Don’t get me wrong: no one will likely hold a benefit for any of the characters in Dominick Dunne’s last novel, Too Much Money. But the uber rich and socially connected do have their share of woes. The novel, which the celebrity justice journalist and “high society” novelist had just completed at the time of his death last fall, is a delicious finale to an interesting and impressive career ( for more on Dunne, see my tribute in the September archive).

Fans of his previous novels will recognize some familiar characters including the scribe’s gruff and lovable alter ego, writer Gus Bailey. Here Gus like Dunne is battling cancer and a slander lawsuit. Gus’s legal troubles mirror that of Dunne who had been sued by former California congressman Gary Condit over remarks he made on TV implicating the pol in the death of D.C. intern Chandra Levy. If you follow Page Six and the social columns you’ll recognize some other thinly disguised characters, too. Adele Harcourt is a dead ringer for Brooke Astor, the late philanthropist whose scandalous end-of-life treatment at the hands of her own son found its way into the gossip pages and the courts. There are mentions, too, of notorious cases Dunne chronicled in Vanity Fair for twenty-five years.

While Dunne never earned the reputation of Fitzgerald or even Capote (something he lamented from time to time), he is swirling around the same terrain. And no one in recent years has quite captured the rarefied world of the dwindling elite upper class and the climbers who try to claw their way in. The literary equivalent of eating peanuts, Too Much Money will keep you consuming pages at a fast and furious clip. And that sort of tribute should delight any author. I had so much fun, I passed the book on and started re-devouring one of his earlier novels, An Inconvenient Woman. If that’s not homage, Dunne-o what is!

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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It’s official. Obscurity is the new fame. Hear me out: with so few of us obscure folks left, we are now the coveted ones, leading quiet mysterious lives, roaming around with nary a paparazzi in sight. Oh, to be us. The few. The proud. The unknown.

When few people were famous, fame meant something. It used to be associated with accomplishments or good deeds. Sure there have always been notorious people who got attention for crimes and brazen bad behavior. But back in the day, such infamy wasn’t cherished. Now it seems everyone wants in. No matter how the fame is attained. For those willing to risk utter humiliation, the non-exclusive reality TV arena is the easiest route to coarse, ephemeral fame. And the big bucks that usually accompany it.

Case in point: The Jersey Shore , MTV’s inexplicable phenomenon follows the sexploits of a bunch of uneducated, ill-mannered louts. This is not suggest the louts are complete idiots: they managed to hold the network hostage to the tune of $10K an episode each for season two of the popular reality show, which, by the way, will be filmed in some resort to be named later(and not at the Jersey Shore). The cast even appeared this week on the popular pop culture clearinghouse, The View, fielding– with seriously dimwitted charm–questions about the show’s stereotypes and their own futures.

On Wednesday, the Octomom spent a few of her exhausting fifteen minutes on The View’s couch. In the segment (I think they gave her two) that I cringed through she laughed her cartoonish maniacal laugh umpteen times and managed to drop in her forthcoming book another half dozen. Give it a watch if you dare. But don”t say I didn’t warn you about the head spinning and nausea such a viewing may induce.

Speaking of books: I had a conversation with an agent last week that sums up the current state of our culture.

“Stop with the fiction already. No one’s buying it. I can’t sell it,” she told me flat-out.
“Well, some people are still publishing fiction. Look at the Bestseller list,” I protested.
“Last time I looked you’re name wasn’t Danielle Steel. Or Stephen King.”
“So what’s a girl to do?”
“I dunno. Maybe a memoir. You could turn that clunker radio novel back into a memoir.”
“What do you mean turn back into?”
“Isn’t it based on your experiences?”
“Loosely. But a lot of it is made up. It’s fic…it’s a novel.”
We’re on the phone; but I can hear the eye roll. “That’s okay. It can be repackaged.”
“Uh, didn’t that kind of back fire on James Frey a few years ago?”
“Yeah, but they’re still doing it. Now they just put a disclaimer at the beginning. Augusten Burroughs has been getting away with murder for years.”
“I’m not so sure that’ll work for me.”
“So try something self-helpy,” she offered, alluding to my background as a counselor and creativity coach. “That might work.” Then she let out an old school raspy cigarette infused chortle and added, “Go get yourself a reality show. Then come back and we’ll talk.”

Then she lamented how envious she was that a colleague had just signed her third “housewife.” Housewife as in that ludicrous Bravo TV franchise that I admittedly indulge in during the NYC and New Jersey seasons as a guilty pleasure. It’s true, almost every Real Housewife has a book deal. They write–or rather have ghost scribes write–about diets or manners or exercise. Even the dumb ones like Teresa–she of the famous NJ table flip–who probably have never read an entire book in their lives–have scored deals.

But who wants to be in league with these characters? Better to be one of the unchosen few. Unless. Wait, I could have a show circumventing annoying agents, obnoxious editors and crazy clients. Not to mention my hilarious family and friends. On second thought that won’t work. They’d wind up filming us sitting around making snarky comments as we watched other reality shows.

Hey, think I just stumbled upon next season’s inexplicable hit.

Drive safe. Play nice. Think fame.

aba

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Huey Lewis has always had a sense of humor about his success. Here he takes on the celebrity fueled re-make of “We Are The World.” I’m not sure if he did it especially for The Jimmy Kimmel Show which aired it. But the song is available on i-tunes and donations can be made at world25.org, where you can see the beautiful, star-studded video. All proceeds benefit the Haiti Relief effort. So good going, Huey.

A special thanks to Radio Graffiti regular Shana Brown for tipping us off to this amusing and worthy video. Talk about “fun and functional.” If you have a tip for a story, video or event, please drop us a line, too.

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It didn’t come down to money or funny papers. But the news is jolly nonetheless as the Abbey Road Studio has been spared EMI’s scrap heap. After a full-tilt public rally cry–which consisted of a lot of noise on facebook and twitter and separate offers from Andrew Lloyd Webber and his former lyricist Tim Rice to purchase the building–English Heritage has stepped in, and listed for preservation, the hallowed haven where the Beatles recorded much of their prized catalog. The group which had tried to get Abbey Road listed back in 2003 finally came to its rescue citing the building’s “contribution to music and culture.”

So fans and musicians will continue to make the iconic pilgrimage. And the Sundance series Live from Abbey Road will live on, too. By the way, the latest installment features an eclectic cadre of contemporary artists serving up killer covers from the Abbey Road album. Highlights include: Counting Crows rendition of half the “Golden Slumbers” medley; Matchbox Twenty’s “She came in Through the Bathroom Window,” Imelda May’s “Oh, Darling;” and Sugarland’s acoustic spin on “Come Together.” Check out the Sundance website for re-airings.

I made the sacred sojourn some years back with my sister during a Beatles London tour. As we made the famous walk across Abbey Road ( we kept our shoes on; after all the rumors Paul had to endure, dirty British pebble souvenirs on the soles didn’t seem worth it), our tour guide dropped her accent. We smiled, she winked, whispered to two fellow Americans, “They expect a British accent.”

Hey, I expected to like real English fish and chips, too. But that disappointment is best saved for another day.

Enjoy the Beatles’ Abbey Road montage. And remember: the love you take is equal to the love you make.

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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Okay, you might want to file this under: “You’re telling me this now?” But be generous and file it under: “Better late than never.” If you haven’t been watching TNT’s surprise hit Men of a Certain Age, there’s still time to catch a mini marathon tonight, culminating in the much anticipated season finale. The show–which I guess can be categorized as a “dramedy–” follows three pals coping with life’s amusing and humiliating middle aged twists and turns. Ray Romano plays semi-pro golfer turned party store owner Joe with a more nuanced likability than he displayed on his uber popular sit-com Everybody Loves Raymond. Joe’s gambling addiction cost him his marriage and has pierced a promising new relationship, but a lucky score helped him buy a new house he hopes will please his two adolescent kids. The guy’s heart is in the right place, especially when it comes to helping his troubled son Albert overcome anxiety and his dad (a nice guest turn by Robert Loggia) a retired hardware store owner land a part-time gig at a big box chain store.

Andre Braugher–an actor with a penchant for playing smart guys like Detective Frank Pembleton on the acclaimed Homicide–may have even surpassed that stellar performance here as Owen, a car salesman battling his weight and his former basketball star father’s shadow. Braugher exudes such sweet vulnerability, even those with less romantic natures, may tear up during some scenes between Owen and his dad and his wife (the lovely and feisty Lisa Gay Hamilton).

Scott Bakula rounds out the group as the Peter Pan playboy, Terry. a hard luck occasional actor turned accounting temp and apartment building manager. Terry both yearns for and is repulsed by a real adult life and all the commitment and sacrifice it may entail. Should Men have the long run it deserves, Bakula, too, may outshine his Quantum Leap days.

Men of a Certain Age strikes the right balance between comedy and drama. Just like life. With sharp writing and amazing acting,the characters have grown on the audience. It’s easy to embrace these three guys as you would three friends you hadn’t seen in years. Catch up with them tonight at on TNT at 10.

Then let’s hope they come back to visit real soon.

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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Holy Moses! I guess Elton John’s been under the flamboyant radar too long. Think the Rocket Man is craving attention? Can’t think of another explanation for his controversial comment about Jesus in the latest edition of Parade magazine. “I think Jesus was a compassionate super-intelligent gay man who understood human problems ” EJ offered. “Try being a gay woman in the Middle East–you’re as good as dead.”

OY! As a heterosexual Jewish woman, I have about as many dibs on Christ’s sex life as I do a ham on white with mayo, but Elton, bubala, you shouldn’t know from the tsoris your comment will cause. To have expected anything other than swift outrage from the conservative Christian establishment would have been naive. Natch Bill Donohue, President of the Catholic League was quick to issue a statement. “To call Jesus a homosexual is to label him a sexual deviant, ” he said.

Love Elton. I’m a big fan. Have lots of his albums, many on the scratchy vinyl of my early adolescence. Spent many an hour with friends trying to decipher the mysterious symbolism hidden in his classic songs. Even debated why he ( or more aptly lyricist Bernie Taupin) named the son in “Levon” Jesus. Couldn’t be just because “he liked the name.” And why did he send him to the finest school before the family balloon business thrived? And what of The New York Times declaring “God is dead?” These were all heady questions for precocious eleven year olds sneaking over, for the first time, to the dark side of FM radio in the ’70’s.

I don’t know why Elton would venture into this turbulent wave of controversy like some madman across the water. Have no idea on what he’s basing this assessment of Christ’s sexual proclivities. Don’t really care about them. I think Jesus’ sexuality is irrelevant. If you’re a Christian, you believe he died for your sins. If you’re Jewish, Buddhist, Hindu, or any other religion, agnostic or even atheist, you may admire Christ’s teachings and loving spirit. In any case, his sexuality doesn’t come into play.

Elton, I guess, wanted to stir things up. He once said he he’d like to “ban all religion.” I wouldn’t go that far, though I do have a problem with organized religion and the divisiveness it has caused throughout the world and throughout the ages.

Elton’s music has no doubt soothed many souls. And he’s done wonders with his charitable works,too. But this comment only adds to the cultural cacophony. And maybe not in a particularly constructive way. Gay Christians are in dodge and scramble mode, distancing themselves from Elton’s remarks.

God, for her part, probably finds the kerfuffle amusing. A little weekend diversion from all the hatred and bloodshed on the planet. By Monday, though, she’d want Elton to get back to work making music that helps us discover common, loving ground.

Enjoy this classic clip from a BBC studio concert in 1971. Early Elton, beautiful and moving. Without all the mishagoss.

Drive safe. play nice. Think peace.

aba

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With Indiana’s Evan Bayh bidding a hasty bye bye to the Senate, speculation is now swirling around rocker John Mellencamp’s possible Senate run as a famous favorite son candidate. There’s already a “Draft Mellencamp” page up on Facebook and blogs like The Hill and Mediaite are reporting on a potential run for the heartland crusader who has garnered decades of good will as a Farm Aid co-founder and troubadour with powerful songs like “Scarecrow,” “Jackie Brown” and “Pink Houses.”

An unabashed liberal, he was a supporter of John Edwards (back before all the sleazy revelations) and the populist “Two Americas” platform. Mellencamp nixed the McCain campaign’s use of his song “Our Country” as he did yerars ago when Reagan tried to co-opt “Pink Houses.” While he went on record calling both Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama “not liberal enough,’ Mellencamp performed at Obama’s inauguration.

A commenter on the Mediaite site said he may face problems in Indiana as the Mellencamp family received millions in farm subsidies. Not sure if that’s true and even if it is, why that might prevent a run. In the past, when asked about politics, the rocker has, like Bruce Springsteen, demurred.

We’ll see. There is a big difference between the artist’s temperament and that of a senator, of course. For one thing, artists are accustomed to actually getting things done. But I’d love to see Mr. Mellencamp take on Washington. With Jack & Diane tagging along for some small town talk about health reform at the kitchen table. Not to mention Orin Hatch could resurrect the Singing Senators. Ain’t that America?

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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Did you watch Rachel Maddow last night? the mild-mannered lib took aim at the nitwittery of hyperbolic media maestro Glenn Beck. Check out my latest  News Junkie Post article. I’ve included the entire video segment. Of course Beck, like his buddy Bill O, never utters MSNBC or their “commie” hosts by name.  So be on the look out for the way Beck hilariously disguises Rachel with a little black bar across her face. Too funny and oh, so Beck!

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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Okay, maybe you better call Candy Finnegan from A&E’s Intervention and get the ball rolling. Seems I just can’t help myself. I keep saying I won’t get sucked into another “reality” show, but I just couldn’t resist Undercover Boss. How could I? CBS’ latest foray into the manipulative form of pseudo-documentary TV has CEOs of big companies ditching the designer duds and private jets for ONE arduous week in the trenches, tackling a variety of front line jobs in their own companies. You wanna watch too. Admit it. Try it. You’ll like it. Maybe even love it.

The first installment, which debuted after the Super Bowl, featured Larry O’Donnell the CEO of Waste Management. The guy tagged along for a garbage route, worked at a recycling plant, picked up garbage at a landfill (was even fired from that one) and actually cleaned toilets at a fair ground. What a sport. And a sweetheart of a guy, too. Larry actually arranged a promotion and salary bump for a hard-working job juggler who was able to stave off foreclosure.

Last Sunday’s episode featured Hooters CEO Coby Brooks as he “winged” it through his busty beer and chicken empire, vowing to improve the chain’s public image through ad campaigns and good works, without “messing with the Hooter girl uniform.” Good luck with that one, Mr. Brooks. He actually offered a fascinating back story–battles with his dad, the rough and tumble company founder.

Brooks may have convinced himself that there’s nothing degrading about women pushing poultry and cleavage in skimpy outfits, but most of the women he asked when he was handing out flyers with a couple of Hooters girls in Texas thought otherwise. And even the CEO inured to the sexist agenda of his own billion dollar company flinched big time at the management style of franchise manager “Jimbo” who routinely subjects his employees to blatant sexual harassment. From his demeaning inspections to humiliating contests he calls “reindeer games,” Jimbo’s management style could have Brooks and his company in serious legal hot water by epidosde’s end. The day culminated with a bean eating contest in which the woman lapping up the most beans–with hands behind her back–gets to leave a slow shift early. Jimbo, perched on a stool that can barely contain his overfed slovenly body, plays frenetically with a rubberband and tells “Scotty” as Brooks is calling himself, “There are no rules.”

Brooks was appalled and almost broke his cover to “give Jimbo a talking to.” Instead, he dialed the franchise owner and said they had a serious problem. Back in the board room, another male exec upon hearing of Jimbo’s drill said, “I think we can legally re-train.” Huh? No one even suggested the guy get the big old axe. When asked if his Hooters’ “career” could be salvaged, Brooks said, ‘I’m not so sure.” But by the time he unveiled his true identity to Jimbo, the defiant tub ‘o’ lard pointed to his fiscal prowess. Still, the lunk had a light bulb moment when Brooks said he wouldn’t want his two daughters (whose potential stints as Hooters girls he earlier said he’d welcome) working under him, so to speak. ‘I get it now,” Jimbo said.

That was that. No firing. Jimbo wasn’t even subjected to some sensitivity training. His only punishment: he had to apologize to his employees. And the end-of show update said he’s “changed his management style.” Yeah, right. If anyone deserved a public flogging and swift termination it was Jimbo. In a time when so many good, hard working people are getting fired due to no fault of their own, it’s a slap in the face to see an undeserving lout catch a break. And I think Brooks has left himself and his company vulnerable to a class action law suit. Gloria Allred, paging Gloria Allred.

It may be manipulated to make the boss look good, even noble (Brooks also rewarded deserving employees; giving a fermale manager an all expenses paid vacation and donating $50k in the name of another tough but fair manager to a charity of the guy’s choosing), but Undercover Boss is a sweet and smooth elixir for hard times. The show airs Sundays at 9 pm on CBS.

Next week, the CEO of Seven Eleven plunges into the slippery world of Slurpees. Sorry, Candy, looks like I may be a little late for my own intervention. Gotta get a Big Gulp.

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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Welcome! RG regulars and folks who’ve wandered in: this is the new and improved home of Radio Graffiti. Stop by for my musings on pop culture and politics. I’ll probably focus more on the former, as you can find my political commentary regularly on News Junkie Post and other sites like whowillwinthe 2012election and politrix.

So from movies to music, media to literature and all the weird and wonderful characters roaming around creating a buzz ( or trying to), I’ll offer my observations, sandwiched between wry slices of life.

As always, my aim is to make RG an interactive experience. So feel free to comment, suggest and contact with stories, ideas, people & products you think deserve attention. A big thanks to Michael Brown and Betty for their creative expertise and patience in getting the new site up and running with alacrity. If you need help starting or changing your site, they’re great folks to work with. Contact Michael at  Genabit Hosting.  He’ll take good care of you!

So hold on for an exciting ride: Radio Graffiti, where pop culture and politics collide at the speed of life.

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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The clever Jib Jabbers caught my fancy with this “classic” silent short. Brangelina watch your back… the First Couple could make the screen sizzle and sell their share of popcorn.

BTW:my recent unofficial, unscientific survey of blog hoppers and radio listeners, has candy beating flowers for Valentine’s Day gifts. But romantic dinners trump all. And with all his money, Donald Trump better come up with all three (rim shot optional).

All of the above are sweet treats as far as I’m concerned, though I also enjoy teddy bears, books and music. And, fyi, if you’re planning on giving your sweetheart a “deferred gift,” like say, Broadway show tickets, it’s a good idea to actually come up with the goods before the next holiday rolls around. And while you’re bestowing imaginary big ticket items, some of us would enjoy an imaginary trip to Paris. Just a suggestion.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Drive safe. Play nice. Think LOVE!

aba

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Another Maverick Named McCain Rattles the GOP | NEWS JUNKIE POST<

Think the Tea Partiers are McCain fans? Think both dad John, who faces a tough Tea party opponent in former AZ congressman J.D. Hayworth and his outspoken daughter Meghan, give these fright wingers a bitter lump of common sense and decency in their foggy cup. Read more about the younger McCain– and her hopes at luring young people into the tattered GOP in my News Junkie Post piece. Please Tweet & Digg as you see fit. There are other cool articles and writers on NJP, too. Check ‘em out!

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.
aba

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I swore I was going to ignore the crazy Tea Party Rally last weekend. Planned to steer clear of Sarahcuda’s $115,000 keynote speech. But I can’t resist a mini rant. Caribou Barbie just annoys me, I guess. While she was busy taunting Obama supporters asking, “how’s that hopey changey stuff workin’ for ya now?” and deriding the President for using a teleprompter, Palin was “palming” her talking points.

She scribbled “energy, ” tax cuts, ” and ‘Lift America’s Spirit” on her palm, and appeared to glance out it frequently during the Q & A following the big speech.Think she’d have those conservative 101 ideals ingrained on her brain. Still, gotta hand it to her, at least Palin’s an old-fashioned fourth grade kind of cheater!

And a hypocrite, too. Last week Sarchuda went gunning for White House Chief-of-Staff Rahm Emanuel after a dopey and insensitive remark he made last August surfaced in an article. Okay, he shouldn’t have used the ‘R’ word. But he shouldn’t be fired over it either, as Palin has demanded. The fact that Emanuel called progressives boycotting Democratic congressmen who didn’t support a public option f— retarded back in August wasn’t just insensitive to the mentally challenged it was a big political tell, too. It was a clear indication that the White House was never eager for or willing to fight hard for full-scale health care reform.

But I digress. Back to Palin. She wants Rahmbo tossed, but she defended Rush Limbaugh’s big mouth. Rush added his two cents last week skewering political correctness saying, “people are so insulted because somebody called a bunch of retards, retards.” Nice, Rush. So when pressed to comment, Palin first sent a lukewarm rebuke via a spokesperson that decried general “insensitivity” without mentioning Limbaugh by name. Then days later, after the Grand Pooh Bah’s people must have called the Wasilla compound, Palin said there was a big difference between Rahm and Rush. Yeah,something like 400 lbs and 300 IQ points “What Rush said was satire,” she said.

Yep, Rush is big on satire.You know the way Beck is big on comedy. It’s all unintentional.

Think the quitter,half term governor of Alaska’s got thing for double standards? You betcha!

Drive safe. play nice. Think peace.

aba

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So I didn’t go to a Super Bowl party(saved myself something in the neighborhood of 4,500 unnecessary calories). I always manage to dodge those invites… not a big football fan. But had Oprah called, well, I’m pretty sure I could have summoned the interest. Kudos to both Letterman and Leno. Somehow the famous trio managed to keep the spot under wraps and eluded the paparazzi. The back story has Jay arriving last week in a faux mustache and hoodie at the Ed Sullivan Theatre. Well, done, folks. Hopefully some hatchets were buried.

I didn’t even watch the game. But I pointd my remote in CBS’ direction during the halftime show and managed to see a bit of The Who… not bad for geriatric rockers. Guess the ‘kids” are still alright.And I’m happy for the Saints who won their first Super Bowl in their 45 year history. Good, too, for the battered city of New Orleans still recovering from Katrina’s devastation.

And the commercials have gotten their money’s worth….along with the Letterman promo, my fave is the Betty White Snickers ad. Abe Vagoda get a nice little punch out of it, too. Sorry, they pulled the plug on the Betty White spot. Some legal mumbo jumbo. Oh well, hope you got a chance to catch it. In protest, think I’ll pass on the Snickers and hit the M&Ms instead. Wait, aren’t they made by the same company?

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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They rolled out the Oscar nominations today. And you’ll find more surprises in Cher’s costume closet and more cliffhangers at Joan Rivers’ plastic surgeon’s office.

All the acting categories have clear favorites: the oft-neglected, now five time nominee Jeff Bridges who scored the top prize at both the Golden Globes and SAG Awards–considered predictors for the Big trophy–looks poised for a long over-do win for his acclaimed role in Crazy Heart . Same can be said for first time nominee Sandra Bullock, whose role in the Best Picture nominated The Blindside ,also scored top prize at the Golden Globes and SAGs. Ditto for Best Supporting nominees Mo’Nique and Christoph Waltz, winners for Precious and Inglorious Bastards, respectively.

Of course, the Academy has been known to throw a curve or two. Remember when William Hurt won all those years ago for Kiss of the Spider Woman? Or Gwyneth Paltrow’s inexplicable victory for her lightweight turn in Shakespeare in Love? If there’s a curve this year, look for a tie bewteen Bullock and Meryl Streep for her amazing performance as Julia Child in Nora Ephron’s uneven Julie & Julia.

The real drama could be a battle of the exes as James Cameron’s Avatar faces off against ex-wife Kathryn Bigelow’s The Hurt Locker in a few categories most notably Best Director and Best Picture. Bigelow has already nabbed the coveted Director’s Guild Award, usually a solid Oscar predictor. But Cameron won the Golden Globe.

The Best Picture nominees are:

Avatar, The Hurt Locker, Precious, An Education, A Serious Man, Inglorious Bastards, The Blind Side, District 9, Up and Up in the Air.

The big question: now that there are 10 Best Picture nominees, how long will the show be? Place your bets. I’ve got dibs on April 15. I figure they’ve got to get home in time to hit the local H&R Block and pay homage to the tax man. And with Alec Baldwin and Steve Martin handling the festivities, the evening could be a delight or a disaster. Let’s just hope they fare better than Gervas at the Globes and Colbert at the Grammys. They really should have an eject button installed and Billy Crystal warming up in the bull pen.

I can’t comment on all the films, but Up in the Air – which captured the cultural zeitgeist–might pull out a wild card win. Read more in my News Junkie Post review.

Living in Limbo: Clooney Soars Up in ‘Air’ | NEWS JUNKIE POST

Drive safe. Play nice. Pass the popcorn.

aba

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OMG: I just realized Mario Cantone is my mother! Okay, wait, that’s impossible. But I just saw the comic’s acerbic Grammy review on The View Monday, and it was like reliving Sunday’s broadcast with my mom’s commentary running as the colorful play-by-play. Both Mom and Mario had some choice observations about Lady Gaga’s get-ups. Mario: “she thought she’d relax in an outfit that makes her look like the Winter Warlock.” Mom: “What’s all that schmutz on her face about?” Mom didn’t get Elton’s mambo mutant Ninja earring either. Or those decorative arms– discards from the “fame factory”– that adorned the piano. “What is this early Halloween?” would be the popular refrain of the evening.

Pink’s damp costume and ( actually amazing) Cirque de Soleil tricks, Beyonce’s Tina Turner moves and the Black Eyed Peas garnered quips from both pundits. Mario’s commentary about the Peas was a tad more R-rated (especially for morning TV) than Mom’s. He thought the back-up dancers looked like a particular part of the female anatomy with which he may not be all that familiar. Mom just said they looked like “aliens.” No wait, she edited herself, “they’re robots.” No, “They’re alien robots from another planet.” Thanks for clearing that up, Mom

And the lyrics to most of the songs eluded both Mario and Mom. At one point during the Eminem, Rap act, I think, they were bleeped. No need, as Mario and Mom pointed out, you can’t understand them anyway. Mario said he was dialing his cable company for a refund. “I’m not paying for those three hours. I want a credit.” Mom didn’t make the claim, but I bet she was thinking it.”The whole thing is giving me a headache already, ” Mom lamented as we pushed through the show’s interminable first hour.

She dozed off before the lackluster Michael Jackson 3D tribute, which unless you were–as Mario pointed out–one of the nine people with the special glasses–only looked blurry. And a tad boring.

There were highlights: among them The Zac Brown Band playing with Leon Russell( Mom: “Santa Claus missed the last Sleigh home. Mario: They gave Father Time a life time achievement award); Maxwell singing with Roberta Flack and Taylor Swift singing with her childhood icon; Stevie Nicks, who as both Mario and I(uh, oh, I’m morphing into Mom, too) pointed out has been sporting the same do and the same flowy black dress from the wiccan catalogue since the ’70’s.

Beyonce won six Grammys–the most by any female artist on a single show–including song of the year. But record honors went to the deserving Kings of Leon, and the album of the year was Taylor Swift’s Fearless. The Zac Brown Band got best new artist honors. And one of Westchester’s former favorite sons,Louden Wainwright III won his first Grammy for best traditional folk album. Gaga didn’t score any of the top prizes, but the Madonna of the new generation didn’t go home empty-handed. Along with her costumes she got to schlep Grammys for both electronic/dance song and album of the year. Congrats to all.

Oh, and Quentin Tarantino: Mario’s Aunt wants her blouse back. Wait, I’m pretty sure that’s the same blouse my Aunt Frieda wore to my cousin’s baby shower in 1978. Maybe we are related.

And Lady Gaga’s alien- from-the- green-lagoon costume will give Mom nightmares for weeks. Be on the look-out for our new show, “Watching TV with Mom” It will be a huge hit. On No Tube.

Oh, and all that ringing in your ears, Mom? No extra charge.

Drive safe. Play nice. Think peace.

aba

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