Hillary Clinton...late night call comes, she fails the test!

You should have let the service answer!


On Thursday night, Bill Richardson of New Mexico - prompted by a concern that the upcoming Democratic convention may become bloodied - put in a perfunctory call to Hillary Clinton.

"Let me tell you, we've had better conversations," the Governor disclosed to anyone within earshot.

Apparently, after some tense chit-chat on the line, he broke the upsetting news to the former first lady, that he was giving the nod to her rival - Barack Obama.

Although voters were not privy to the conversation on the line that fateful night, it sure would have been intriguing to have been a fly on the wall, listening in!

"It was cordial, but a little overheated," asserted Richardson.

Overheated?

Maybe, the dialogue went something like this,

"The thanks I get. I helped elevate you to the national stage by naming you energy secretary and Ambassador to the United Nations - and look what I get in return - a slap in the face!"

Typical of a Clinton strategist, and no doubt still licking from the wounds, Mark Penn opined about the endorsement in its wake,

"The timing when it could have been effective has long since passed."

Then, why the fiery exchange on Thursday evening?

When the dialogue was over, Richardson not only went on to publicly criticize the tone of Clinton's campaign, but cited it as grounds for retreat from the Clinton camp.

Maybe it was also the tone of her voice, the night before?

While it is being reported in the press that the Clinton's are being philosophical about the unfortunate turn of political events (damage control!), supporters have not been particularly kind to Mr. Richardson.

A case in point, James Carvell. An adviser to Mrs. Clinton (and pal of Bill), he was allegedly livid.

"An act of betrayal," Carvell snorted.

"Mr. Richardson's endorsement came around the anniversary of the day when Judas sold out for 30 pieces of silver, so I think the timing is appropriate," hissed Carvell, according to the New York Times.

Such a drama Queen!

Some say, the ballsy move by the Governor may trigger super delegates to step forward, and fall into line - behind Obama.

So, as the intrigues unfold, we are left to ponder...

If this was one of those late night calls that Hillary Clinton was referring to on the campaign trail - then clearly, in the hour of crisis - she was unable to weather the eye of the storm.

Richardson hints to Hillary - "get along little doggie"...

Paris Hilton...casts for confidante, sensitivity a must!

Paparazzi wrangling required!


I stumbled across an interesting casting notice in Back Stage.

Paris Hilton, our darling media muffin, is seeking a confidante for her new reality show, My New BFF.

I suppose the first task would be to figure out what BFF stands for. I hang my head in shame and admit. I cheated.

I cruised over to her web site and was able to determine the initials stand for, "New Best Friend".

Ho hum!

Some of the scintillating ideas I conjured up in my own twisted mind were a lot more intriguing, I assure you!

But, moving on...

When it comes to potential candidates, Paris is fairly open across the board. For instance, the casting office notes that applicants may be male or female and any age or ethnicity.

I suppose if she hires a studly guy he could double as a bodyguard. Or, in the alternative, don a Chauffeur's cap when Missy gets a bit tipsy so the hostess-with-the-mostest may avoid another DUI.

But, be wary (dear Paris) of warming up to a pretty young gal. If you're not careful she'll be strutting around in your designer duds when you're at Mom's and trying to slip into the sack with your boyfriend when the two of you are on the outs.

Go for a homely woman with sensible shoes!

Apparently, Ms. Hilton's handlers have noted that endurance is essential.

If all that late-night carousing and jockeying for face time amid the swarms of blood-thirsty paparazzi staking out territory in front of the "Villa" and "Koi" invigorates 'ya, this is your cup of tea.

Of course, loyalty is important, too.

In that case, Paris, let's have a heart to heart. Time to dump that photographer who shot the publicity still posted above. Is it my imagination, or did the shutterbug cut off the top of your pretty noggin'? Or, are you just missing a vital part of your brain?

An ability to navigate "girl politics" is a prerequisite, as well.

Girl politics?

In that event, the hapless hopeful should take a cue from stumper Hillary Clinton. After all, the Dem Dame has been a sterling example of "humanization for maximum effect" in recent weeks.

Yes, it's important to be tear-eyed on occasion and reveal a vulnerable side. It drums up sympathy, after all. But, when called for, the right candidate should know how to stick to her guns and take a tough-as-nails stance to establish that no woman is a push-over, either.

In the event of a hissy-fit or two the confidante should be able to calm the waters by noting with soothing sensitivity,

"It's that time of the month, you know?"

Heck - didn't you know? - even guys have a day or two each month when they get - um - testy. Surely, Ms. Hilton is entitled to a bluesy off-note moment or two now 'n then!

So, good luck with the interviews, Ms. Hilton.

And, if any of the candidates don't work out, they can always shrug and say,

"Well, at least we had Paris."

Delectable culinary treats at Koi...


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Mens Underwear...for spills in the street! Ginch Gonch, 2(X)ist, and Calvin Klein!

Well, when you were a kid, your mother drummed it into you.

"Wear clean underwear. You never know when you'll be in an auto accident in the street."

Say what?

One day recently, I witnessed a collision on Laurel Canyon, and the advice came home to roost!

I was waiting for a light to change - when a middle-aged woman thought she'd take a gamble and effect a quickie left turn - in spite of the fact a motorcyclist with the right of way was headed in her direction at top speed.

Big mistake!

Half way into the turn - the guy on the bike slammed into the side of her old caddie, soared over the roof from the impact - and landed with a thud in the middle of the bustling city street.

Ouch!

In a quick emergency effort to determine the extent of the injuries, paramedics sliced open the sides of his tight jeans at the seams.

At this point, his dingy-looking underwear, was exposed for all the by-standers to see.

Heh, Mom!

Now, I understand what you meant!

So, if you want to be fashionable when you're hanging out on the street, why not sport a pair of tightie-whities from Ginch Gonch, Calvin Klein, or 2(X)ist?

All, fit snugly.

And, they sure beat flapping in the breeze!

A Hard Day's Night...madcap antics of Beatles still excite!

The Fab Four...


I was zipping along Beverly Boulevard when I spied a marquee screaming out an enticing double bill:

"A Hard Day's Night" and "Across the Universe"

I clicked on my blinker and roared into the nearest parking space.

"A Hard Day's Night" is a tantalizing black and white feature that the Beatles lensed on the crest of their rise to musical popularity in England in the late sixties just prior to conquering America a short while later on their first major tour.

The film is a zany fun comedy about the Beatle's rise to Pop Icon status and the pitfalls and trappings of fame.

Surprisingly, the four lads display a remarkable gift for acting here - comedy - in particular.

Indeed, when the bio-flick (thirty-six hours in the life of the Fab Four) was first released - critics not only raved - but compared the mop-heads to the legendary Marx Brothers.

In one hilarious moment on a fast-moving train - one of the famous Liverpudlians actually stoops over mischievously as he raises and lowers his eyebrows a smidgen - then taps on an imaginary cigar in his hand.

Yes, it's a delightful take on Groucho Marx.

The dialogue in the film is intelligent, sophisticated, and witty and hits the funny bone just right.

However, the moviegoer has to be quick on the uptake because the jokes move along at rapid-fire pace.

In many respects "A Hard Day's Night" was groundbreaking when it was first unleashed on an unsuspecting public hungry for Beatlemania.

The camera angles are artful, for instance, and the basic storytelling devices are fresh and innovative in approach.

In one memorable scene - the quartet (looking a lot like keystone cops) zigzag around a soccer field as they occasionally slam into each other - bouncing this way 'n that.

At one point - the four lads tumble to the ground and playfully stare wide-eyed at a striking expanse of sky - and all its wonder above.

Although the film was shot and released before the Beatle's celebrated experiment with transcendental meditation - and their acknowledged use of hallucinatory drugs - there are a few hints of what is to come if you pay close attention.

For example - in a club car on the train - Lennon puts a coca-cola bottle up to the right nostril and sniffs at the top a trifle. Then, does the same thing with the left side of his nose.

Was he subtly hinting at "snorting" coke?

It occurred to me that the bathroom shot - where Lennon plays with a toy submarine - may have actually triggered the creative thrust for a later project "Yellow Submarine".

Of course, a big plus is the repertoire of songs featured in the fast-paced comedy; some of the most poignant and tender ever written by the Lennon/McCartney team.

The rapt audience was so enthralled with the celluloid offering that they often tapped their feet to the catchy beat, rocked back and forth in their seats, and occasionally burst into song.

On occasion, I was surprised how easily I was able to suddenly recall the lyrics for signature tunes, such as - "I Want to Hold Your Hand", "She Loves You", "Can't Buy me love", and "If I fell".

But the hits were so memorable, why the heck not?

I fondly recall when the Beatles first hit the pop airwaves.

I was residing in Scarborough (Canada).

Such an innocent lad, I was!

If a boy was lucky enough to have the kind of hair that styled into the moppet cut - and parents hip enough to allow it - he was the envy of his classmates.

Meanwhile, a handful of boys settled for the leather cap - or a cheaper one in corduroy - in the event cash was strapped.

The Nehru-style jackets were all the rage, too.

Kids snapped 'em up in black or grey - with ubiquitous trim accenting the collar - which rounded out the mod "look".

Beatle Boots were optional, but what an ensemble if you could pull it off!

The big question of our youth?

Who was more popular - the Rolling Stones or the Beatles?

The scruffy strutting peacocks in competition with Beatles - John, Paul, Ringo, and George - had a darker more sinister appeal to some.

The ultimate cool?

Mick Jagger, you betcha!

But, fans had their fave mop-tops, too.

Some pined for Paul and his pretty face. Others, got a kick out of Ringo and the multitude of glitzy eye-popping rings he adorned his fingers with. The more mature waxed eloquently about Beatle John Lennon - the intellectual - and raved about his fine line drawings and unique offbeat poems. Others focused on the laid-back earthiness of George.

When the Beatles were scheduled to first appear on the Ed Sullivan Show, I was ringside in my Grandmother's prim and proper parlor bug-eyed like the rest of North America, as the extraordinary historical event unfolded before us on the telly.

A couple of years later the Magical Mystery Tour - that was the Beatles phenomenon - fizzled to a halt, though.

A short while later, I recalled one fan lamenting:

"Since the Beatles broke up, life has never been the same."

But, we still have the music, and bouncy tunes that breathe on in a myriad of intriguing new incarnations.

Just screen "Across the Universe" or tune into "American Idol" each week and you'll fathom what I mean.

Jagger, the King of Rock 'N Roll...

The Grand...not very! A stinker, at best.

Not even Woody Harrelson could save this stinker!
On a scale of 1 to 10?
Minus 4.
Don't waste your bucks!

Young@Heart...touching hilarious documentary that inspires! Elderly Choristers wow audiences...

"Young@Heart", a new documentary release will not only touch - but just maybe - bring a tear to your eye.

Soon-to-be released by Fox Searchlight, the novel doc is an up-close behind-the-scenes gander at a chorus of vocalists who tour to sold-out concerts around the Nation and abroad.

What sets 'em apart from other stage performers?

They're mostly an octogenarian bunch, for starters.

Unlike other entertainers pining for fame and glory on Tin Pan Alley, the troupe is a tight-knit band of seniors - ranging in age from 72 and upwards - who crave for the exhileration that the joy of singing delivers up!

And, for a topper?

Forget about Bible-thumping hymns and sappy love songs; their repertoire consists of ballsy with-it pop ditties from the musical realms of  top 40, rock 'n roll, and even punk!

Yes, when the first scenes open and the choristers belt out a lyric or two from a "Clash" cover, it jars the sensibilities at first.

But, withiin moments, the audience is revved up and enthralled by the whimsy of it all.

What a human interest story!

They're darn good, I tell 'ya.

Their succes is partly due to their insightful task master who pushes them to the limits with remarkable heart-warming results.

In fact, a lot of the footage is devoted to the weekly rehearsals - and a rip-roaring insightful zoom in on the engaging seniors - as they try to wrap themselves (and - in a couple of instances - sluggish grey matter) 'round tough tongue twisters and a musical sound that is light years from what they once waltzed to.

But, through the course of the documentary - as the filmgoer roots 'em on from the footlights - just betcha they nail 'em.

Some say that Beethoven and Bach - Mozart, too - composed musical compositions to heighten learning capability.

So, what is the attraction here?

"Well, it's good for the lungs," one elderly gent noted with a gleam in his eye.

Notwithstanding the obvious benefits of the virtual act of vocalizing itself - clearly the rigorous schedules (challenging rehearsals, traveling on the road, gearing up for heart-pounding concert dates) have not only reved the folks up -  but  bestowed a purposeful intent sure to add longevity.

Occasionally, the probing lens of the documentarian focuses on a couple of the individual chorus members; when it does, the results are often hilarious.

One old goat (forgive me for saying it, Sir!) noted that the reason he and his wife stayed together for 54 years was,

"Because we kept romance in our lives. Twice a week we'd go out on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. She on Tuesday, me on Wednesday."

And, in a solemn tone, he underscored that the loving relationship lasted because it was based on faith and trust.

"Her faith in me, and my lack of trust in her."

Hee-Haw!

But, there are touching moments in the film as well.

When the chorus performs for a handful of prisoners incarcerated at a local jail, the first up-beat number gets the guys hooting and laughing, and slapping each other on the back with mirth.

But, when the singers note there was a recent death in the group and dedicate a song (Forever Young)to their lost band member, the mood noticeably changes.

The gang of burly tattooed thugs get a little sullen, teary-eyed even.

In that one poignant moment it's evident the inmates are inclined to reflect on their plight, ponder mistakes they've possibly made, and wonder how it is that they've come to this way-station in life.

The director has also included a couple of promotional clips of video montages which elicit a lot of whoops and hollers from the theatre-goers, too.

To the tune of "Stayin' Alive" a big hulk of a man strides through a bowling alley in a white suit, effecting a hip stylish swagger that John Travolta would be envious of.

Another beautifully crafted segment - warbled to the endearing strains of David Bowie's - "Golden Years" - is fun, heart-warming, and entertaining.

"Young@Heart" is top notch entertainment bound to appeal to young and old alike.

Catch it, when it arrives at a theatre near you!

CD available online!

 

http://www.julianayrs.com

Susan Holmes...scumbag "Private Investigator" harasses, stalks, and Violates Rights!

Undoubtedly, a number of you are following the Pellicano case underway in the Los Angeles courthouse.

Mr. Pellicano is a private investigator who was hired by a disreputable individual to run interference against his enemies - sully their credibility and spread smut about them - with the ultimate aim of damaging their names and reputations.

And he used every trick in the book - including a handful of illegal ones - to accomplish that end.

He is currently on trial for alleged wiretapping, racketeering and other crimes.

This past week, there was a lot of testimony about a retired phone company technician - Rayford Turner - who is accused by the Government of having helped Pellicano with the wiretaps.

Teresa Wright (a former sales support manager at the phone carrier) divulged on the witness stand that she surreptitiously supplied Turner (a friend) with confidential information on people the government alleges Pellicano was wiretapping.

On the heels of this revelation, it was disclosed to the rapt Jury, that accessing that information without a valid service reason violated the phone company's code of ethics.

As Nixon henchmen would joke - "Pellicano "rat-f**ked" people, man."

All in a day's business for most private investigators.

When it comes to divorce cases, PI's are generally hired to sift through the dirty laundry.

You'll spy 'em lurking outside sleazy motel rooms in rattle-trap late model autos (picking their noses, no doubt) as they lay in wait for the incriminating "catch" - a revealing photo or some juicy tidbit - to aid in their client's scurrilous bidding. No holds barred.

Think - LA CONFIDENTIAL - and you'll get the idea.

Apparently - when a dispute between a top model and her ex-boyfriend struck frenzied peaks - a PI actually delved into garbage bins seeking DNA samples from items tossed in the bathroom trash. Yup, the stakes get high when high-profile careers and big bucks are involved!

According to my sources - car dealerships are notorious for hiring "Private Dicks" to track down vehicles that have gone astray after failed payments or disputes have arisen after a buyer determines the sellers unloaded lemons on 'em - or misrepresented the vehicle or financing details. You name it.

Oh, those folks are a nasty low-life gang of white-trailer trash, for sure.

Elaine Knoles - who uses the aka "Susan Holmes" - claims to be a licensed "Private Investigator" out of Trabuco Canyon in Orange County. Curiously, in spite of a thorough search on the Internet, this shadowy figure is difficult to pin down.

A review of the State's database of licensed investigators, for instance, doesn't turn up diddly squat.

Note: it has been confirmed that Ms. Knoles hasn't any State license.

Maybe, she's using the alias to distance herself from her outlandish unlawful antics?

If so - it would appear that in her twisted mind - she's under the wild impression that she's as keen at the art of detective work as the master Sherlock Holmes. Why else would she associate with the surname, Holmes?

With these demented losers, who knows!

If she's the "Susan Holmes" who posted a comment on a web site about her ability "to hide drugs" from the police, then maybe that's the answer in a nutshell. If the woman is an addict - her faculties may be so befuddled by the stupor - that the line has blurred between what is lawful and what is not.

Could it be that it's the sale of drugs that has afforded her the luxury of boasting ownership of a horse ranch in Trabuco Canyon? After all, it's difficult to fathom how a lowly agent for a repo agency manages to lay claim to such expensive digs. The spoils of her illegal pursuits? You figure it out.

Someone should take aim and upset her little apple cart because she's not only trampling on an individual's privacy - but oftentimes - viciously harassing and violating their rights in the process.

On one occasion, Ms. Holmes actually posed as a consumer's wife (he was single at the time) in a sneaky bold-faced effort to obtain his private phone records from the telephone company; then, proceeded to call the numbers on the billing statement to summarily slander and defame the unsuspecting individual to friends, family, and business associates.

Then, she disappeared into the woodwork, bragging about the mayhem she left in her wake.

Without any qualms, she's known to falsely allege that a person she's "tracking" is - homosexual or lesbian (whichever applies), taking drugs, carousing at gay (or straight) bars all night, ripping people off - whatever it takes to shock and demean is okay in her books.

In fact, it appears that she gets some kind of a perverse kick out of it, according to my sources.

While the attack is intended to defame - on occasion - she manipulates the cause to coerce a party into succumbing to demands - and ultimately - abandoning legitimate claims against her ensigns and employers.

Do her neighbours in Trabuco Canyon know what skullduggery she's up to when she slips out at night to to foist cars out from under unsuspecting citizens deep in slumber who are unaware of the evil that is about to descend upon them?

Her associates are prone to make outrageous threats, as well.

On more than one occasion, sources have informed me that callers at her behest, have hissed at startled victims,

"Unless you return the vehicle now a bounty hunter will track you down."

In fact - PI's often make menacing calls several times a day - in spite of the fact Consumer Protection Statutes specify that such conduct by debt collectors is unlawful.

And to think this kind of repulsive conduct is condoned by auto dealerships like Sunrise Ford (San Fernando Valley) and others in the Los Angeles area.

The film "Repo Man" wasn't far off in its depiction of the trade!

You'd think these establishments were run by the mob - and that at any given moment - burly guys in black suits with spaghetti on their ties might show up to break legs and bust heads.

Unfortunately, Ms. Knoles has been so clever at covering her tracks (and concealing her elusive whereabouts by deceitfully using aliases) that victims have been unable to bring legal action or lodge a complaint against her with State Officials who regulate the conduct of Private Investigators.

Understandably, the field is so poorly policed, that most of these degenerates get away with their harassment and what amounts to "Urban Terrorism".

Until now, that is.

A formal complaint was lodged against Ms. Knoles this past week with the State Attorney General's office and an investigation is pending.

It boggled my mind to learn friends of the parties being "chased down" had the audacity to answer phone calls from these flakes - and on occasion - disclosed intimate facts about their friends and family without hesitation. I'd show those "good buddies" the door!

Thereafter, Ms. Knoles and her henchmen used the private and confidential information to further their cause.

A handful of intelligent consumers have gotten wise over the years, have you?

Out of curiosity, I took a course for "Private Detective" work a few years back to get a take on the "industry".

What an eye-opening experience!

I was flabbergasted to learn what any bozo is capable of dredging up on the Internet with a few tools of the trade and some smarts at his or her fingertips.

The first place a skip tracer checks?

The voter's list of course; the info is a matter of public record and easy to obtain. Yeah, although you think you're doing your civic duty when you sign up each year to vote, you may be opening yourself up to the clever maneuverings of an ambitious bill collector, a stalker, or worse.

A suggestion?

Rent a mail box at the local post office. Then, use the secure mailing address for all records that filter into the public realm, so no prying eyes can act on 'em.

To avoid further scrutiny, be wary of signing up willy-nilly for subscriptions to newspapers and magazines. After all, it's a snap for an experienced PI to access those files, too.

Did you know that detailed financial information on mortgage papers are in the public domain as well? Granted, a person has to engage in a little savvy legwork at the Hall of Records to secure the data - but when bucks are involved - you bet your sweet bippy someone will be quick on the uptake.

After all - mortgage documents not only reveal the name of your bank - but your social security number and your marital status (among other things).

With this information, the PI can saunter off on another tangent; who knows, maybe access IRS records by their automated system or find out your last transaction from a credit report to fathom where you shop.

Then, use the info to lay in wait for you!

Seem preposterous?

Most of these pretentious d**ks are just small potatoes in the grand scheme of things. Once their victim coughs up the money - or they manage to snatch up the vehicle - they'll go their merry way.

But, shouldn't you take precautions for the future?

Tips

Use a Post Office Box to ensure your home address is confidential and out of the public record. For instance, direct mail for your Driver's License, credit card accounts, and bank statements to that location for security reasons. In the event you are out-of-town on holiday, or business, it may be lifesaver and bring you peace of mind to boot.

Use a voice mail number for applications, surveys on the street, and contests to avoid being the victim of thieves, spammers, and rip-off salesmen.

Use initials to signify your identity whenever possible - on subscriptions for e-mail newsletters, magazines, and the like - to protect gender info and throw off potential stalkers.

Use a secret code on your telephone account so no one can access your statement over the phone without your knowledge or permission.

Install a secret code on credit card accounts to prevent a review of your account without your authorization or knowledge.

Buy a "call display" screen device for your phone so you can verify the identity of a caller before you pick up. If you're out when a message was left - use reverse look-up (Internet Search) - before returning the call for further protection. If the number is not listed - and the caller claimed to be a business entity or service provider - be cautious. It may be a scam and/or a fraudulent attempt to "fish" for information.

And, finally, inform your family and friends not to give out personal and confidential information on the telephone to anyone - under any circumstances - without your permission first (no matter how tempting).

After all, protection starts at home...

Be wary of Micro cameras in belt buckles...

*This "post" was edited this past week to update new info provided by "blog" readers...

Paul Potts...to grace Wiltern Theatre stage; Wednesday, March 26, 2008

In view of the upcoming performance at the Wiltern Theatre in Los Angeles, here's a re-post of the "Potts vs. Pavarotti" controversy...


An unlikely tenor took the world by storm the other day when he sang out, some say, with tuning that was "all over the place".

"The voice was strained and uncontrolled," according to a music critic, Philip Hensher, in the Independent of London.

But that did not stop the humbling masses from screaming out "Bravo" on blogs all over the world after Paul Potts, who appeared on a Televised Talent Contest in Britain, nabbed a first prize for what many have crowned a triumphant rendition of Puccini's "Nessun Dorma".

Of course, "Nessun Dorma" is an aria from the final act of the Opera "Turandot". The aria, whose title translates from Italian as "Let no one sleep", follows the proclamation by the Princess Turandot that no one shall sleep: they shall all spend the night attempting to find out the name of the unknown prince, Calaf, who has set the challenge. Calaf sings, indicating his certainty that their effort will be in vain.

The aria achieved pop status after Luciano Pavarotti's rendition of it was used as the BBC's theme for the 1990 Football World Cup held in Italy. It was the tenor's signature song outside Italy since the 70s, and his rendition of it, garnered him worldwide fame before his passing.

After Potts' performance, the Internet was abuzz - at issue?

The opera snobs, of course, noted a handful of Potts' supporters; in particular, those who roundly criticized the singer's lack of operatic training.

A Robert Burns quote may be worthwhile to cite in this instant case:

"Opera is where a guy gets stabbed in the back, and instead of dying, he sings.”

"He may not be the greatest opera singer," quipped one. "We don't know dip about opera like him and can't wait to see him perform. We know what uplifts us and makes us feel good. Go away, snobs."

The segment which showcased Potts' vocalizing was the "most viewed", a "top favorite", and the "most discussed", according to YouTube.

One observer noted, "...he sounded just like Pavarotti, unless you've heard Pavarotti."

Actually, Paul first sang opera at the age of 28 for a karaoke competition where he dressed up as Pavarotti.

The response to the telly show ranged from "soul piercing song" to "absolutely delightful."

All the acclaim has brought Potts a $200,000.00 prize, a chance to sing for her Majesty, the Queen, and a record deal.

Of course, the Tonight Show will undoubtedly invite him on as a guest, too, so that he may conquer America , as well.

Congrats, Paul Potts!

Original post 8/29/07

aussieBum - Retro Swimwear...U ready for spring?

Sandy St. Peters...Craig Russell. Pioneers paved way for Female Impersonators!

Sandy St. Peters...Empress of Vancouver!


Craig Russell awash with rapt fans!



The lure of late-night theatrics at the Insomniac Cinema at the Regency Theatre inspired me to snap up a couple of tickets for the transgender road-trip feature - "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert".

As Terrence Stamp and Guy Pearce camped it up on the screen in full drag, I was inclined to harken back to the old days when the "art" of cross-dressing was just blooming in secret out-of-the-way nightclubs in downtown Vancouver (B.C.) in the seventies.

One day, I was strolling along Granville Street (I was about 18) when a glamorous statuesque blond sashayed up and gave me a peck on the cheek. Huh?

"So, who 'ya been doin," the sexy siren joked.

When I stared at her with a puzzled expression on my face - say what? - she was quick on the uptake.

"Remember the blond kid that you used to say hi to on Yonge Street?"

My eyes just about popped out of my head.

"I crossed over," she cackled.

Yup, that was my first encounter with a female impersonator, that I know of!

Shortly after trekking out to the West Coast from the big-city environs of Toronto (known as Hog Town, to locals; I wonder why?) my acquaintance from T.O. started dressing up in women's clothing - and proceeded to promptly crown herself with the glorious stage name - Sandy St. Peters!

In about ten seconds flat, Ms. Peters was wowing the showbiz world with her uncanny, bang-on impersonations of Peggy Lee, Carol Channing, and Tammy Faye - to name a few.

Although Sandy was born in Germany, she grew up in Calgary for some inexplicable reason. Who knew a town brimming full of cowboys wrestling cows could conjure up such a dazzling gem?

For a brief time, Ms. Peters gravitated to Toronto (where she met moi!) but later felt quite at home on the comfy West Coast where she was well-received.

In fact, Sandy was crowned "Empress" by the Gay Community in 1973.

Later, Ms. Peters hit the road and toured western Canada with a sold-out show - the "Illusion Factor" - until November of 1983. In her wake, she left a trail of admiring fans.

Although the illness which caused her death was not related to an AIDS condition, and she allegedly remained uninfected, Ms. Peters dedicated herself to the cause nonetheless. Like the real showbiz pro that she was, Sandy co-organized and performed at the first AIDS benefit in Canada in 1981 - and in the process - helped raise over $10,000 at a time when the bucks were crucially needed.

As I penned this piece on her (and prepared to "paste" a photograph with the post) a shiver ran up and down my spine. Uh-huh, the grand lady is ever-present, in spirit, at least.

Of course, there was another giant on the female impersonator scene in those "heady" days of the pioneer drags.

Craig Russell!

Russell was President of the "Mae West Fan Club" when he was a teenager - and the experience, without doubt - influenced his ideas about persona for years to come.

By 1971, he was topping the bill in Toronto gay clubs, as a lusty female impersonator with a burgeoning International following.

I caught him perform at the Manitee, a boy-toy hot spot, back in his glory days in Toronto.

Craig starred in the feature film - "Outrageous" (1977) - which catapulted him to stardom and recognition in the mainstream; something that eluded many "drags" prior to the advent of shows like "La Cage aux Folles".

The film was one of the first North American features with a gay theme to receive widespread distribution. In it, Russell played Robin Turner, a gay hairdresser who wanted to be a drag queen.

Craig's signature style was to speak and sing in the voices of the celebrities he was impersonating, which included the likes of...Carol Channing, Bette Davis, Mae West, Peggy Lee, Tallulah Bankhead, Bette Midler, Anita Bryant, and Judy Garland.

One day at Studio One in West Hollywood, I passed Craig in the hall on the way to the back room, and shouted across the heads of the crowd,

"Heh, Craig! I'm from Scarberia, too."

That was the affectionate name given the suburb of Scarborough by the kids who managed to escape its lethal grasp.

He rolled his eyes and shouted back, "Good to see 'ya, dahlink!"

Unfortunately, shortly after that, he was appearing on a popular American talk show when he suffered an emotional breakdown. The show's producers had to cut to commercial break for a moment (if I recall correctly) so Mr. Russell could collect himself.

At the peak of his success, Russell was unable to cope with the pressures of fame. In fact, substance abuse and psychological problems increasingly affected his performances - so much so - that his career faltered.

In 1990, at the young age of 42, he passed away in Toronto of a stroke as a result of alleged excesses.

In recalling his gift, some noted how overwhelming it was to hear him go from an impression of Carol Channing in "Hello Dolly" one moment, into a gravelly-voiced Louie Armstrong timbre, the next.

Some claimed that if an audience closed their eyes when he "did" Connie Francis, they'd swear afterward it was the legendary singer who performed on stage that night.

But, Craig could be a hoot, too.

One impression that often whipped up audiences into a frenzy in the late 1970s was his rendition of Anita Bryant singing an old-time favorite - "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."

In sum, Russell's satirical impersonation of the anti-gay crusader established to many - an astute political awareness and commitment on his part - which stood him apart in the early years of the Gay Civil Rights movement.

In the final analysis, it was tough for Craig Russell to inhabit the skin of a "female impersonator" twenty-four hours a day, in the glare of the International spotlight.

Yeah, I expect it's tough being a drag Queen!

Maybe there is an identity crisis that goes along with the territory.

Which reminds me of one of the most embarrassing experiences of my entire adult life!

Back in the old days, when bottle clubs - like the infamous "Faces" - were prevalent in Vancouver, I used to bump into this tall exotic woman with a flair for dressing in a chic flamboyant way.

One day, I spied her on the nude beach (Wreck Beach at the University of B.C.) and was quite stunned by her exquisite perfectly-shaped breasts.

But, a little voice inside of me whispered for some unknown reason,

"That's a man, a sex change."

After kibitzing a bit with "her" for weeks at "Faces", I finally got up the gumption - prompted no doubt by a couple of strong whiskies in my gut - to lean over and jokingly chide,

"So, are you a real woman?"

Well, I was flabbergasted by her response, to say the least!

Without skipping a beat, she suddenly pulled up her dress (I understand from onlookers that she wasn't wearing any panties) and shouted at me,

"Look, I have a pussy!"

Everyone in the room stared at her crotch in shock, while I looked away in embarrassment, in desperate search of a quick exit.

I wanted to fall through the dance floor!

Fortunately, a friend standing nearby, retorted on my behalf,

"Well, if you're a lady, then why don't you act like one?"

Ah, that was the crux of it, really.

The young beauty just recently had a sex change operation. And, although her body had been transformed into the feminine ideal, she was still thinking like a man!

Her desperate need to prove herself was a typical male response.

In contrast, a woman might have teased,

"Well, if you don't know now honey, you never will."

Or, something confident, witty, or clever like that.

The psychological "stuffing" is the key, I guess.

Sandy St. Peters was well-adjusted, and sure-of-herself, both onstage and off.

A class act!

On the other hand, Craig Russell needed to exorcise a couple of ghosts from his past.

Dame Edna?

Well, she's a different silk stocking, altogether.

Catch her act, if you can!



Dame Edna hails from down under!

Value Click, Inc. - dinged penalties, for deceptive business practices. Pop-up scourge of Internet!

Free Plasma TV...you're a boob, if 'ya believe it!


Several months ago, I was cruising the net when a pop-up ADVERTISEMENT shouted out at me on the screen,

"Congratulations! You've just won a Plasma TV"

In order to collect my prize, I simply needed to complete a survey!

After I clicked on the link, another aspect of the "contest" was revealed. In order to qualify for the Plasma TV, I was required to accept two free offers from a list of sponsors.

Like a fool, I clicked on. I mean, what could be the harm?

The choices were tantalizing...4 free issues of a Woman's Health Magazine, Life Insurance (provided I met the criteria that I be free of about thirty known afflictions in the common realm of diseases), secured credit card opportunities galore, free Elvis ring tones, you name it.

After I selected two of the tempting offerings, about fifty new pop-ups ads sprang to life on the screen; it appeared that now there would be an endless round of maneuverings from one level of the contest, to the next.

I gave up in frustration, just short of confirmation that my Plasma TV was on the way by overnight Federal Express, no doubt.

When I read in the Los Angeles Times today that "Value Click, Inc." - the disreputable company responsible for the scam on the Internet - got their proverbial t** caught in the wringer by the FTC, I jumped for joy.

Under the 2003 Can-Spam Act - which forbids deceptive e-mails and unsolicited commercial plugs that are misleading, not properly identified, and/or fraudulent in nature - the FTC summarily fined Value Click, Inc. 2.9 million dollars for breaking the law.

"Gotcha, a**holes!"

According to the news report, "...in most cases, it was impossible for the consumer to qualify...defendants' promised free merchandise without spending money," the FTC accused in their pleadings.

ValueClick Inc. is one of the largest Web advertising networks.

Merchants have criticized ValueClick, Inc. in the past for placing ads through affiliates that used security holes in consumer computers to install ad-spewing software. In that scenario (which I got scammed by) pop-up ads, banner ads, and e-mails touted free laptops, TV's and Sony PlayStation consoles, ad nauseam.

In respect to actual transactions on the world-wide-web, The Federal Trade Commission also accused ValueClick, Inc. and its two subsidiaries - Hi-Speed Media and E-Babylon - of falsely assuring customers that their personal financial data were secure. In fact, some credit card numbers and three digit verification codes weren't encrypted at all. Databases where data was stored was also not adequately protected, could be easily penetrated by skilled attackers.

In spite of the fact I never completed the dizzying contest process, over the next two weeks my e-mail box was inundated with about 300 pieces of spam a day. In fact, I was forced to abandon that e-mail service and open up a new account elsewhere, to elude the onslaught of the questionable offers.

Likewise, I was also forced to go through the time-consuming process of notifying all my clients, friends, and family members of the change of e-mail address, as well.

The FTC finding has rocked Value Click,Inc., a publicly-traded company based in Westlake, California. Yesterday, for instance, shares dropped over 7% on the market.

Analysts have also noted that the FTC action may put a damper on any Value Click acquisition attempts by Google, Inc., Microsoft in the near future, until the probe blows over.

Execs at ValueClick, Inc. skirted the issue of "wrongdoing" in a recent press conference, and alleged that the dispute involved "past practices".

Did they think if they clicked their heels twice, the scandal would go away?

Mona Lisa...controversy continues!

Las Vegas City Life...Andrew Kiraly, Managing Editor, publishes false statements, lacks Journalistic Ethics!

It must be the desert sun, or maybe there's something in the water, that makes journalists in Las Vegas so stupid...

A case in point, Andrew Kiraly - Managing Editor - of Las Vegas CityLife.

A few weeks ago, Mr. Kiraly contacted me to request an interview about a disturbing incident I reported on my blog in January, which "went down" at the Golden Nugget Hotel.

In a nutshell, I was walking through the rows of one-armed bandits one afternoon in the Casino, when a female security guard ambushed me, and demanded my I.D. in a rude insulting manner. I handed it over to her, but reeled over the fact that there appeared to be a case of mistaken identity or something. I mean, why was she harassing me?

When I asked her to explain her actions, she sought a quick defense. In response, she stated matter-of-fact that she spied me wandering about the casino floor, not betting, and looking suspicious.

Total nonsense!

In fact, in my hand I held a voucher that was dated and time-stamped, that verified I had been plugging coins into the slots for the previous half hour, contrary to her wild allegations!

Obviously, I caught the woman in a lie, trying to validate her unwarranted intrusion.

For good reason, I asked for her supervisor.

A pudgy, ineffectual man appeared, pooh-poohing my claims of inappropriate conduct. So, I asked to see his boss. At this point, he was quite adamant that he was the "top brass" at the Hotel Casino. Of course, I surmised his claims were false, and demanded that the "Manager" speak with me in person on the Casino floor, pronto!

At this juncture, Mr. Realmuto - the real Casino Manager - appeared.

After a brief discussion, he concluded that my complaints were well-founded. Realmuto assured me the Security Guard would apologize (or be suspended) and went on his way to take care of other Casino Business.

However, the Security Guard refused to come back to the floor and offer regrets.

So, I reported the distressing incident on my blog, warning tourists about questionable security practices at the Golden Nugget which might warrant a boycott.

Post: January 8, 2008

In spite of the fact Mr. Kiraly read the initial Golden Nugget post (which was self-explanatory) he asked me to respond to additional questions for the article he was penning. I complied with his request, by e-mail.

For a couple of weeks, I never heard back; so, I assumed he published the article.

Then, one day out-of-the-blue, he contacted me once again. On this occasion, he assured me he was basically ready to put the news report "to bed", but needed a couple of additional details clarified for the article.

At this juncture, he asked me to provide my last name.

Duh!

When I pointed out my name was at the top of my blog, he responded, "Whoops!"

Why kind of investigative journalist was this?

Then, to make matters worse, he proceeded to ask a couple of redundant questions. Even still, I remained patient, and provided thoughtful responses without delay to assist with his investigation of the facts.

Imagine my surprise when I was searching the world-wide-web last week and came across the article he'd written, rife with false statements.

For example, Mr. Kiraly reported that I refused to show my I.D. to the security guard.

A total falsehood!

Then, he proceeded to build a story on this false premise.

For example, he wrote:

"Now, strange things happen in casinos, but what followed was one for the books. Ayrs - steadfast in his refusal to show his I.D. and quickly becoming convinced he was the victim of some form of discrimination - drew a veritable chain of Golden Nugget management into a philosophical debate over whether he had to show his I.D."

The account was totally off!

There wasn't any philosophical debate over whether I should show my I.D. How could there be? I showed it upon request.

Mr. Kiraly got all his facts screwed up.

At issue was not whether I showed my I.D. - but rather - the false allegations the security guard made on the Casino floor, which not only embarrassed and humiliated me, but damaged my name and reputation to the other Hotel guests standing nearby.

Indeed, Mr. Kiraly's twisted account of the events, actually inferred that because of an "alleged refusal" to show my I.D., I was at fault.

Hogwash; nothing could be further from the truth.

But, Mr. Kiraly's lack of journalistic skills did not end there.

When I contacted him to inform him of the "factual errors", he had the audacity to assert that I neglected to disclose I showed my I.D.

False!

The reason I chose to conduct the interview by e-mail, was to ensure that all my statements were in writing, and to prevent any misquotes. In my response communication, I pointed out that I saved copies of all the previous e-mails, and that I was able to verify he had been properly informed.

I also noted my dismay over the fact he appeared to try to shift blame on me.

To date, there has not been any reply from Mr. Kiraly.

After firing off a communication to the Editor, I received word back that a retraction would be printed.

But, how do you unring a bell?

I noticed at their web site this past week that the editor has noted in the article, at their online web site, that a mistake was made in respect to my "alleged" refusal to show I.D.

But, even in this instance, the paper has failed miserably in respect to journalistic ethics.

Normally, a newspaper prints a retraction in a "separate" notice, in a prominent place in the publication. The purpose of this procedure is to ensure attention is drawn to the fact that the journalist made a mistake in reporting the facts, and to make a good faith effort to ensure readers are aware of it.

At Las Vegas CityLife...they recognized they were legally and morally obligated to correct the errors; but, bottom line, it's evident by their sloppy patch-up job that they did not want to draw attention to the fact their managing editor made such grievous errors in respect to a representation of the facts.

I have to wonder at this point how a top-level editor managed to mess up so royally.

Does the man have difficulty reading and understanding English (and comprehending facts) or is he just out-to-lunch?

All things considered, I can't help but ponder the notion that he chose to misrepresent the facts, to suit his own agenda.

Either way you look at it, the man is a menace to the field of journalism.

Andrew Kiraly...looking a little bleary-eyed!

St. Patrick's Day...dance a jig, drink green beer, party hearty!

My father, Victor, was born in Ireland and was a fiddler who played with the popular - "Jolly Millers" - in Hog's Hollow in the West End of Toronto many years ago.

On occasion, he even got down with well-known celebrated Canadian musician - Don Messer - who had a popular variety show on the CBC in his heyday.

My father's family immigrated to Canada around the turn of the century, and settled in York County, in the Toronto area.

So, that makes me Irish in decent.

Obviously, I'm inclined to get out and celebrate St. Patrick's Day this evening...as any self-respecting Irishman should, no matter how weak the bloodline!

God knows, the Irish like to party-hearty, eh?

I expect a number of revelers will be dancing the jig and singing a glorious round of - "When Irish Eyes are Smiling" - around the Nation today.

And, I just betcha, after a few tipsy laddies have downed a green ale or two, they may go off on a wild jaunt in search of a leprechaun or two - and that elusive pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

They can dream, can't they?

St. Patrick, an Apostle of Ireland, was born at Kilpatrick, near Dumbarton (Scotland) in the year 387.

St. Patrick is believed to have driven the snakes from Ireland.

Once a pagan himself, St. Patrick is one of Christianity's most widely-known figures.

At age fourteen, he was captured during a raiding party and taken to Ireland as a slave to herd and tend sheep. During that era, the country was a land populated by Druids and pagans, so Patrick learned the language and practices of those people.

During his captivity, he turned to God in prayer.

In one moment of reflection, he wrote,

"The love of God and his fear grew in me more and more, as did the faith, and my soul was rosed, so that, in a single day, I have said as many as a hundred prayers and in the night, nearly the same. I prayed in the woods and on the mountain, even before dawn. I felt no hurt from the snow or ice or rain."

Patrick's captivity lasted until he was twenty. He escaped his captors after having a dream from God in which he was told to leave Ireland by going to the coast. There he found some sailors who took him back to Britain, where he reunited with his family.

In another prophetic dream, Patrick saw a vision of Ireland, where the people were calling out to him,

"We beg you, Holy youth, to come and walk among us once more."

He began his studies for the priesthood shortly after that event, and was later ordained by St. Germanus, the Bishop of Auxerre, whom he had studied under for years.

In a short time, Patrick was ordained a bishop, and was sent to take the Gospel to Ireland.

He arrived in Ireland March 25, 433, at Slane.

One legend says that he met a chieftain of one of the tribes, who tried to kill him. By a show of mystical power, Patrick was able to convert Dichu (the chieftain) to Christianity.

Patrick preached the Gospel throughout Ireland - and by way of his message - was able to convert many...including Kings, their families, and entire kingdoms.

Patrick not only worked many miracles, but also wrote of his love for God in "Confessions".

After years of living in poverty, traveling, and enduring much suffering...he died March 17th (461) at Saul, where he built the first church.

St. Patrick's Day is honored on March 17th, his religious feast day, and the anniversary of his death in the fifth century. The Irish have observed this day as a religious holiday for thousands of years.

The modern secular holiday is based on the original Christian Saint's feast day also thought to be the date of the Saint's death.

In 1737, Irish immigrants to the United States began observing the holiday publicly in Boston.

Today, the tradition continues with people from all walks and heritages by wearing green, eating Irish food, and attending parades.

St. Patrick's Day is bursting with folklore; from shamrocks (which represent the Holy Trinity) to the tradition of pinching those that are not wearing green.

On St. Patrick's Day, which falls during the Christian season of Lent, Irish families would traditionally attend church in the morning and celebrate in the afternoon. Lenten prohibitions against the consumption of meat were waived and people would dance, drink, and feast—on the traditional meal of Irish bacon and cabbage.

The first St. Patrick's Day parade took place in the United States, not Ireland. Irish soldiers serving in the English military marched through New York City on March 17, 1762. Along with their music, the parade helped the soldiers to reconnect with their Irish roots, as well as fellow Irishmen serving in the English army.

Some say, the Irish are favored by the Lord.

May the luck of the Irish be with you, now and always!

Versace Menswear FW 2008-09

Craigslist...should someone be held accountable?

Craigslist is a popular Internet web site which offers up a bulletin board for individuals who seek to buy, sell, or trade goods.

The site is also rife with ads for a multitude of services, including notices pertaining to housing.

According to the latest figures, at least thirty million internet users post notices on the highly-cruised space each month.

In 2006, attorneys opined that Craigslist openly permitted discriminatory practices in respect to rentals, which they allege, were in direct Violation of the U.S. Fair Housing Act. For example, landlords posted rental notices that warned that those in the minority classes, or with children, need not apply.

For this reason, a Chicago-based Law Firm brought legal action against the Internet heavyweight to stop the questionable practices.

Just recently, a three-member panel of Judges in the U.S. 7th Circuit Court of Appeals, ruled that Craigslist "is not liable for discriminatory housing ads posted on its website."

The upper-level court based their decision on a "finding" that Craigslist was not the publisher of the ads (like a newspaper would be) - and therefore - not liable for the discriminatory acts of the post-it masses who frequently utilize the site.

Personally, I believe that their assessment is misguided.

Craigslist does provide the "space"; hence, they should be held accountable for what is posted there.

At a minimum - as is the case at YouTube and Facebook, for example - Craigslist should monitor the site for potential abuses, and take appropriate action, when called for.

In a civilized society, that is a reasonable expectation, don't you think?

I trust that the litigants will proceed to the Supreme Court, if necessary, for a more in-depth review. Obviously, justice cries out for such action, since it appears that the Judges who ruled on the issue to date are suffering from brain rot and should be put out to pasture.

Quote...thoughts from the Ozone!

I used to worry about what people would think
Then, it dawned on me one day -
They usually don't...

Julian Ayrs
Thoughts from the Ozone
Collection of Poems
1972