The love you save

Enjoy this clip from Ed Sullivan of a young — and black — Michael Jackson. Almost makes you sad, but the song’s cheeriness overwhelms.

On the plus side, they would eliminate the guy behind “Girls Gone Wild”

The culture committee of the Iranian parliament approved on Monday a bill sentencing to death producers of ‘pornography’, videos and films deemed vulgar by the country’s censorship.

Everyone is gay

So Tobey Maguire and Leonardo DiCaprio allegedly shared a bed. Does that make them gay? Do you care?

You know you do. Or, at least, the media thinks you do. I admit to being a tad, shall we say, curious.

A new book claims the supermarket tabloids will go to great lengths to “out” Hollywood stars, even if they’re not gay (i.e. Maguire and DiCaprio, former members of the infamous “Pussy Posse”). This should not surprise you.

I have firsthand experience — not about Maguire or DiCaprio (dammit). In another life, I moonlighted as gay gossip columnist Romeo San Vicente.  I take no credit for that hideous name. There have been several incarnations of San Vicente, but I was the first, and worst. My dislike for “Will and Grace,” Madonna and Streisand doomed my fate.

But that didn’t keep me from being headhunted by The National Enquirer. They thought I knew a lot of gay dirt, when I fact I knew none. Most of my dirt was recycled from other columns or sites (attributed, of course). As for my blind items — well, they were made up. Pretty easy to do with blind items. I guess I fooled the Enquirier.

One of their editors took me out to a fancy lunch, enticing me with a chance to join their staff (and earn a very nice paycheck). I wasn’t so much tempted as intrigued, as I was trying to jumpstart a script about an aspiring actress who makes it big, complicating her relationship with a tabloid reporter.

Anyway, the editor gave me a peek into the give-and-take world of The Enquirer. “You know about Ricky Martin, right?” “Of course.” (I didn’t really, but like most everyone else I suspected he was gay.) “Yeah, we were going to run with the story about his lover dying of AIDS but we held it ’cause he’s giving us some exclusives.” I pretended to know about his boyfriend. Lots of nodding, knowing glances — I’m a gifted fibber. 

He went on to ask me about what I knew, and I made up some bullshit that I won’t repeat. Heresay, I called it. I didn’t take the job, figuring it would be much more difficult to break into Hollywood if everyone hated me (tabloid reporters aren’t exactly beloved out there). Especially ones who open the closet door.

LA Police at it again

Watch them overreact at an immigration march in Macarthur Park.

We’ve seen this before, as I posted yesterday.

Besides the DNC meltdown, I’ve had my share of run-ins with intemperate LA cops. Once, while driving along one of the seedier strips of Sunset Blvd., I tossed a cigarette butt out the window. Not proud of it, but I also didn’t know it was against the law. A cop pulled me over, ticketed me and made me pick up the butt from the gutter.

“How do I know which one is mine?” I asked, since there were about 1,000 butts to choose from. The cop insisted I pick one up, even if it wasn’t mine.

Minor incident, but revealing of the departmental mindset of the LA Police — protect and bully, not serve. (Of course, there are many exceptions within the LAPD.)

Perhaps Chief William Bratton has changed that (Daryl) Gates-ian attitude some; he called the officers’ actions in yesterday’s scrum “inappropriate.”

Cap du jour

A dust storm gathers over Khartoum, the capital of Sudan in north east Africa. (Photo: AP)

What I meant was …

(Via Andrew Sullivan)

“Victory means exit strategy, and it’s important for the president to explain to us what the exit strategy is.” — George W. Bush, April 9, 1999, criticizing President Clinton for not setting a timetable for exiting Kosovo.

“I think it’s also important for the president to lay out a timetable as to how long they will be involved and when they will be withdrawn.” — George W. Bush, June 5, 1999.

Speaking of good music

I’ve got Jarvis Cocker’s “Don’t Let Him Waste Your Time” on a continuous loop — watch the very inventive video here.

We torture

That’s no revelation. I’m just sorry I’ve been so slow to comment. Reading this TNR piece on Bagram, "the other Guantanimo," made me palpably angry. Again, too late. I haven’t been blind, just silent. It’s time to vent.

The father of our fucking country denounced these practices, but they continue, unfettered. And no one seems to give a good goddman, including our president, who claims to be a follower of "The Prince of Peace." Would Jesus torture? I know George Washington wouldn’t:

"Always some dark spirits wished to visit the same cruelties on the British and Hessians that had been inflicted on American captives. But Washington’s example carried growing weight, more so than his written orders and prohibitions. He often reminded his men that they were an army of liberty and freedom, and that the rights of humanity for which they were fighting should extend even to their enemies. … Even in the most urgent moments of the war, these men were concerned about ethical questions in the Revolution."

I don’t care what bureaucratic flunkie George Tenet says. John McCain, who was tortured, says it doesn’t work, and it’s immoral. I can’t vouch for the former, but I know the latter is true. The U.S. is more than a piece of land, it’s an ideal, one that should be protected as stringently as any man, woman or child.

Is this an America you can be proud of?

From the start, the processing of prisoners entailed some grisly practices. When Captain Carolyn Wood assumed control of the prison in the summer of 2002–she ran it until taking over Abu Ghraib a year later–interrogation tactics came to include beatings, anal violation with sharp objects, blows to the genitals, and "peroneal" strikes (an incapacitating blow to the leg with a baton, a knee, or a shin). We know about these tactics because an internal Army investigation into two prisoner deaths was obtained by The New York Times. These detainees–a 22-year-old taxi driver and the brother of a Taliban commander–were found dead and hanging from the wrists by shackles. A coroner’s report said the two men died after being subjected to dozens of peroneal strikes. According to the coroner’s report, the "pulpified" legs of one of the corpses looked as if they had "been run over by a bus."

During these early years, one of the most notorious figures at the prison was Private First Class Damien M. Corsetti, known in turns as the "King of Torture" and "Monster." Corsetti tattooed an Italian translation of the latter moniker across his stomach. In the end, a military tribunal cleared Corsetti of all charges. His lawyer successfully argued before the tribunal that the rules for detainee treatment were unclear: "The president of the United States doesn’t know what the rules are. The secretary of defense doesn’t know what the rules are. But the government expects this Pfc. to know what the rules are?" But, in the course of proving his innocence, Corsetti revealed several damning details. One of the prisoners he called to testify on his behalf told the military judges that a Saudi detainee recounted how Corsetti had threatened to rape him. He had even taken out his penis and yelled, "This is your God!"

Some call this coercive interrogation. I call it a disgrace.

Full tilt

I could write a long review of the Arcade Fire show last night, but concert reviews generally read like crap, so I’ll keep it short. They did, indeed, rock.

The venue — the Civic Center, where it’s always 1982 — was oddly appropriate, a better place to watch a concert than I remembered. I had gone there last, on my 16th birthday, to see Sam Kinison. Do I even need to mention that Arcade Fire was more satisfying?

Many highlights, but the crowd of 4,000 (I’m guessing) singing along with “Intervention” and “Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)” was as rousing an experience as I’ve had in years. The only disappointment: they opened with “Black Mirror” (reminescent of the Pixies, and my favorite song off Neon Bible) while I was in line for a cocktail.

He said what?

When I see the worsening degeneracy in our politicians, our media, our educators, and our intelligentsia, I can’t help wondering if the day may yet come when the only thing that can save this country is a military coup.

– Thomas Sowell, National Review Online

Suffocating moderates, enabling extremists

M. Zuhdi Jasser blames the media in this must-read column:

It is time for the MSM to stop protecting Muslims from one another and to stop stifling the debate many anti-Islamist Muslims would like to wage against leading Islamists. If Muslims are going to form a public expression of Islam which is reconciled with western democracies which separate religion and government, this debate against Islamism needs yet to begin, let alone blossom into cultural change for Muslims.

Islamists fear nothing more than credible and genuine debate against the core political ideology of Islamism from pious anti-Islamist Muslims. With an ideological counter from anti-Islamist Muslims the Islamist emperor “has no clothes”. At every level, they are using America’s naïveté about Islam in order to continue their theft of Islam for the political agenda of Islamism. The Islamists know that anti-Islamist Muslims rob them of their minority trump card of Islamophobia and force them to come to terms with the anti-freedom, and anti-liberty and anti-pluralistic ideology of Islamism. Anti-Islamist, pro-Islamic Muslims expose the real motives of Islamists—which is the exploitation of the spiritual path of Islam for political and governmental power and coercion.

The love you save

Enjoy this clip from Ed Sullivan of a young — and black — Michael Jackson. Almost makes you sad, but the song’s cheeriness overwhelms.

Everyone is gay

So Tobey Maguire and Leonardo DiCaprio allegedly shared a bed. Does that make them gay? Do you care?

You know you do. Or, at least, the media thinks you do. I admit to being a tad, shall we say, curious.

A new book claims the supermarket tabloids will go to great lengths to "out" Hollywood stars, even if they’re not gay (i.e. Maguire and DiCaprio, former members of the infamous "Pussy Posse"). This should not surprise you.

I have firsthand experience — not about Maguire or DiCaprio (dammit). In another life, I moonlighted as gay gossip columnist Romeo San Vicente.  I take no credit for that hideous name. There have been several incarnations of San Vicente, but I was the first, and worst. My dislike for "Will and Grace," Madonna and Streisand doomed my fate.

But that didn’t keep me from being headhunted by The National Enquirer. They thought I knew a lot of gay dirt, when I fact I knew none. Most of my dirt was recycled from other columns or sites (attributed, of course). As for my blind items — well, they were made up. Pretty easy to do with blind items. I guess I fooled the Enquirier.

One of their editors took me out to a fancy lunch, enticing me with a chance to join their staff (and earn a very nice paycheck). I wasn’t so much tempted as intrigued, as I was trying to jumpstart a script about an aspiring actress who makes it big, complicating her relationship with a tabloid reporter.

Anyway, the editor gave me a peek into the give-and-take world of The Enquirer. "You know about Ricky Martin, right?" "Of course." (I didn’t really, but like most everyone else I suspected he was gay.) "Yeah, we were going to run with the story about his lover dying of AIDS but we held it ’cause he’s giving us some exclusives." I pretended to know about his boyfriend. Lots of nodding, knowing glances — I’m a gifted fibber. 

He went on to ask me about what I knew, and I made up some bullshit that I won’t repeat. Heresay, I called it. I didn’t take the job, figuring it would be much more difficult to break into Hollywood if everyone hated me (tabloid reporters aren’t exactly beloved out there). Especially ones who open the closet door.

LA Police at it again

Watch them overreact at an immigration march in Macarthur Park.

We’ve seen this before, as I posted yesterday.

Besides the DNC meltdown, I’ve had my share of run-ins with intemperate LA cops. Once, while driving along one of the seedier strips of Sunset Blvd., I tossed a cigarette butt out the window. Not proud of it, but I also didn’t know it was against the law. A cop pulled me over, ticketed me and made me pick up the butt from the gutter.

"How do I know which one is mine?" I asked, since there were about 1,000 butts to choose from. The cop insisted I pick one up, even if it wasn’t mine.

Minor incident, but revealing of the departmental mindset of the LA Police — protect and bully, not serve. (Of course, there are many exceptions within the LAPD.)

Perhaps Chief William Bratton has changed that (Daryl) Gates-ian attitude some; he called the officers’ actions in yesterday’s scrum "inappropriate."

Cap du jour

A dust storm gathers over Khartoum, the capital of Sudan in north east Africa. (Photo: AP)