in his wallet.

"It was worth it. 'Cause, I filmed the whole thing on my cell," he chortled to amused theatre-goers out to support the film.

Heh, has that precious footage ever been aired on YouTube?

Perhaps the funniest incident occurred when the prop master was forced to admit a gun to be used in a key scene was not brought to the location that day.

When the production teamed approached an on-duty police officer about offering up his firearm as a substitute to bag the shot - an official started to argue point-blank that it was illegal for a Russian to surrender his gun.

A fellow officer standing nearby - shrugged - and handed over his gun without any qualms.

Yup, it appears that folks are enamored of the movie biz in Russia, too.

In fact, "Moscow Chill" was financed by the Russian Government.

No doubt - they'll realize a tidy return on the savvy investment - Studio Moguls willing!

If so, it was not without some sweat and tears, though.

After all - post-production was a real b**** - according to Solimine.

On the heels of the nightmare, he had words of advice for young filmmakers, too.

"Never shoot a scene with four smokers. The shot is not only difficult to match, but negatively impacts the lighting," he warned the rapt audience.

When asked how the project came into fruition, he noted that the original script was slated for a big-budget release. But - as it wallowed in pre-production blues - the first handlers grew weary.

Film 101 stuff, eh?

When Solomine got on board, he thought a creative avenue of thought, might nudge the production forward, to green light status.

Can you make it less commercial, he queried the DP.

"I'll make it so no one comes to see it," he cackled in response.

Well, it's doubtful that will be the film's demise; after all, the cinematography is worth the price of admission, alone.

In fact, the scenes are breathtaking.

Each frame is artfully painted with a lush palette; at times rich - but gritty and down 'n dirty - when it needed to be.

There was a lot of thoughtful attention to visual detail which impressed me thoroughly, too.

And, I am a tough critic!

The set-ups were outstanding. No pedestrian shots here.

In fact, I was constantly amazed at their variety, as scenes flowed from one to the next seamlessly.

Solomine has a keen eye, is quite talented, and shows a lot of potential ripe with possibilities.

Also, Norman Reedus gave a stand-out performance.

Tough - yet vulnerable, at times - his characterization resonated in every fiber of his being.

Indeed, he has a captivating screen presence, waiting to bust out.

This kid is going places!

The plot for "Moscow Chill" is charming and believable, too.

An altruistic computer whiz uncovers the tale of Prometheus.

According to legend, the Titan - known for his wily intelligence (who stole fire from Zeus) - gave the precious gift to mortals for their daily use.

On the heels of this history lesson, the lad decides to become a modern-day version of the Ancient Greek. But, chooses a path along the lines of the Robin Hood character, who stole from the rich and gave to the poor.

In the side-splitting scene opening scene - we first encounter the naive lad manipulating keys on a computer in the back of a taxi - which causes scads of bills to fly out this way 'n that from local ATM machines around the city.

Startled passers-by - who can not believe their good fortune - rush in to snatch up the ubiquitous cash no questions asked.

Unfortunately, the Reedus character gets caught.

However - his unique skills do not escape the attention of a master criminal overseas - who hatches a plot to rescue the fresh felon with the express intention of corralling his hacking skills.

In a nutshell, he's contracted to run an embezzlement scam on a grand scale.

But, there is a lot of mayhem along the way!

Although Moscow Chill is not earth-shattering or original in concept - the independent feature does have a heart - which beats to a different drummer.

However, the film is flawed.

The script itself is a tad loose and needs to be tighter.

I expect that some judicious editing may resolve that problem if the producers are capable of standing back and giving "Moscow Chill" a realistic once-over with a discriminating eye.

There are a couple of minor production snafus, as well

In one key scene - there appeared to be some powder or chalk on the shoulder of one of the lead players - which was also distracting.

Where the heck was wardrobe?

In a turn-around shot - the offensive blotch - was nowhere to be seen.

Continuity, folks!

I giggled when I noticed a subtitle error, too.

In one prison shot, a guard makes a curious announcement over the loud speaker.

"Prisoners return to their cells."

Well - since he was addressing the prisoners directly - the commands should have read "to your cells" instead.

Picky, I know.

But if a filmmaker wants to go "Hollywood" - and play in the big leagues - he's got to get it right.

There is no distributor yet, but I expect Solomine will land one in the near future.

Until then, rely on bootleg copies, selling straight from the streets of Moscow.

Or, tune in to Moscow TV via satellite, where the little flawed gem has been broadcasting in the local market in recent months.


Theatre-goer recalled Reedus in earlier film...

Daniel Day Lewis...reveals bit**y side at Oscars; excuse me!

One more question like that...and I'll hit you with my purse!


Yup, I'm a big fan of Daniel Day Lewis.

Was pulling for the charismatic thespian to win the coveted Golden Statuette, too.

Fine actor...skilled, competent.

At the drop of a hat, it's easy to snatch a superlative from the great beyond to describe the guy's talent, wouldn't you agree?

But, I was a little taken aback by the actor's backstage behavior at the Oscar extravaganza, last Sunday eve.

When a member of the media innocently asked what he did in his spare time, he lashed out at the reporter,

"None of your f***ing business..."

Granted, he ended the surprising little hissy fit with a wicked little smile - as if to say - just kidding, fella!

Nonetheless, he gave the impression of being such a temperamental "Queen".

Until this incident, I was under the impression from screenings of his work, that he was all "man", through and through.

Obviously, not. But, it's a testament to his work that he's managed to pull off such a clever ruse to date.

In view of your vulnerability to the elements, Daniel, maybe you should stick to the scripted word?

Johann Wolfgang once pined,

"Behavior is a mirror in which every one displays his image."

Chicago 10...documentary distorts truth. Just the facts, man!


Were the protests at the 1968 Political convention headed up by a band of Yippies symbolic of the conflicts of values that characterized the late sixties?

In Chicago 10, a film screened at the California Plaza recently, a rapt audience watched in awe and disgust as the documentary of the alleged events of the 1968 Political Convention in Chicago, unfolded on the screen.

Adeptly facilitating an ambitious mix of CGI animation and archival footage, Director Brett Morgan chronicled the events surrounding the incident where protesters denied permits to demonstrate, repeatedly clashed with police, and the most vocal perpetrators - Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, and others - were prosecuted eight months after the melee, pursuant to the Anti-riot Act.

The documentary has been being billed as a parable of hope, courage, and ultimate victory.

It is far from that.

Actually, it's a cautionary tale about clashing wills, human error, and blind ambition - all rolled into one.

True, some of the images are shocking - close-up shots of cops beating on peaceful demonstrators - definitely not for the squeamish.

As the character in the film - "Cool Hand Luke" - said, "What we have here is a failure to communicate".

There were a number of glaring mistakes made on both sides.

For instance, the City of Chicago should have granted the permits; after all, denying peaceable assembly in the U.S. is un-American.

But the Chicago 8 and their merry band of followers erred too; the hapless protesters should have vacated the park at 11 p.m., and postponed the event, until the proper permits were secured from the city.

Although everyone was rooting for Hoffman - myself included - it was painfully obvious from the footage that he and Rubin acted immaturely, stupidly.

What adult or teenager is not painfully aware of the consequence of disrupting a courtroom?

None of their antics in his Honor's presence or the judicial environs contributed to the cause at all.

Yes, the Judge acted outrageously. But a complaint to the Commission on Judicial Performance, or a petition for removal from the bench - even a request for change of venue - may have been the right way to go.

Yes, Judge Hoffman (no relation to Abbie) erred, too.

Instead of denying Bobby Seale (Co-Chair of the Black Panther Party) his right to represent himself without explanation - the court would have been wiser to have followed one of two courses of action: either warn Seale about the perils of self-representation, then permitted the defendant to proceed if he elected to do so, or - taken the matter under submission, written up a legitimate ruling, citing the valid points of law, then duly noted for the record that Seale was entitled to appeal the ruling in the proper forum.

Instead, we witnessed Seale being gagged and bound to his chair after his wild, disruptive protests about rights' violations aggravated the Judge...probably one of the most shocking and blackest moments in American History.

There were a number of humorous moments in the film, too.

For instance, Allen Ginsberg appeared on the witness stand and was asked by a prosecuting attorney to explain his use of a word referred to as "um" which he used to relieve tension.

Later in the film, when the demonstrators were facing a tense situation in the march, Ginsberg is seen emoting "um" into a loudspeaker - which was hilarious.

Anyone practicing Buddhism or Yoga will confirm that the sound of "om" should be a joyous sound, one that connects with the inaudible life stream; in this instant case, it was more like an off-key drone from an old test pattern on a fifties-style black and white TV.

One viewer thought the documentary was "too gimmicky".

For example, the director used CGI animation to depict the courtroom scenes.

The effect, in my estimation, was very effective for one reason: it suggested the drama unfolding in the courtroom was cartoon-like, unreal - compared to the brute reality of the archival footage of the street - where heads were being cracked and bodies were being dragged into paddy wagons.

Another moviegoer pointed out that there were two events, actually.

First, there were the demonstrations at the 1968 Political Convention, then eight months later, the trial of the Chicago 8.

The way the footage was edited, reality was blurred - which poses the question - was this a clever manipulation by the director?

In fact, when a woman asked in the Q & A what his response was to claims that his movie was "agitprop", for the first time he squirmed in his chair, was at a loss for words, and struggled to respond.

As a character recently said in the movie "The Year of the Dog" - “guilty".

My Art Professor told me once that when you view a work of art - be it a painting, or a film - that you must first step back and determine first what it was that "washed over" you.

In this instant case, the director used his editorial control, and seductive images, to manipulate history.

Just the facts, man.

Please Note:
This review was written several months ago before the producers secured distribution. I have re-posted the item in view of the fact wide-screen release is slated for Friday, February 29th, 2008.

Hillary Clinton...losing grip; looney tunes, next?

Many faces of Eve - um - Hillary...


How a person acts under stress is not only a test of their mettle, but a good indicator of their character...

In the past week, it's been painfully obvious that wily Hillary has been on the edge, ready to topple over into oblivion.

Or, at a minimum, about to become a National Joke.

Her overall flip-flopping - from screechy emotional highs to dark sultry lows - has been negatively impacting the voters, too, no doubt. No wonder!

One starry night, the lagging Democratic candidate gushed that it was an honor to be in the race with Obama (surely she wasn't referring to the human race, was she?).

But, on the heels of that curious truce, there was an about-face. Yup, a day or two later, Bill's better half was flailing her arms about wildly and screaming like a banshee in heat. Uh-huh, Hillary's angst revved into high gear, when she stumbled across a flyer on Health Care, Obama had the audacity to breathe life into.

If that wasn't startling enough, a few surreal hours later, the Senator was traipsing about a wide stage wild-eyed at a rally, embracing the heavens, and mocking the coming of America's new Messiah.

That Dem Dame is sure losing her grip.

Hillary has pranced, writhed - literally clawed her way - in a bold-faced effort to stake her claim on the nomination; all-the-while, tryin' to fathom a way to overcome the swelling momentum of the Golden Boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

Was the color bar on the TV screen screwing up the other night, or was Senator Clinton literally turning "blue" in the face at her latest dis-organized rally?

No matter.

Why, Obama's turning into a regular Teflon Dem; after all, none of the sh** she's been hurling at the wall has managed to stick or even impact much.

Ironically, her curious conduct has landed her in deep doo-doo, too.

"Let's talk about the issues," she has cried out ad nauseam on the campaign trail, with bitterness seething deep within the cockles of her soul.

But, what has she done in reality?

Of course, the frustrated delegate monster, has meandered the other way.

Like at last night's debate, for example.

Throwing caution to the wind, she ventured off precariously on a tangent about Saturday Night Live skits; then, wondered aloud - deadpan to a stunned audience - if someone might rustle up a pillow for poor Obama.

Why, so he can snuff the life out of her?

Or, maybe she'll toss in the towel, at long last...

Hopefully, there are just a couple of rounds left in 'er, for the voters' sake.

Oh, she'll "go down", alright.

Otherwise, the Democrats will have to haul her off the campaign trail, kickin' and screamin'...right into a straight jacket, eh?

As they say at the end of a Looney Tune,

"That's all folks!"

Hillary Clinton...Bill Clinton campaign; Promo Photo

Merging of two strange bedfellow candidates...


Some pundits were quite upset yesterday when it came to their atttention that at rallies, Hillary and Bill, have been passing out buttons urging voters to plug down their votes for the "Clinton's"...as a team!

"Why," one astonished political analyst lamented, "...asking voters to cast a ballot for Mrs. Clinton is wrong. She's running in the race as Senator Clinton, after all."

Others, stand amused on the sidelines, theorizing what die-hard promoters of "change" have been predicting all along...

A vote for Senator Hillary Clinton is not a vote for change, but rather, amounts to casting a ballot for the same old same old.

You know what I mean?


Bill's favorite Hillary button...

Heidi Klum...blond bimbo babe, has chocolate fetish!



On the red carpet on Oscar Night, Billy Bush of Access Hollywood managed to snatch Heidi Klum out from under the clutches of competing newsies nearby, who were circling in for the kill...

The stunning designer dress, and the fabulous "do", were obviously a facade, 'cause when she opened her yap, her total image went amok, flew south...if you know what I mean.

Kind of a mind-shattering moment of truth, ya know?

For instance, when the cutesy media reporter noted that actor George Clooney (standing in back of the dynamic duo) was capable of filling the shoes of "Gorgeous George", her face screwed up a little at first - at which point - she quipped,

"Well, if he was dipped in Chocolate, perhaps."

In the future, just stand there, Heidi; witty doesn't work for you. In fact, the whole English language thing may be a good idea to avoid altogether, as well.

If anything, you've managed to revive the whole concept of the bodacious blond bimbo babe to perfection!

Hello, anyone home?


Klum in a skitzo moment?

Barack Obama...the first "Black Experience"; say what?


In Barack Obama's recent autobiography, he allegedly recalls the days of his youth on campus at Occidental and - lo and behold - his first "Black Experience".

Say, what?

Just what does he mean exactly?

A little rappin' in the hood? Or maybe it just amounts to...a handful of rousing Gospel moments at the local House of Worship, with the Brothers and the Sisters, in tow?

Maybe, it means just kickin' back in a sloppy undershirt and jeans, under a ripe old moon, chomping on some grits, fried chicken, and black-eyed peas?

I'm baffled...

So, with a nod and a grin to Mort's Delicatessen in San Francisco (Post; 02/17/08), I am offering a tasty bag of fresh chocolate chip cookies to the person who can best describe in - "colorful, insightful, and glorious detail" - just what, pray tell, a "Black Experience" is.

Contest Rules: be authentic!

Enthusiastic participants may either post 'em here or e mail 'em privately to:

i.julian@yahoo.com

West Hollywood Post office...newly-named; 69 anyone?



Thought somethin' wuz up!

At the West Branch of the Los Angeles Postal Office - where I rent a private mailbox - the clerks were fussin' about the past week.

Uh-huh.

Spanking new letter boxes were installed out front on the postage-sized lot, just a scant couple of days ago, in an aesthetically-pleasing fashion.

Then, the curb near the entrance of the Postal outlet was slapped with a pristine shade of white paint to upgrade a welcome "temporary parking" zone where patrons can "stop and drop" correspondence ready to go out with the evening batch of mail.

When that task was completed to satisfaction, a posse of postal workers then proceeded to inflate sassy sprays of festive balloons inside the front foyer, while another illustrious gaggle of staffers erected a new sign on the stone facade street-side under a mysterious drop cloth out-of-view.

Later, officials ceremoniously announced at a festive press conference, that the Los Angeles West Branch of the Post Office (situated in what is affectionately known as gay gulch) would henceforth be known evermore as the West Hollywood Postal Service.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?

But, not everyone was filled with joy at the unveiling.

"I'd almost given up," confessed City Councilman Jeffrey Prang. "It's been a lengthy process."

In fact, the whole snafu had been causing a lot of inner angst for residents of West Hollywood (Boys Town), a city which was incorporated back in 1984.

In spite of its youth, the origins and boundaries of the city are a mystery to most.

However, the few who caught the feature film - LA CONFIDENTIAL - are keenly aware that this neck of the woods has been notoriously sounding off for a few decades. Indeed, the square-mile town was sort-of an "outlaw" dig in the olden days - where anything went - and probably did.

For years, West Hollywood City Officials sought to have the West Branch named in honor of the infamous enclave. If anything, to at least resolve what was perceived by many, as a growing identity crisis. But, to no avail.

Indeed, the process dragged on for so long that City Counsel members figured the request must have "gone for lost" in the dead letter box in a remote part of the U.S. Post Office in downtown LA LA LAND somewhere.

But finally, the powers-that-be gave their blessing.

Ironically, I find it curious that a neighborhood predominantly known for being populated by socially active gay men has a zip code (90069) that ends in a tantalizing number "sixty-nine".

After all, the scintillating numbers are often associated with a kinky sexual act enthusiastically engaged in by those of a same-sex persuasion. I gather!

Yes, getting male - um, mail - "franked" in West Hollywood has an entirely different twist to it!

It's highly doubtful Uncle Sam raised any bone of contention over it.

By the way, a number of elected officials from the West Hollywood City Council were on hand for the ubiquitous unveiling.

In the midst of the hoi polloi, for instance, the West Hollywood Mayor - John Duran - was inclined to mingle.

In a moment of levity, he quipped with a wide smile,

"I'm not the Mayor of Los Angeles."

We know that, John.

That Mexican guy - with a name that starts with "Villa" - throws up his feet on the desk downtown at City Hall around siesta each day, not toi.

A day later - long after the fanfare has subsided - the changes don't appear to have been that earth-shattering, though.

The Post Office is a tidier-looking structure, tarted up in an eye-catching shade of ultra-marine blue with an oh-so-subtly highlighted accent trim which is beguiling, for sure.

And yes, the premises now boast a well-manicured flower bed which push up colorful pansies which add a freshness to the once run-down lot which had been an eyesore for years.

But, some things never change.

Mail I was expecting a couple of days ago has yet to nosey its way into mailbox - in spite of the fact I was assured by a contractor - "the check is in the mail".

Oh well, the U.S. Postal service is not called "snail mail" for no good reason!

The Apprentice...you're fired? Not!


Well, the "Donald" trumped my wildest expectations this week on the NBC reality show - "The Apprentice" - by virtue of a charitable decision he rendered in the boardroom.

For the first time ever, the "boss" was reluctant to level his bushy eyebrows, point a liver-warted finger at an aspiring exec, and snarl - "You're fired!"

We wuz robbed, too!

And one lucky devil escaped the axe.

But, I sort-of saw it comin'; couldn't blame the mercurial entrepreneur for his surprising change of heart, one bit!

The whole sorry scenario started when a couple of team members started sluggin' it out early on in last week's segment.

"Touch me and I'll punch you," hissed a young African-American female contestant to the project manager (rather a fuss-budget himself) just shortly on the heels of "firing her a**.

And, when the naughty nitty spat out derogatory remarks about her rival - and dragged his kids into the fray, wouldn't 'ya know it - the Brit was truly "hot to trot".

Quite a shameless boob-tube moment, even as far as reality TV shows go.

Out on the public turf - the two hurled biting insults at each other - as a throng of startled tourists and other hangers-on watched from the sidelines perplexed and choking on disbelief.

In fact, the incident caused a prize fighter - also competing for the big charity bucks on Trump's titillating show - to utter in disgust,

"She was nasty. That was ghetto stuff."

Ouch!

In the boardroom, when asked to recall the day's events, the project manager at the center of the dispute let into the sulking woman.

"She's low-life trash," he lamented adamantly.

From there, the sh** spiraled downhill fast!

Surely the "Donald" must have peeked at the reels of footage shot earlier in the day at Central Park?

If so, what a poker face he wears as a mask to the world!

Unfortunately, bad behavin' aside, Trump was forced to take a look at the tally sheets first (from the day's challenge) before rendering a decision about who to fire off the show.

As fate would have it, the spastic troubled apprentice ship scored so high, Trump was forced to pass on firing a "rotten to-the-core" person who warranted a reprisal from the big honcho in the Executive Suite.

So, the kingpin of high finance in control of his own monopoly empire, was faced with a difficult task.

How to fire an individual from a team when all of its members had been respectful of each other? Why, the gang even steered away from the usual bad-mouthing and the cutting-of throats that is generally requisite game-play on the Apprentice.

They don't say - "nice guys finish last" - for no good reason!

In fact, when given the opportunity to save their own skins, no one on the motley crew dared point an accusing finger at a fellow task master, either.

Indeed, no one was inclined to sink this shiperoonie, mate!

When each was offered a simple solution - the opportunity to resign, for instance - and avoid unpleasantness with little ado, all held fast.

It was nay on all fronts. Each stuck to his or her gun.

All for one and one for all!

The world stood still for a moment for the irascible Mr. Trump.

Suddenly, and without warning, he softly informed the anxious team,

"No one is getting fired tonight."

Yeah, the Corporate world shuddered for a moment or two.

Then it was business, as usual. See 'ya next week!

You know, I used to think Mr. Trump was a real jacka**. And, I've never been a fan of his "do", either.

No more!

In one shining moment - by virtue of one charitable act - the man displayed remarkable wisdom, humanity, and compassion at the drop of a hat.

Good on you, Mr. Trump.

Now, if you could just fathom a way to overhaul a couple of those gaudy, over-decorated Hotels you own...

Hillary Clinton...words are cheap, eh? Maybe not!

But, hand gestures worth a thousand words?


Ironically, on Valentine's Day, Hillary slung an arrow in Obama's direction...

Reflecting on her opponent's speeches on "change", wily Hilly harped,

"Words are cheap."

On the contrary, Ms. Clinton...

In the beginning, there was the "word".

And, throughout history, many world leaders have proven that words - indeed - have "power".

Maybe, what you meant to say was,

"Talk about change is cheap"?

A better choice of words would have been,

"Effecting change, in the hour of need, is the real test of leadership."

Any openings for speech writers in your camp?

Well, maybe I'll forgoe on the inquiry...

If you believe "words" are cheap, you obviously don't pay writers well!

Super Delegates...a, what? The prize is a cookie, if you know!


I was strolling along Golden Gate yesterday when I noticed a hilarious offer on a sign hangin' in the breeze in front of Morty's Delicatessen.

It read,

"A free cookie for anyone who can tell us what a Super Delegate is..."

Are you smarter than a fifth grader?

If you're a cookie monster, and you've figured out the whole snafu over Delegates - in both the minor and the major leagues - this is your chance to score big!

By the way, according to yelp.com, Morty's whips up the tastiest Reuben Sandwich in all of San Francisco.

Info: www.mortysdeli.com

Enjoy!


How 'bout a cookie for every super delegate, too? If you can figure out where they're hidin'...

Don't try...quote!


Don't try
To try is -
To stutter at doing


Julian Ayrs
Chocolate Buddha
Collection of Poems
1970

San Francisco Classic Car Show; exotic, fun, jalopies!


That was quite a parade of Classic Antique cars purring down Market Street yesterday afternoon.

Led by an official-looking motorcade, with lights flashing - halting traffic and causing quite a stir among the tourists, by the way - even local residents were inclined to slow down on their lunch hour, take a gander, and offer up hoots and hollers when the beaming auto enthusiasts chose to wave their way.

There were old caddies with long ubiquitous fins, period Classics with wide articulated hoods, and a handful of rare one-of-a-kind stylized jalopies with jump seats out back.

A snazzy looking Buick, detailed in fire engine red, was a big favorite...as was an old Studebaker painted to perfection in a blinding pastel pink.

The Vettes wowed 'em, too; as did a couple of souped-up muscle cars which roared by to loud applause. A few "old ladies" - grand touring limousines from the turn-of-the-century - caused a hush in the crowd. An elegant ride, man!

The chrome - polished to perfection - dazzled 'em in the bright mid-day sun. Why, there was enough of the piping on hand to sink a battleship.

Of course, the street round-up was a percursor to the Antique Auto show, which is held over Presidents' weekend each year. (February 15th thru 18th)

The popular event is sponsored by a San Francisco Chapter of a Model A Ford Club.

The chapter here is a non-profit organization founded to celebrate the preservation and use of the historic Model A Ford automobiles built by Henry Ford during the years of 1928 through 1931.

Through the Membership, and annual shows, the club endeavors to encourage the preservation of the Model A Ford.

Today, fifty years later, wild enthusiasm for the "little charmers" is still going strong.

In fact, members currently on the rolls, own and operate a number of Model A styles...including Tudors, Pick-ups, Fordors, Roadsters, Phaetons, and Woodies. Because of the range of body styles, availability of parts and know-how is accessible through club members. In sum, being a club member is a good way to maintain a Model A in operative condition.

In addition to the car display at Fisherman's Wharf over the weekend, other events are planned, which the public is invited to participate in.

For example:

"The Night Tour" of Alcatraz
(4 pm Saturday February 16th)

The Alcatraz Night Tour provides an intimate, engaging experience. This tour includes a personally narrated boat tour around the island; guided tours from the dock to the main prison building; and the entertaining “Doing Time: The Alcatraz Cellhouse Tour” ; as well as a variety of special programs and presentations offered only at night. Enjoy a sunset silhouetting the Golden Gate Bridge and breath-taking views of San Francisco as night falls. A truly exceptional experience.
Voted “Best Tour of the Bay Area.”

Note:

Mandatory pre-registration is required for this event due to space limitations.
Transportation will be on a motorized cable car provided by the Cable Car Charters.
Guests are instructed to board the cable car inside Pier 45 at 4 pm.

Saturday Nite Social
(7:30 – 9:30 pm Saturday February 16th)

After the Car Show, the public is invited for hors d'oeuvres, beverages, and good conversation at Boudin’s Bistro overlooking Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 45.
One complimentary non- alcoholic beverage will be provided.
No Host cocktails will be available.

Tour of the School of Industrial Design
(11 am – 1 pm Sunday February 17th)

Learn all about automotive design and view the classic car collection of the celebrated Academy of Art University.

The Tour will be led by Tom Matano, Director of the School of Industrial Design. Transportation will be on a motorized cable car provided by Cable Charters. Guests are advised to board the cable car inside Pier 45 at 10:30 am.

San Francisco Transportation Tour
(10 am Sunday February 17th)

Begin with a ride on a historic streetcar, from Fisherman’s Wharf along to the Embarcadero, up Market Street, then along the Church Street Line to the Geneva Car Barns. Here club enthusiasts will be able to tour the paint shop and learn about the rich history of San Francisco’s Municipal Railway. Nathaniel Ford is expected to join in the festivities (Muni chief for the tour).
There will be a LRV (light rail vehicle) ride to Powell and Market Streets, where the guests will transfer to a cable car for a ride to the Cable Car Barn. At that historic location, the curious will be able to see what makes the cable cars run and tour the Cable Car Museum.
After that little foray, there will be a ride on to Fisherman’s Wharf and the close of the Classic Car Show.

Farewell Gathering – The Grand Finale
(3 – 5 pm Sunday February 17th)

As the Car Show comes to a close, the public is invited to join the organizers for one last afternoon for hors d’oeuvres, drink, and a farewell visit with all the participants in the annual event. The whole "gang" will gather at the Boudin Bistro.
One complimentary non-alcoholic beverage will be provided.
No Host cocktails will be available.

Northern Italian Late Nite Dinner at Fior D’Italia
(8:30 pm Sunday February 17th)

After the close of the car show, those hearty souls who remain, may wish to join the auto club members for a late nite supper at America’s oldest Italian restaurant...a second chance to enjoy the ambiance, glamour, and magic of the popular watering hole. For over 120 years, the Fabulous Fior has created and maintained a delectable cooking experience - all-the-while - keeping the cuisine true to its Italian roots.

Departing Brunch/The Final Farewell
(9 am Monday February 18th)

The morning after the Car Show closes, there will be a Monday morning brunch and a final visit with other Classic Car Show participants. Auto enthusiasts (probably somewhat ragged by now) will gather at the Tuscan Inn for a final 2008 meal together.

Drive Tour – the Presidio
(11 am Monday February 18th)

There will be a final drive through the Presidio of San Francisco. The members will take a loop through the Main Post, Crissy Field, and Fort Point, as well as explore the west end of The Presidio. Along the way there will be an opportunity to take in different periods of military architecture and view the continuing restoration of some of The Presidio’s unique residential neighborhoods.



This little beauty is For Sale...



Jane Fonda...uses naughty "C" word on talk show! Potty-mouth, indeed!

Jane, an acrobat between the sheets?


What's up with all the bimbo babes, lately?

One week, Natalie Cole was dissin' Amy Winehouse.

On the heels of that juvenile tirade, Aretha was firing off press snoots alleging disrespect.

Then, Jane Fonda appeared on morning talk fests, foul-mouthed and acting un-ladylike.

Yup!

Ms. Fonda shocked middle America on the "Today" show when she spat out the "C" word in front of a startled audience at the Peacock Network.

Talk about color, dahlink!

Yeah, we want plumage; but Jane - that was a tad salty - don't you think?

During a discussion about the play - "the Vagina Monologues" - the daughter of celebrated film icon - Henry Fonda - uttered the vulgar derogatory term often used as a hateful slur to describe a woman's surly nature.

One more vile than the "b" word, that fer sure.

The degrading word, meant as the ultimate insult to a woman, is generally not even whispered - "off-air" - in polite circles.

So it begs the question. Was the "slip" of the tongue an innocent one?

Or, does Ms. Fonda just lack any class?

Even Russel Crowe has the good sense to warn an audience about potentially offensive language he intends to facilitate on occasion during an interview to spice up a story a tad.

For instance, one night on the Tonight Show, Crowe warned he'd be using a phrase a few prudes might find offensive.

With a glint in his eye, he delightfully instructed:

"if such language is not to your liking, plug your ears."

Understandably, when he spouted out the word - Mother****ers - NBC bleeped it.

Because of the way Crowe handled the moment, the audience laughed uproariously.

It boggles the mind to think that Ms. Fonda - an actress, who emotes the sacred "word" for a livin' - is so clueless.

In view of her past tales of near-bondage and kinky sex with former hubby - Director Roger Vadim - one has to wonder if this is where Hanoi Jane picked up the naughty "potty mouth"?

Or, was it hubby Ted Turner's fault - for unabashedly jaunting into the men's locker room at the sports arena one day - with Jane on his arm?

Out of the mouths of babes, eh?

http://www.julianayrs.com

Aretha Franklin...Divas clash! Sour notes amid cries of dis-R.E.S.P.E.C.T!

Lordie, that scrawny little songbird said what?


Either Aretha Franklin is paranoid or she's under the mistaken impression that all the stars in the firmament orbit around her global figure.

A case in point.

After Beyonce called her duet partner Tina Turner "the Queen" on Sunday evening's Grammy Award Show - the celebrated chanteuse not only threw a hissy fit - but allegedly issued a press release about the slight to boot.

Had that young upstart Beyonce lost her musical senses?

In a nutshell, Ms. Franklin not only felt "disrespected", but surmised there was a plot underfoot to topple her from her throne!

"I am not sure of whose toes I may have stepped on or whose ego I may have bruised between the Grammy writers and Beyonce," the hefty vocalist lamented to startled guests backstage.

Well, she's not very adept at the English language, for starters; but, we get the drift.

The moody Diva proceeded to opine that the whole fiasco was a sinister plot - "a cheap shot" - to stir up controversy.

It wasn't one, until you opened your pie hole, Ms. Franklin!

Aretha - did you ever consider the possibility that Beyonce acted innocently - that the comment slipped out in the sheer excitement of the moment?

Notwithstanding, why should she kow-tow to you?

Gosh, your ego is bigger than your record sales; and that's sayin' somethin'.

You're angry?

As Jay Leno quipped on the Tonight Show:

"She's mad? Elton John is furious!"


Elton John, Queen Supreme?

http://www.julianayrs.com

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Hillary Clinton...to divorce Bill; and funnyman Tony Randall was a stud!



As I stopped into a local fast food joint, a bold headline screamed out at me from the front pages of a tabloid newspaper a fellow patron left behind on the counter,

Clinton Secret Divorce Deal!

Gee, it was such tantalizing stuff, that I found myself gobbling down the titillating gossip whole as I munched on my breakfast sandwich over coffee.

According to insiders, Hillary Clinton and her philandering husband (their words, not mine) have a secret divorce pact that will end the marriage of 32 years if her historic bid for the White House ends in tears.

Golly!

"She needs the image of a healthy marriage, but it's all a sham. This marriage is made in political heaven, nothing more. Their romance ended years ago," an insider boldly confided to the tattle mongers at the Globe.

Their public display of a harmonious marriage is all a sham, others alleged elsewhere in the wild yarn.

In fact, it was claimed in various quarters - according to the weekly rag - that bitter behind-the-scenes fighting between the two has already threatened to derail Hillary's campaign.

Must be an old issue of the Globe, didn't her campaign go topsy-turvy this past week?

In sum, the "reliable" sources lamented that Hillary was furious with Wild Bill for being less-than-slick recently - what with his take-no-prisoners campaign style, in particular - which drew strident criticisms from even long-time supporters.

Close friends in the inner circle appear to have their knives out, too.

One source swore that,

"She kept him around for his political expertise, but now that seems to be working against her. In the end, she has to ask, "What good is he?"

Not even worth a romp in the hay, you say?

Folks allegedly "in-the-know" chirp, "...she swallowed her humiliation and stood by his side amid the sex scandals, because she needed Bill's popularity, connections and political savvy to fulfill her lifelong dream of becoming President.

"They've agreed to end it once and for all if she doesn't capture the White House," a source close to Hillary alleges. "There is no need for this marriage if she doesn't win."

Well, if they say so.

Unfortunately, I was unable to resist the bulk of the other scintillating news bites printed up with eye-catching captions elsewhere in the tabloid rag, either.

A half page article devoted to American Idol winner, Clay Aiken, was a hoot.

In the tell-all piece, Clay Aiken's sexual preferences were questioned; in spite of the fact - he swore up and down - that "nookie" was downright disgustin'.

"No sex, please," he lamented, even though he's not even British!

The newsies found it difficult to fathom a 29 year old guy without "urges".

Likewise, here.

Heh, maybe Clay Aiken is not only super talented, but super inhuman?

Billy Carter has to wonder, "...what, no lust in your heart, either?"

"The only reason to go to those bars is to get drunk and have sex," heart-throb Clay theorized. "To me, bars are what hell is like."

Then, what is heaven like, pray tell? Warbling on American Idol without missing one high note?

Well, you only have to read between the lines: gay!

He didn't even have to mention "show tunes" to figure that out.

A funny scoop was offered up by Tony Randall's widow, too.

Another tidbit about "gayness"...

Gee, homosexuality used to be the love that dare not speak its name; now it appears to be the love people that won't shut up about, eh?

With a straight face, Heather laughed at the idea that people thought Tony was a homo; in spite of the fact he was inclined to effectively play a handful of effeminate roles during the course of his career.

In fact, the fresh-faced lovely went so far as to claim that Tony was such a "stud" - so secure in his masculinity - that he never even suspected people "thought" he was homosexual.

Whoa, Nellie!

Enough of that drivel!

The one titillating piece of gossip that took the cake was the tidbit on Demi Moore and Bruce Willis.

According to the reporter (I use that term loosely) Demi can't sleep nights, afraid that Bruce will end up in the sack, old and lonely.

If that's the case, then why did she divorce him?

According to Ms. Moore, Bruce needs to ditch the b****** and the hot 'n heavy dates with the bevy of young bimbo bombshells he's been bedding.

Date women his own age, you say?

Who? Candice Bergen, or Angie Dickinson - perhaps?

Something tells me, they wouldn't put up with any of that 2nd childhood **it.

By the way, what's the point of dating someone younger, if you can't call "the shots", or use your Machiavellian smarts to maneuver your way - um - on top?

Does the former brat-packer expect us to believe that her 30 year-old stud - Kutcher - doesn't yap at her heels all day, like an adoring pup?

Yeah, come to think of it, the Globe is just a lot of silly, puffed up chatter.

But, I wonder...what kinda' bucks are the tabloid writers raking in, anyway?

Do you think they make more than a blogger?

Maybe it's time to jump ship...

Aw shucks - me, a sex symbol?


For Willis, one sloppy Lewinski - please!

Romeo & Juliet...the Castro Theatre, Valentine's Day Screening, San Francisco!


Tonight there will be a special screening of "Romeo & Juliet" at the Castro Theatre in San Francisco.

The stunning screen adaptation of Shakespeare's well-known stage play was lensed by Florentine director - Franco Zeffirelli - and is a modern interpretation of the classic yet tragic love story of the two "star-crossed lovers."

Filmed on location in Italy, it is a refreshing passionate tale about the trials and tribulations of young love.

The Theatre owners have managed to secure a gorgeous archival print for the celebrated occasion.

Romeo & Juliet won four Academy Award nominations which include those for Best Picture, Director, Cinematography (Pasqualino De Santis), and Costume Design (Danilo Donati).

The tale, as told by the award-winning Italian Director, galvanized a generation on the date of its release.

Zeffirelli took a gamble when he cast the two lead roles with two young unknown and fresh-faced teenage actors - Olivia Hussey as the beautifuldark-haired Juliet - and 17-year old blue-eyed Leonard Whiting as Romeo.

Wisely, Zeffirelli exalted the exciting feuding scenes between hot-headed members of the opposing families which became an exciting highlight of the big budget feature.

Unknown to many, Laurence Olivier served as an uncredited off-screen narrator.

The lush poetic production features exquisite visuals and a memorable soundtrack that have stood the test of time. In fact, at this evening's screening, Connie Champage will perform Nina Rota's haunting theme accompanied by Boris Goldmund on the harp.

Ms. Hussey is scheduled for an interview with Jan Wahl at the Castro and is expected to discuss the making of the film as well as other career highlights.

Afterwards guests are invited to to meet and greet Ms. Hussey in the Castro Mezzanine for an autograph signing.

No Romeo in sight, though.

Tickets are a bit pricey.

Adults: $25.00
Youths: $12.50 (under 16)

See, Film Release clip, below...

Romeo and Juliet

Herald Examiner...VD, anyone?

Life is a box of chocolates, for some...


When I opened the Herald Examiner this morning I laughed out loud when I came across the caption on Page 19 of the daily which read,

"Need some last-minute V-D plans?"

In my youth, VD (a social disease) was not something you wanted to entertain the thought of, especially on Valentine's Day!

Was this a sly joke on the part of the editors?

Personally, I'd prefer a box of chocolates or a romantic candlelit dinner, than a dose of you-know-what!

But it's a subtle reminder, I guess...play safe with cupid, eh?

HOWL...Ginsberg controversy recalled! Ferlinghetti & Friends theatrical event!


Allen Ginsberg and lover Julian Beck bare all for Art



The last time I was in San Francisco, it was a joyous swirl of synchronistic moments, divine connections, and mystical moments.

One night, I found myself in the thick of the Ginsberg legend - not surprising - since a day earlier at an auction at the “Beat Museum” (North Beach) copies of “HOWL” triggered old memories.

Then, on the heels of that awakening, I came across a thick biography on Ginsberg steeped with insightful glimpses into the poet’s mystical soul.

Go figure!

After stumbling across a notice in the San Francisco Chronicle (which announced a reading of “HOWL” at the Yerba Buena Center) I ended up front-row center and inexplicably drawn to a reading of the controversial piece.

A tough assignment.

As three Poet Laureates wrestled with their interpretations of the remarkable literary work, Ginsberg’s profound musings - each carefully crafted word from all the astounding passages - bounced onto a screen behind and revved up the underlying theme.

Devorah Major’s voice was raspy and brimmed with rich full tones.

She performed her piece in a precise measured manner - which was effective for the most part.

But somehow, “Howl” - in a woman’s mouth - jarred the sensibilities somewhat when they tumbled out.

A second poet, Jack Hirschman, tackled his lines with great gusto.

For the most - the sharp punches he punctuated ‘em with - managed to hold the crowd’s collective breath in his thrall.

Overall, though, the interpretation was uneven, not very-well modulated, and lacked variety.

In sum, his interpretation was weak, ineffective, and uninspired.

The potent lines he delivered up deserved a better voice.

That of a seasoned actor, such as Richard Burton, perhaps.

The third woman - Janice Mirikitani - lacked the insight, depth and mere talent (even the imagination)to pull off the theatrics of “Howl”.

Her segment ended flat. I felt embarrassed for her.

Obviously, none of the readers had done their homework.

When Ginsberg wrote “Howl” - some passages were meant to resonate with an authoritative prophetic tone - which none came close to fathoming last night.

A handful of verses meant to be - “long litanies of sympathetic proclamations” - droned on senselessly without spirit or worthwhile inclination.

A ladder structure - the work of the long line - was not explored either, sadly.

Not did the - “barely in-control feeling of the Cassady word-rap” - come to life.

In fact, there didn’t appear to be any understanding of - “The beauty of abstract poetry of mind running along making awkward combinations like Charlie Chaplin’s walk, with long saxophone-like chorus lines…” - as originally intended by the author.

The rhythm, syntax, and diction that was painstakingly penned to effect an even and elastic flow from verse to verse was missing here.

But, what a footnote!

A young Afro-American male (Kahlil Anthony) started off by mimicking a jazz riff - while a young gospel-style singer sang - “Holy”, “Holy”, “Holy” - soulfully, almost reverently, at intermittent moments.

Then, the charismatic youth began to spout words.

Indeed - searched for ‘em one instant - experienced their wonder the next.

I marvelled at his reach and thrust.

As words trilled off the tongue - at first - he joyfully teased the audience as he hit the highs and the lows.

Then, the talented artist dove deep into the inner recesses of his soul.

Awesome!

In the midst of the staging, I imagined Ginsberg’s own delightful probe.

In essence - Kahlil’s performance of the “footnote” - was a startling entertaining ten or fifteen minutes of theater that brought the piece to life.

Ginsberg would have given a nod of approval, I’m sure.

Interesting, how the night came about.

According to Ken Foster (Director of the Yerba Buena Arts Center) respected artist Lawrence Ferlinghetti approached him about hanging a half-a-dozen paintings in the gallery which were rejected for display at another institution on the grounds that they were “offensive”.

At that meeting - the forward-thinking Foster suddenly recalled a local radio station also bowed out of an opportunity to present an on-air reading of “HOWL” in recent weeks - for fear of reprisal from the FTC for obscenity.

The confluence of the two events crystallized ideas that he had been mulling over in respect to the role of the artist and a gallery in the community.

It suddenly occurred to Foster that this was the perfect occasion to throw together a multi-media theatrical event with the express purpose of making a bold-faced statement about “freedom of expression”.

“We want to show work that is meaningful to a contemporary world, but sometimes artworks are controversial due to nudity, sexual situations or violence,” he noted in an essay published by “FORUM” at the San Francisco Chronicle.

Gallery officials (such as himself) were often forced to become gatekeepers, he complained.

Indeed - at the risk of not offending - Foster astutely conjectured it was wholly possible galleries might end up muffling the artistic voice.

In view of this, the Yerba Buena Art Center decided to toss an event featuring the alleged “offensive” paintings in tandem with a full-scale reading of the controversial Ginsberg poem “Howl”.

And likewise, opted to seize on the opportunity to note that there would be an “open door” policy at the Gallery, henceforth.

In sum, there would be no further warnings about the explicit nature of art exhibits or performances ongoing at the facility in the future.

Ironically, Ferlinghetti was the original publisher who fought obscenity charges in Federal Court when his press first unleashed “HOWL” onto the world stage about fifty years ago.

To be fair, there is nothing that “offensive” about Ferlinghetti’s paintings.

 In fact, if there was an outcry, it was probably due to their lack of artistry.

While the art renderings show potential, they are somewhat primitive and lacking in professional stature.

Sorry, Lawrence.

In fact, the way the Yerba Buena Center has slapped ‘em up on the walls (without proper framing or labeling) may have been offensive to some, if not considered downright tacky. After all, the Yerba Beuna professes to be a professional gallery setting.

But, there is no law against a lack of sound judgment.

In contrast - “HOWL” - is an exemplary work of art.

After experiencing the theatrical presentation at the center, it is understandable why so many went to “bat” for it in the Federal Court when prosecutors sought to ban the poem on grounds of obscenity decades ago.

Originally, the legal battle was labeled a “WAR OF WORDS” over words.

According to Federal Law at the time, works had to be judged in their entirety and not by individual words and expressions - unless certain passages considered obscene - were included only to appeal to the salacious interests of the reader with no bearing on the work.

Ginsberg’s defense provided witnesses prepared to defend “HOWL” as a “whole”.

John G. fuller wrote in the Saturday Review:

“Howl is obviously a very serious effort and must be judged according to general law as a whole and not censored on the grounds of the individual words in it.”

In sum, the legal issues reduced the case to one all-important question:

If a literary work contained certain words or ideas found offensive in the general vocabulary, could the piece have lasting literary value?

Quite a distinguished group of literary notables appeared in court before Judge Clayton W. Horn (a formal Bible School Teacher) to attest to the veracity of the claims.

Vincent McHugh - a poet and novelist - described “HOWL” as a very real - “vision of modern Hell” - and testified the celebrated poem had all the hallmarks of literary excellence found in giant works by Ezra Pound, Dante, and Homer.

Luther Nichols - a book critic for the Herald Examiner - described Ginsberg as an “honest poet” and a competent technician.

It was noted that since Ginsberg floated through life a vagabond - with a persona colored by Jazz and a Bohemian education - that the words he found at his disposal (subject matter of the complaint) were intrinsic to the man, and thus, natural choices of expression for “Howl”.

A valid argument focused on the impact of HOWL on a person’s thoughts and actions.

“You can’t think common rotten things just because you read something in a book,” it was argued, “Unless it is your purpose to read common rotten things and apply common rotten things to what you read.”


But the judge had his own take, which prevailed for obvious reasons.


“If considering a work obscene was a matter of showing how it created lustful thoughts in the readers, or if the word or phrase has to be proven to lead to corruption or depravity in the reader, the word would have to be of an erotic nature.”


“If the material is disgusting, revolting, or filthy - to use just a few adjectives,” - Horn opined, “the antithesis of pleasurable sexual desire is born and it cannot be obscene.”


Case dismissed!


However, Horn was inclined to set a few guidelines for future cases on obscenity in the event they made their way to court.

For instance, he wrote in his opinion:

“If material has the slightest redeeming social importance it is not obscene because it is protected by the 1st and 14th Amendments of the U.S. Constitution.”

A second legal finding is my favorite:

In considering material claimed to be obscene remember the important motto:

“Honi soit qui mal y pense.”

Or, in plain old English:

“Evil to him who Evil thinks”.


Natalie Cole...misguided comments, bad girl rant!


Natalie Cole lashed out at Amy Winehouse and the Grammy Officials who voted the "Rehab" warbler a handful of Awards this past weekend.

"I don't think she should have won," Ms. Cole lamented at a press conference after the high-energy extravaganza came to a close Sunday evening.

Miss Cole allegedly sniped to anyone within earshot,

"I think it sends a bad message to our young people who are trying to get into the business, the ones who are trying to do it right and really trying to keep themselves together. We have to stop rewarding bad behavior."

If anyone is acting out-of-line, it's you, Ms. Cole.

Natalie, the awards are given to artists for their musical talent, not for their behavior - on stage, or off.

Notwithstanding, for your information...throughout history, artists have been known to struggle with private demons.

In fact, many of the troubling encounters have not only resulted in self-discovery on occasion, but - more-often-than-not - fueled the creative muse, as well.

Your goody two-shoes attitude is not only misguided, but laughable at best.

Berkeley...gets "marine issue" right, amid protest!


When the City Council voted two weeks ago to draft a letter to the Marines denouncing their presence in the Berkeley area, no one could possibly anticipate what an uproar it would cause.

As the City Council sat in chambers on Tuesday arguing the issue, a swirl of controversy wafted about in the streets, where protesters - both for and against the measure - clamored to be heard about their stance on the matter.

Ironically, the "troops" were called in, to hold the peace.

The vigil lasted throughout the night, until the early dawn, when it appeared City Council would finally see the "light".

Their answer to the dilemma?

Support the troops, but denounce the war in Iraq.

Ah, looks like the elected officials got it right.

Peace.

In Berkeley, at least.

Barack Obama...Power of 3 M's; surge forward to Potomac!


After the sweeping win over the weekend, polls indicate that Barack Obama has the power of the 3 M's behind him - Men, Minorities, and Moderates.

In fact, if the election were held today, Obama would squeak by McCain by a couple of percentage points, according to weekend polls.

In fact, the recent take on voter trends, indicates that a large percentage of white men prefer to cast their ballot Obama's way.

And, Obama has a wider appeal by a spread of at least nine points, with younger men.

Hillary loses out, by all accounts, if only by a fraction.

"Many men are reluctant to vote for a woman," one pundit opined, after reviewing the tallies.

Yup, it's okay for Ma or the wife to micro-manage the budget in the family household, but a few men appear to be reticent about the idea of a woman running the "White House" in much the same way.

Interestingly, male voters are not getting out to the poles as much as their counterparts, according to reliable sources.

Frustrated?

Disgusted with the fact there is no Dem to vote for, other than Barack or Hillary?

In contrast, women are scurrying to the polling stations en masse in record numbers.

Well, now that the racial issues have been squared away - widely duked out in the media - it appears that the battle of the sexes is predominantly underway big time.

I wonder, is this causing any strain in bedrooms around the Nation, at night?

Sleep tight, hang loose, and sweet dreams America.

Soon, there will be a spanking new President in the Oval Office on Pennsylvania Avenue - black, white, female - whomever.

Hail to the Chief!

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