|
Thursday, 03 December 2009 09:00 |
Meredith Baxter Admit to World She's Gay; World Sheepishly Admits to Having Forgot Meredith Baxter
 Hollywood, California: Meredith Baxter, star of 1980s sitcom Family Ties, might have said to the world ‘I’m gay,’ but exclusive to The Daily Mirror is the story of how the world completely forgot who she was.
‘We were at this little affair, a party out in Palm Springs’ said the world,’ and we saw this woman heading toward us. Blonde hair. You could tell she was good looking once upon a time, and we knew we had met her before, my wife and I, but for the life of us, we just couldn’t place her. So we immediately turned toward each other and started going through the alphabet. A, B, C, D…When we got to M, we knew that was either the first or last name. Margaret? Mary? No, it was something different. Not an ordinary name.’
With Ms. Baxter and her consort drawing close, Mr. And Mrs. World went from nervous to frantic. ‘It’s always embarrassing, isn’t it,’ asked the world. ‘I always say to my wife, if we ever meet someone on the street or at a party and I don’t introduce you, it’s because I’ve forgotten their name. Just introduce yourself. But this time it wasn’t going to work because we knew we had both met her before.
‘I think what threw us,’ said the wife, ‘is that she had a girl on her arm, and it looked very much like they were a couple. We knew she had been married before, had kids, so we just didn’t put it together.
There was a moment of tension as introductions were made and it seemed that the world would have to admit to having forgotten her name. That was till Ms. Baxter’s lady friend finally gave it away. ‘Meredith,’ she said, ‘I can use a drink,’ and for the world the light went on. ‘Okay, so we had the name’ said the world, ‘but we still couldn’t name the show she was on. My wife was thinking Kojak and I seemed to have some recollection of seeing her on The Ken Berry Wow Show. It wasn’t till afterwards that we found out she was the mother on Family Ties, but in our defense, you’re talking twenty-something years ago. Besides, that was eighties,’ said the world ‘and I was doing a lot of crack back then.’
It was unknown if Ms. Baxter’s lady friend ever got that drink she so badly wanted, the world saying it had to leave early to get up for a six a.m. shoot.
In a related story, while gay rights groups are lionizing Ms. Baxter for coming out at the age of 62, other factions are calling it a cheap attempt for publicity by a fading actress. Amongst those in the vociferous opposition is Valerie Harper, television’s Rhoda who is also the current land-speed record holder for a septuagenarian sitcom actress. Though having suffered a fractured jaw (see article dated Dec. 2) it was in a statement made through her agent that Ms. Harper decried Ms. Baxter’s mad grab for attention. ‘So she’s sleeping with a woman,’ said Ms. Harper. ‘Big deal. Let her strap a rocket to her ass like I did and then maybe the world wouldn’t forget her so quickly.’
|
|
Wednesday, 02 December 2009 09:00 |
Valerie Harper Fractures Jaw, Sets Land Speed Record
 Bonneville Salt Flats, Utah: Taking a break from her busy theatre and film schedule, Valerie Harper, the feisty actress beloved for her role of Rhoda Morgenstern on The Mary Tyler Moore Show, donned a goldenrod helmet and matching fireproof suit last weekend to rocket herself into the history books.
It was on a cloudless Saturday morning that the actress’ crew of twelve made final preparations for the first of two passes required for official records. After strapping the seventy-year old Harper into the cockpit of her jet-propelled vehicle, the experimental Rhoda X-12, they recalculated wind speed, adjusted their logarithms, and gave her the signal to fire the twin Rolls-Royce engines. At two minutes past eight, the hush of the flats was broken by the roar of velocity. There was nothing to be seen but a blur of black across the arid backdrop, but it was a perfect pass, the Rhoda X-12 attaining a speed of 762.71 mph before Ms. Harper deployed the parachute. The next day, she had to do it again.
An average of both passes is used to determine success, and for Ms. Harper to earn the fastest recorded time for a septuagenarian sitcom actress, she would, on Sunday, have to reach a minimum speed of 762.98 mph. Again, the crew made their calculations, and after giving the thumbs up, Ms. Harper was on her way. Less than three seconds later, the flats exploded with cheers as Ms. Harper smashed through the old record by .77 mph, but the celebration was short-lived, for a miscalculation in downforce caused the X-12 to pitch severely to the right just before deceleration. Despite her bumpy ride, the actress managed to maintain her cool and manually correct the situation but not before sustaining a hairline fracture to the right side of her mandible. Once  removed from the cockpit, her goldenrod helmet split in two, Ms. Harper regained consciousness and was then flown to a nearby medical facility. After a three-hour surgery to wire her jaw, a glowing Ms. Harper fielded questions from reporters. When asked of her future plans, the daredevil actress replied, ‘Zji zjan zjon zjying zjajound zja zjorld zjin zja zjazjoon.’
The previous land speed record for a septuagenarian sitcom actress had been set in 2004 by Facts of Life star Charlotte Rae. Ms. Rae could not be reached for comment.
|
|
Tuesday, 24 November 2009 09:00 |
San Pedro Beach Bums To Get Big Screen Treatment
‘Football! You Bet!’ It was a catchphrase uttered by every sixth grader for nearly six weeks in the fall of 1977 and now Sony Pictures is gambling $30 million to bring it to a new generation of fans. ‘It caught on like wildfire,’ said Sony executive Gary Albright, ‘all the kids said it,’ but the show about a lovable ragtag group of friends who enjoyed carefree days in the sun and nights at the disco proved to be far too ahead of its time and was unceremoniously dumped by ABC, the network on which it aired. ‘Years later, they regretted that decision,’ said Albright. ‘They tried to get the cast together for another go, but this was in the days before the internet and no one knew how to get a hold of the actors.’
An all-star cast is currently being sought for the film with names like Sir Cedrick Hardwicke being tossed around, and the script is now being developed by Tony Anderson and Frank Kennedy, the team responsible for 2007’s mega-hit screen version of The New Temperature’s Rising.
|
|
Sunday, 22 November 2009 16:24 |
40 May Be The New 20 But Weird Glitch of the Universe Makes 36 the New 56½
Cambridge, Mass: A team of physicists at M.I.T, a well-known school for the sexually underprivileged, yesterday announced a startling discovery that is sending thirty-six year old men and women around the globe into immediate depression. ‘We had been following the trajectory of Villechaize’s Comet when we noticed a slight fluctuation in its tail,’ said Dr. Paardenkooper, eminent astronomer and sometime dry cleaner, ‘and while we first believed it to be a major rip in the time-space continuum, it seems to be affecting only people of that age.’
The rip, he went on to explain, is similar to one that occurs in blouses and trousers, only it’s in deep space and couldn’t possibly be fixed without incurring the high cost of invisible weaving. ‘But even that’s a lost art,’ he sadly noted. ‘I mean, I knew a guy in Somerville who used to do that kind of work, but he retired a few years ago.’
For those born in 1973, the instantaneous aging of 20.5 years while everyone else continues to enjoy chronological regression elicited strong feelings of resentment. ‘Why us,’ asked Carl Satenstein, a resident of the trendy Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, New York. ‘Here I just bought a new skateboard and now I can’t ride it because of my sciatica.’ From around the nation his sentiment was echoed as news of the discovery spread, and at the National Center for Disease Control agents were flooded with calls from disturbed thirty-six year olds, most of them wanting to know if they should update their Facebook accounts. ‘It’s really a matter of personal ethics,’ stated Tom Larrabee, spokesman for the Center, ‘but, generally, I would say yes. There’s just something inherently creepy about fifty-six-and-a-half year olds pretending to be something they're not.’
In an attempt to come to terms with their new age, however, there has already been seen a substantial increase in the number of baseball-capped men driving two-seater convertibles while beauty parlors are reporting record numbers of women looking to have their hair cropped and spiked. ‘It’s a good look for them,’ said Helen Dubois of Sunshine Scissors, a cut-rate hair salon in a once flourishing mall. 'It says, I plan to age gracefully but I’m still funky and edgy so don’t write me off yet.’
Perhaps the most poignant statement on this odd quirk of the universe came from none other than that grandfather of punk, himself, Iggy Pop. When apprised of the shocking revelation the sixty-two year old legend sympathetically shook his gaunt head and said, ‘Really? That sucks.’
|
|
Monday, 21 July 2008 18:07 |
Well, it's been a few years now since Thom Browne introduced his short suits, and despite the hoohah from the press, we still don't see them on anyone. True, publishing The Cad keeps us behind the typewriter for a fair number of hours these days, and we're not in the office environment as much as we used to be, but we should think that our travels about Manhattan Island would produce more than one or two sightings of this supposed fashion phenomenon. Yes, we've been drinking and dining in Soho and West Village, areas that are said to be hubs of Thom Browne activity, but the only TB suit we've seen around in the last two months is the one in the window of Tokio, a second hand clothing store in the East Village. At a price of $2,500, there are no takers.
The accompanying article is from The Los Angeles Times, January 13, 1958. The 'matador pants' referenced in the highlighted paragraph immediately caught our attention and set us off on a hunt for some archival photographs or illustrations. Unfortunately, it wasn't to be, and so we have to presume that whatever design house that offered this first genesis of the Thom Browne look never brought them to market. Thus, it can now be said that the matador look has achieved that difficult rank of timeless style; they've been dismissed by men generations apart.
|
|
A Message to Rudy, Thirty years later |
 |
 |
 |
|
Written by Jack Newcastle
|
|
Friday, 18 July 2008 14:22 |
 Being both a fan of Jerry Lewis and rude boy style – the Jamaican ska look of the sixties notably revived by bands like Madness and The Specials in the seventies – it would seem natural that I would have long taken to the combination of white sock and black loafer. I hadn’t. As a kid, I had raided the local thrift stores for sixties mod and continental suits to emulate my heroes, but as for their footwear of choice, I had this complete psychological block that precluded my venture into that realm. It was one of those styles that I knew looked better on someone else and that if I tried it, the results would be nothing less than disastrous. Like that devil-lock I would sport for about six months in the eighties. I had been thinking Glenn Danzig but it came out…No, it’s too horrible to describe, so let’s just say that even The Misfits would have screamed in terror from that haircut of mine.
Over the years, I did take to light colored socks: powder blue, cream, yellow, tan, and even a screaming red, but never white, till this week. My nephew said he was in need of new trousers and I needed to get away from the typewriter for an hour, so on Monday afternoon, I got the car out of the garage and we took a little drive down Queens Boulevard to Macy’s. He picked out a few things to try on and while he did, I picked up a few necessities like t-shirts and socks. Of the latter, Gold Toe were going three pair for twenty-one bucks, but being that I had enough blue and grey, and that I rarely wear brown, I desultorily selected three pair of black. When my nephew returned from the dressing room, I was in the middle of an epiphany. ‘You know what,’ I said to him. ‘I’m going to try white,’ and he raised his brow. Sure, Why not? They were there on the rack, they looked crisp and clean, and what did I have to lose if I didn’t like them? Seven bucks? I had been feeling like I needed to try something new in my wardrobe anyway, and this was a quick and cheap way to do it.
Yesterday seemed right for taking them out for a spin. I had some research at the library to perform, but with the heat I was going to go casual: a vintage 50s turquoise short sleeve shirt, the narrow black trousers available through our Kingston 66 line, a pair of black brogues, and, of course, the white socks. As soon I was all rigged out and looking in the mirror, I realized I had been, for all these years, missing out on a really sharp style. With a lift of trouser from shoe, those socks popped - much more than the yellow, much more than the powder blue. I felt jaunty in them. Rude boy cool, and, as such, my second thought was that while the wingtips looked good with them, I might have to go out next week to find a pair that would really mate with this new addition to my wardrobe. Hmmm… Dare I try loafers? We’ll just have to see what’s out there.
|
|
Written by David Devereux
|
Have you been wondering what you'll do when called upon to enter dangerous places? Some places think guns are a bad idea, and others won't countenance tasers, mace, tear gas or even the simplest anti-tank rocket. And even if you are allowed to carry something, there are all the difficulties in making sure your tailor accommodates whatever 'little friends' you choose to take with you.
But now we have the answer - an indestructible umbrella designed for stick-fighting!
Behold, and wonder!
Personally I'm waiting for them to start making the thing with a whangee handle.
|
|
Thursday, 03 July 2008 05:00 |
|
Mulatto Supremacist Movement Quietly Comes and Goes
by Jack Newcastle
Atlanta, Georgia: ‘We are the best of both worlds,’ fired the Reverend Rondhu Silverstein, his billowing brown and white cassock allowing him to take full command of the room, ‘and it’s time for us, once again, to proudly – proudly - call ourselves mulatto.’
Before the turn of the twentieth century, mulattos – those usually good-natured offspring produced from the union of African-Americans and Caucasians - considered themselves a race unto their own, and for the last six months, the Reverend Silverstein has been busily at work on a manifesto calling not only for governmental recognition of his people but for his people to, if necessary, take up arms in order to secure that recognition.
‘Our history and heritage is unique in that we can lay claim to the accomplishments of black and white. If there is any doubt to our superiority, just look at all we’ve done for humanity. It is we who have invented the telephone, the radio, the P-Funk All-Stars, and the polio vaccine. Tell me, what other race can say that?’
His argument brought a thunderous applause from the some two-hundred plus crowd, followers coming from as far as Toronto to attend this first rally for the World Mulatto Movement, though a few expressed reticence in actually taking to arms.
‘We first heard about the Reverend through the internet,’ said Ed Begley Jr., a non-mulatto and quasi-actor who supports the cause, ‘and we thought, this is something special. This is something we need to be part of. I’m just unsure if violent action is the right methodology.’
The Reverend Silverstein disagrees. ‘We gave the government a chance,’ he said. ‘Only small demands were made: our own check box on forms public and private, for example. Go fill out an employment application anywhere in Atlanta, and they’ll have listed Caucasian, African-American, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, and Eskimo. Eskimo! When was the last time you saw an Eskimo working the Slurpee machine in Atlanta? But they got them on the form and we’re not. So now it’s time for rebellion.’ When asked about his chances for success for government overthrow, the reverend quickly replied, ‘Fifty-fifty.’
For the better part of an hour, Reverend Silverstein held his audience captive, but then just as swiftly as the movement began, it ended.
‘Mulattos,’ he charged, ‘need to keep the race pure. No acts of miscegenation will be tolerated. Mulattos do not mix with blacks. Mulattos do not mix with whites. Mulattos must only marry and procreate with other mulattos.’
And then came a hand, uneasily raised from the audience. It belonged to a Mrs. Shaniqua Antonini of Austin, Texas. ‘But, Reverend,’ said Mrs. Antonini, ‘when two mulattos produce a child, wouldn’t that child technically be a quadroon?’
Taken aback by the question, Reverend Silverstein opened and closed his mouth a few times, gathered up his notes, and announced ‘Thanks for coming.’ A stunned audience filed out of the auditorium in a somewhat dejected manner.
Fifteen minutes later, the Reverend’s wife, Edna, issued a statement on his behalf. ‘My husband has decided it’s not in his best interest to pursue this line of thought and will be busying himself with other projects,’ one of them reportedly being a spec script for How I Met Your Mother.
|
|
|
.png)