Well, let me say this right off, Mark Ebner’s Six Degrees of Paris Hilton is even better than Hollywood Interrupted. Let’s face it, you’re as interested in the sleazy dirty side of Hollywood as much as I am. It feeds our cynical need for turning over the rocks. Sleaze. Back stabbing. Cons. And did I mention drug-obsessed? If you’re used to getting your weekly view of Hollywood culture from the tabloids, with their ubiquitous full color Hubble telescope cellulite shots of stars’ thighs or the latest implant list, or who’s with who now, why not upgrade? Feast on the underside of the real Hollywood. By the way, despite the title the book is only indirectly about that condom-sheathed glitter turd Paris Hilton; mostly it’s about the undertow of glitzy interconnections, the raunchy comings and goings of debt-collector double-murderer (quoth Hilton, “that’s hot”) and all around smooth operator Darnell Riley, among others.
Archive for February, 2009
The post title does not refer to the recent Wall St/corporate conflagration. It is the title of a new book about a terrorist attack that occurred in the 1920′s…
“…The bomb’s target was presumed to be the House of Morgan, which sat like a blockhouse just across the street from where the explosive had been left in a horse-drawn wagon……As with all terrorist attacks, most of the victims were innocent bystanders, “messengers, stenographers, clerks, salesmen, drivers,” men and women for whom “Wall Street was not a grand symbol of American capitalism” but “a place to make a modest living by selling milk, driving a car, typing reports, recording sales.” Only seven of the dead were over the age of 40. Five of them were women, four of them teenagers……Who would do such a thing? A bevy of the nation’s most prominent lawmen and private detectives immediately descended on Wall Street, blaming first anarchists, then paid agents from Lenin’s new government in Moscow. But years of investigation yielded nothing — no indictments, no trials, no culprits. No one ever came forward to take responsibility for the crime, or to state what it was supposed to accomplish, and before long it had dropped from public view, lost among the sensations of the racing, giddy ’20s…” Go here for the rest of Kevin Baker’s NY Times review of The Day Wall Street Exploded by Beverly Gage.
Tags: Arabs, Atrocity, Israel, War, War crimes
‘For 54 years the fate of a young Bedouin girl who disappeared in the Negev desert was relegated to rumour and a single entry in the diary of David Ben-Gurion, the prime minister of the fledgling Israeli state. “It was decided and carried out: they washed her, cut her hair, raped her and killed her,” he wrote. After that the case became one of the state’s earliest secrets, and no more than hearsay passed between soldiers. Now the Israeli newspaper Ha’aretz has used previously classified army documents to reveal the full story of what Mr Ben-Gurion called a “horrific atrocity”.’
Crux of the deed: ‘In August 1949, an army unit stationed at Nirim in the Negev shot an Arab man and captured a Bedouin girl with him. Her name and age remain unknown, but she was probably in her mid-teens. In the following hours she was taken from the hut and forced to shower naked in full view of the soldiers. Three of the men then raped her. After the Sabbath meal the platoon commander, identified by Ha’aretz as a man called Moshe who had served in the British army during the second world war, proposed a vote on what should be done with her. One option was to put her to work in the outpost’s kitchen. Most of the 20 or so soldiers present voted for the alternative by chanting: “We want to fuck”. The commander organised a rota for groups of his men to gang rape the girl over the next three days. Moshe and one of his sergeants went first, leaving the girl unconscious. Next morning, she complicated matters by protesting about her treatment. Moshe told one of his sergeants to kill her. She was forced into a patrol vehicle with several soldiers, two carrying shovels, and they drove off into the dunes. When the girl realised what was about to happen she tried to run, but only made it a few paces before she was shot by a Sergeant Michael.’
Above is from here.
Research revealed in Psychological Science “found that women formed a negative view of their peers much quicker than men did…” In other words, women are so full of venom and jealousy they will give no quarter of relief to anyone who disagrees with them, especially other women. In other other words, if women were toasters bodies wouuld be flying out hitting the ceiling all day long. Read more.
Update: here’s a recent example.
David Kross and Kate Winslet. Please, Rosenbaum begs the powers that be, don’t give this beast an Oscar.
“This is a film whose essential metaphorical thrust is to exculpate Nazi-era Germans from knowing complicity in the Final Solution. The fact that it was recently nominated for a best picture Oscar offers stunning proof that Hollywood seems to believe that if it’s a “Holocaust film,” it must be worthy of approbation, end of story. And so a film that asks us to empathize with an unrepentant mass murderer and intimates that “ordinary Germans” were ignorant of the extermination until after the war…Indeed, so much is made of the deep, deep exculpatory shame of illiteracy—despite the fact that burning 300 people to death doesn’t require reading skills—that some worshipful accounts of the novel (by those who buy into its ludicrous premise, perhaps because it’s been declared “classic” and “profound”) actually seem to affirm that illiteracy is something more to be ashamed of than participating in mass murder. From the Barnes & Noble Web site summary of the novel: “Michael recognizes his former lover on the stand, accused of a hideous crime. And as he watches Hanna refuse to defend herself against the charges, Michael gradually realizes that she may be guarding a secret more shameful than murder.” Yes, more shameful than murder! Lack of reading skills is more disgraceful than listening in bovine silence to the screams of 300 people as they are burned to death behind the locked doors of a church you’re guarding to prevent them from escaping the flames. Which is what Hanna did, although, of course, it’s not shown in the film. As I learned from the director at a screening of The Reader, the scene was omitted because it might have “unbalanced” our view of Hanna, given too much weight to the mass murder she committed, as opposed to her lack of reading skills. Made it more difficult to develop empathy for her, although it’s never explained why it’s important that we should…” Read whole review here.
Update: The producers have their say here.
Tags: Nazis, Sadism, Women
Girls just wanna have fun: Nazi party girls after a day’s work
…the participation of women in the crimes of the Nazis has been blended out of the collective conscious of the Germans for a long time,” she [Kathrin Kompisch] wrote in her book, Female Perpetrators: Women under National Socialism. Many women were in fact used as assistants to the doctors who sterilised and murdered disabled people and as guards in the concentration camps – like the character played by Kate Winslet in her Oscar nominated role in the film The Reader. “The history of National Socialism has long been reduced to one that blamed men for everything,” said Ms Kompisch. “This was and is the popular picture.” The true picture was very different. “Women typed the statistics of the murdered victims of the SS Action Squads in the east, operated the radios which called up for more bullets, were invariably the secretaries – and sometimes much more – in all the Gestapo posts,” she said. “And at the end of the war they tried to diminish their responsibility by saying they were just cogs in the all-male machine which gave the orders… Many women were in fact used as assistants to the doctors who sterilised and murdered disabled people and as guards in the concentration camps… Read rest of article here.
Tags: Love, Marriage, Wedding photos, Weddings
In setting up a wedding photo could that temporary phenomenon known as infatuation ever warrant these scenarios? Yes it could.
“Groom sitting at a faux witness stand, on trial for cadaver trafficking. Someone from wedding part wearing a black robe, holding a gavel, and sitting on a dais. Ethnically diverse guests in the jury box. Bride sitting on jury trading lustful glances with the defendant.”
Of course there is this scenario too, albeit during the honeymoon perhaps (which is about the time the infatuation begins to wear thin and there just ain’t much left):
“Bride is crying. Groom is sitting at a table. In front of him on the table are lines of pure Columbian cocaine, s razorblade, and a tightly rolled $20 bill. Groom is wearing only an undershirt, boxer shorts, and socks, which have holes in them. Wedding rings are off–everything was sold a long time ago to buy blow…Bride is a broken shell of a woman and is tugging on groom’s arm, begging him to stop.”
These two scenarios are from Frank Ferri (“My Ideas for Staged Photos That Set Me Apart From Other Wedding Photographers”) at this site.
Tags: Autobiography, Changes, David Sedaris
Life could be easier, much easier, if we only knew then what we know now (variable factor being the point in time). Anyway if only we could experience an epiphany before zero hour of our naivety, just before we blow the moment and want to seek refuge in a grocer’s freezer–or worse.
“…How was it that one moment you could look so good and the next you would give almost anything to crawl into your grocer’s freezer, settling beneath the pot pies until you reached that mysterious age at which a person could truly think for himself. It would be so peaceful, more drowsing than actual sleeping. Every so often you’d come to and notice that the styles had changed…You would look at the world as if through the window of a bus, hopping out at that moment of time you instinctively recognized as your own…You could look and act however you wanted…On leaving you’d pass a woman dressed in a floor-length skirt…A beaded headband, delicate wire-rimmed glasses: shed ask you for a quarter, and you’d laugh, not cruelly, but politely, softly as if she were telling a joke you had already heard.” This excerpt is part of an autobiographical story by David Sedaris, The Change in Me (from Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim). In other words, if you only knew then what you know now.