While pinky-membered hubby Arnold is busy governating and shilling for wacky, Japanese concerns, California First Lady Maria Shriver will sell jewelry depicting the state's landmarks, such as the Golden Gate Bridge, the Hollywood sign, and carvings of actors getting blowjobs from hookers that they may or may not know are trannies. Click the image to the left to see the bracelet in all of its glory.
Sure, this isn't the newsiest news we've ever heard, but since we've breathlessly been following the media blackout of the Writers Guild contract talks, it's worth mentioning: The writers and studios have adjourned talks until June 1st. This seems to be good news for the television networks at next week's "upfront" meetings, as they try make advertisers overpay for commercial time on ambitious sitcoms that are doomed to die on the vine and for the fourth iteration of Law & Order.
Drudge reports that Jimmy Kimmel was rushed to the hospital after suffering an on-air allergic reaction in which his face swelled, his voice went raspy, and his eyes closed shut. Thankfully, the crew was there to provide some assistance; if he had to rely on his viewers to call 911, Kimmel could have expired while USC's Beta Theta Pi chapter finished its marathon waterfall chug.
As upstanding citizens of the world's cultural capital, we are proud to shun the Britney's Every Move Industrial Complex. People in Los Angeles are only vaguely aware of this Spears character, and certainly not at all interested in her love life or the color of her nipples. Defamer, as a representative of this fine city, remains blissfully oblivious to the controversy raging over her supposed Playboy shoot, or her ongoing dry-humping of a dancer with a pregnant fiancée. And that's the way we like it. Really, thighs like hers have no business on this coast.
Who are the latest victims of Hollywood's insensitivity? Rural Americans. First Fox exported our celebutante trash to defile a small Arkansas town (not to mention this summer's slut-a-riffic road trip sequel). Now CBS wants to inflict a real-life version of The Beverly Hillbillies on the world and UPN wants to document Amish teens going buck-wild in the big city.
...A delusion that they're going to make it in this town and prove their drama coach back in Skokie wrong? A pair of enhanced breasts that make men wistful for beach balls? No, everyone has a car, silly! The new L.A. Weekly dedicates itself to the city's love affair with the automobile. Pick up the LAW's car issue and you'll learn fun facts like the BMW 760Li is known in Hollywood circles as the "Jew Canoe," or pour over articles with subtitles like "The Blinging of Los Angeles." But don't let all of the car coverage let your four-wheeled passion get too heated. No one wants you singeing your "gear-shift knob" on your ride's tailpipe.
The headline made our testicles [Ed.note—Or ovaries!] instantly retract in horror: "Stars Face Unmade Beds as Cannes Hotel Staff Strike." Another French strike, this time by hotel workers, and Brad Pitt faces the very real possibility of laying his interview-weary head down on last night's pillow case.
What happens when your glossy magazine tries to throw a party filled with celebrities and nobody shows up? You still have your shitty party, and pretend to be thrilled that Jonathan Silverman took time off from watching The Single Guy reruns on A&E long enough to drink your free booze. An attendee details the low-light carnage at last night's Los Angeles Confidential magazine's party at—yes, you're reading this correctly—a Beverly Hills Mercedes dealership. Note to L.A. Confidential: This crowd would've chewed off your arm for a cash bar at Hollywood Geo.
In a shocking turn of events that may cause a sharp, temporary downturn in Disney CEO Michael Eisner's effigy hangings by shareholders, The Walt Disney Company reported a 71% profit increase. It's probably premature to tell the investor mob to extinguish their torches and halt Molotov cocktail production. Don't worry, my pretties, soon the time will come where you can storm Sleeping Beauty's castle like the Bastille. Just be patient and try not to die from heatstroke inside those giant Mickey and Minnie heads.
Corpulent, fraternal Miramax heads Harvey and Bob Weinstein are negotiating to personally buy back Michael Moore's documentary Fahrenheit 911 from Disney, and are reportedly close to a deal which would allow them to find another distributor for the anti-Bush doc. There's too much talking in Hollywood these days; everything's a negotiation. Isn't Harvey obsessed with being an old-school movie mogul? Moguls kicked ass and took what they wanted. Harvey, here's a project for you: By the end of the week, we want to read, "Harvey Weinstein held Disney CEO Michael Eisner out of the 20th floor window of Disney's Burbank headquarters by his ankle, shaking him vigorously until he surrendered the rights to Fahrenheit 911."
From a source on the set of the cancelled Sharon Osbourne Show, which is finally finishing production:
The L.A. Weekly's Nikki Finke updates her story on the ongoing LAT and NYT investigations of Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter. Now the Wall Street Journal is in on the investigation, and the LAT may be the first major news outlet to go to press with the story, possibly as early as Monday. According to Finke's article, LAT writer Michael Cieply has uncovered "six cases already' of Carter benefiting financially from his relationship with Hollywood. And there's a lot of heat surrounding Carter supposedly charging outrageous amounts for his "consulting services."
Variety reports that the negotiations to renew Bob and Harvey Weinstein's contracts to run Mirmax past 2005 may have hit an impasse. The article's headline reads "Miramax headed for divorce court?" Aren't you a little tired of divorce metaphors? We prefer action-packed imagery of Harvey strangling Disney CEO Michael Eisner, who's got an unsigned contract stuffed in his mouth. Come on, Variety, you can use that to formulate one of your famous "Slanguage" headlines. How about "Mouse Topper Chokes On Harv's Offer?" You'll think of something.
Is this the face of someone who gets into a standoff with a SWAT team? Greg Burson, the voice actor behind cartoon characters such as Yogi Bear, Bugs Bunny, and Elmer Fudd, had an intoxicated showdown with the LAPD last night after a possible kidnapping call brought police to his Los Angeles home, according to the NY Post. The standoff ended without anyone getting hurt, although one of the women Burson was holding in the house said he had guns. Thank God The Simpsons cast got what they wanted, because an incident with Homer would have certainly ended in bloodshed.
This week's huge Electronic Entertainment Expo (E3) attracts the area's civilian nerds for the video game convention and Hollywood's celebrity lushes for the boozy parties. A reader sends this report from last night's star-studded Playstation 2 event at the Mayan Belasco Theater (you'd think that Sony was debuting a high-end vodka for all of the drunken antics going on):
If you're anything like us (and you probably are, except you're sober at your desk and much better paid), you've been scratching your head, wondering exactly how the new NBC Universal conglomerate will be organized. Who are the people under Universal chairman Stacey Snider in the chain of command? For the love of God, who's NBC Cable's David Zaslav reporting to?! Well, you can stop scratching. We have the new NBC Uni (can we all start calling it Nbuni? Please?) organizational chart for all of your stultifyingly boring reference needs. Click on the picture to get the full-size version, which is easily five times as thrilling and informative.
What's the best way to get the word out that the child molestation charges against you are patently false? Have your former managers put up a web site selling merchandise with snappy logos saying so! MJisinnocent.net has just launched, and is offering a variety of sartorial ways for Jacko fans to publicize their hero's innocence. They don't offer the underwear (yet), but when they do, we're coming for our cut.
Motormouth auteur/amateur pugilist Quentin Tarantino, this year's head juror at the Cannes Film Festival, admitted to cold-cocking a security guard there in 1992. "I am trying to cleverly push my way in and all of a sudden this French guy with a tuxedo and a red bow tie pushes me in the chest. I am from Los Angeles. We have the LAPD there. These red bow tie guys don't show me anything. So I took a swing at the guy." It took five security guards to restrain him.
Continuing our leisurely morning stroll through the trades...
