Our ongoing documentation of the real New York—the portraits of those forgotten by the real New York—sees Justin Rocket Silverman and Richard Blakeley journey up to Harlem, where they meet Twone, a betatted historical dude. Should you wish to make contact with Twone, his digits are available upon request.
This clip from Rosie O'Donnell's collection of video weirdness captures the moment when Rosie realizes the terrible truth that, unless we're willing to pay thousands of dollars for elective surgery (or lay off the donuts), none of us are immune to the ravages of aging and the tug of gravity. Say what you will about Rosie— and we probably have—at least she's not vain.
Today's special guest on "The Martha Stewart Show" was none other than belletrist/inhalant connoisseur Lindsay Lohan. Gawker Splicemaster Alex Goldberg has assembled some of the finest moments. Martha kind of comes off like your mom's best friend: She wants you to know that she's cool and hip, but she's also pushing the message that maybe you should cut down on the partying, you know? Gripping stuff.
Last night's "CSI: New York," a show we cannot watch for very long because we are old and the dizzying camera pans give us vertigo, featured the acting talents of one John McEnroe, playing an arrogant tennis legend known for his outbursts. What caught our attention, however, was the mention of NYStalker.com, a fictional website that tracks the locations of celebrities in real time. It's yet another victory for citizen journalism, and for America. Also, we kind of feel like "CSI" king Jerry Bruckheimer owes us some money.
On today's Martha Stewart Show, unstoppable party juggernaut Lindsay Lohan—who could not even be slowed by a pricey, totally unnecessary outpatient rehab program—finally lets her defenses down (once Martha gets you into her kitchen and has you whipping up profiteroles, you're fucking toast) and reveals the one person who could possibly end her reign of clubbing terror: Georgia Rule co-star Jane Fonda. As reassuring as it is to discover that there's at least one authority figure the troubled actress might actually listen to, we fear that new ET correspondent Dina Lohan might be so deeply hurt that she might use her next Rule assignment to hunt down Fonda for an ugly confrontation, grabbing a fistful of the older actress's hair and screaming, "So, now you're trying to steal my meal ticket, you commie bitch? Don't fuck with a mom from Strong Island with nothing to lose!," a tussle during which a peacemaking Cojo tragically loses an eye to Dina's wildly flailing fingernails.
Yesterday, a sad and staged publicity event took place outside our office. The "protest," aimed at "freeing" Paris Hilton, drew shockingly few spectators. Most of them, in fact, were press, including such luminaries as the Sun's Lenore Skenazy and the Post's Mark Bulliet. But what did average New Yorkers think about the whole thing? Since The Assimilated Negro and Richard Blakeley only work within 50 feet of the office, they came out to ask the hard questions.
Late last night, all of America came to a standstill as Lindsay Lohan turned up on Letterman to help promote Georgia Rule (we'll assume it was a good faith effort to make up some of the time she missed due to "exhaustion" and "immaturity"), hoping that the perpetually troubled starlet might reveal what's actually going on in those blurry News of the World bathroom stall photos.
As part of our continuing attempt to chronicle the real New York—the one you won't find in the glossy pages of certain city magazines who may or may not be edited by the new David Remnick—we present the second installment of our Video Look Book series. This episode finds Justin Rocket Silverman and Richard Blakeley in Williamsburg, where they encounter an industrious sculptor.
Today, with little fanfare, Columbia Pictures releases the emotionally restrained art house film Spider-Man 3. ("The actors are unconscious. The writing is barely legible," raved Rex Reed.) We sent The Assimilated Negro and Richard Blakeley to see if the public is super-stoked for the cinema this weekend.
NICK DOUGLAS — "I know who I am, I know what I have created, and I am the king of location." Mylocator, according to the creator's pitch video on Vator.TV (a clearinghouse for terrible business pitches), is a solution for sites that "don't have no good location" and won't be found without a search engine — or a LOCATOR NETWORK! Oh boyz! Apparently it's supposed to be, well, LookSmart or Yahoo circa 1997. I won't mock the guy's adorable muppet-like voice, and I won't call this the most WTF video ever, because clearly nothing holds up against "Vagina Power." But the video, shown below, is pretty funny, if a bit sad.
While Extra seems to have been first to e-press with the story of David Hasselhoff's self-produced "cry for help" documentary, we've been informed that the actual video of the actor's darkest moments is exclusive to rival Entertainment Tonight, which has quickly posted the above teaser-trailer to alleviate any confusion over the footage with which ET will ruin millions of family dinners. We can only hope that this ugly custody dispute doesn't hamper the troubled Hasselhoff's attempts at putting his life back together through the redemptive power of syndicated TV programming.
· Though pretty straightforward, this video's title, Drunk Bill Murray Almost Fights a Guy, still oversells things a bit: The video's so shaky that it's hard to tell if that's actually Murray, what his level of intoxication might be, or how close to fisticuffs the New Orleans encounter came. Still: Blurry video of a famous guy doing stuff! Probably! That's gotta be worth 41 seconds of your time.
·Brett Ratner's reveals his simple, yet effective, strategy for dealing with paparazzi who want to take pictures of the chicks he's nailing: payoffs.
· We don't care what that e-mail says, we still think that's Zach Gailifianakis in the Comcast "Spider-Man-Obsessed Roommate" commercial.
· Hey, unicorns!
A hangover-nursing Sunday afternoon and A&E's Sons of Hollywood marathon seemed to us like a marriage made in heaven, and in just a few short hours we were able to catch up with the utterly banal yet curiously engrossing misadventures of L.A.-based childhoood friends David Weintraub (the brains), Sean "ben Rod" Stewart (definitely not the brains), and Randy "ben Aaron" Spelling (good-natured heir and failing actor). We've already offered a taste of the boys' patended brand of knuckleheaded dysfunctionality with this spun-sugar disagreement spinning out of control. Now, hot off the editing bay of Gawker Media digital video artisan Alex Goldberg, we bring you this entertaining montage of Stupid Shit Sean Said, including a classic exchange with "spiritual advisor" Baba G. over a family dinner that features some priceless Candy Spelling reaction shots.
Bay Area land baron George Lucas dropped by to chat with Conan O'Brien on last night's show from San Francisco, stoically enduring a procession of cheaply revised Star Wars characters meant to elicit a chuckle from a creator who wasted untold millions developing his own ridiculous affronts to the 'Star Wars' legacy. The unamused Lucas did offer a grudging thumbs-up to R2-Mr.T2 and seemed indifferent at best to Liposuctioned Jabba the Hut, but we think we detected a flash of annoyance at the appearance of Jewbacca, whose unexpected embrace of Judaism makes a mockery of the Wookiee's deep-seated faith in the Force.
On Oprah yesterday, the soon to be ex-wife of New Jersey's ex-governor debuted her candid tale of betrayal and heartbreak—at least, the parts of it the Post hasn't already covered—and also her adorable little-girl lisp. Here she's telling about how Jim "Gay American" McGreevey instructed her to behave like a certain heroic first lady. "Jackie Kennedy? Her husband was murdered!" Dina recalls saying. It's kind of the funniest Jackie reference since The House of Yes!
Last night, New York magazine scored a terrifying and decisive sweep at the ASME mag awards. (Much more on this soon!) Apparently none can resist New York's glossy to the point of chapsticky take on New York. And who can resist its popular Look Book feature? It's a window into the kind of New York we all not-so-secretly crave, a world of aspiration and consumption and youth. Now, if you walk down any actual block in this town, you're aware that there's a whole other New York, a place whose less fortunate inhabitants rarely find themselves inside the glossy pages of Adam Moss' chronicle of the beau monde. Don't these people also deserve to show off their style? So in honor of the Adam Mossbot and his many awards, here's our take on the Look Book; a chronicle of the real New York. Justin Rocket Silverman and Richard Blakeley are your interlocutors.
Because we are contractually obligated to pass along all shaky video footage involving actors publicly indulging their frustrated dreams of rock stardom, we spotlight this clip of Scarlett Johansson singing back-up for The Jesus and Mary Chain at this past weekend's Coachella festival, a performance that satisfied the Lost in Translation star's longtime wish to sing a single, off-key phrase in front of thousands of music fans so delirious from a day spent baking in triple-digit heat that her presence on stage would barely be noticed.
Never once in the above clip (thanks to Deadspin for bringing this joy into our lives on a Monday afternoon) do we see any booze cross suspiciously enthusiastic action star and proud New Jerseyian Bruce Willis' lips during this interview at a break in yesterday's Nets-Raptors game, so it would unfair to attribute his slurry, semicoherent endorsements of both his companion's promising career and his new movie to alcohol intoxication; clearly, his potshot at Cybill Shepherd, his seemingly insane claim that this summer's Die Hard sequel is better than the original, and his "Yippee-kai-yay, motherfucker!" sign-off were fueled by the excitement of playoff basketball, and not by enough $14 jumbo Bud Lites to kill an actor of half his tolerance.
NICK DOUGLAS — So says Guy Kawasaki in a video interview (embedded below). The man who marketed the first Mac now markets himself on his blog, which is the only blog he regularly reads. In fact, the only way to get read by Guy is to talk about him: "I do, obviously, have my reader set up to check for instances when [blogs] mention me." The self-evangelist even admits to religiously checking his rank on the blog search site Technorati. "I really care... I don't think it's because I'm insecure, because I'm not insecure."
