Snap!

Britney went shopping last week, bless her. (worldofbritney.com)

Short One

January 15, 1947, Elizabeth Short's naked body was discovered on a vacant lot near Leimert Park in downtown Los Angeles, by a mother with a young child, her body surgically bisected, horribly mutilated, and posed. Her body was severed in half at the waist. Both halves were drained of blood and washed. 22 year-old Elizabeth Short came from Massachusetts to Hollywood to be a star. Her hair and clothes were always black, she wore a dahlia in her hair, so she was known as "The Black Dahlia" She was last seen as she stepped from an auto in front of LA's Biltmore Hotel. (Karisable.com)

The Biltmore may have been where Short was last seen, but she was always at Boardner's, the WOW hangout on Cherokee Avenue at Hollywood Boulevard. Short lived up the street in a women's boarding house. In an old interview with Steven Mikulan, Steve Boardner remembered Short as someone who often showed up at his place with a couple of sailors in tow and drank whatever was cheap. "She'd come over here from Bradley's Five & Ten," he said, "which sold short beers for a nickel, longs for a dime – and shots of bourbon for 15 cents." Boardner's co-owner, Tricia La Belle told Mikulan in the LA Weekly that the bar features two Black Dahlia martinis: an "old-timers" for the day crowd, and a "nighttime" for the later crowd.

The first version, a decades-old favorite that goes for $10 a pop, is a shot of Blavod vodka (the black-hued liquor that goes into many another Black Dahlia), triple sec and Chambord — and garnished with cherries on a skewer that, in its own Grand Guignol way, makes more sense than an orange peel. . . . Boardner’s night clientele is generally much younger than the day shift of drinkers, and for them bartender Kelly McCann concocted a $12 Dahlia with Stoli vanilla vodka, Chambord and Kahlua. It’s been around for about half a dozen years, roughly the time when Elizabeth Short’s brief life began appearing on hipsters’ radars.

Eat Me

St. Blasien Jesuit College, in Bonn, Germany, wrote to the Haribo company complaining about their Moaom fruit chews "We are shocked at the shameless presentation of sexual practices on the wrapping, which includes not only sexual intercourse but also fellatio and cunnilingus," the letter said. The palindromic candy does in fact show fruits in deliciously lascivious poses. The company admits the new packaging is "very racy" and that the new wrapping is "certainly fruitier than the old," but claims to have had no other complaints. (Ananova.com)

The Basement Tapes

Back in 1993, a suprisingly adorable LaToya Jackson was a guest on RuPaul's Christmas show on Channel 4 in the UK. RuPaul's Christmas Ball was like an off-color Laugh-In, with skits, cameos, and commercial spoofs. LaToya pretended to be Ru's little sister, RuPauline, and did a reasonable impression of Ru's "you better work" shtick. Eleven years later, both would have hits on Billboard's dance chart – Ru with "Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous," LaToya with "Just Wanna Dance." (Watch the clip)

Anti-Bush League

Protesting Bush and the Bush administration outside the Republican National Convention brings out the creative best in people. Check out Sign Language. (t/y Ben)

British Intelligence: The X Factor

Hurrah - the bitching and slagging war of words for Simon Cowell's new ITV show X Factor has begun. According to The Sun, judges Sharon Osbourne and Cowell are said to be raring to go head to head as judges for this reworked Pop Idol’ish talent show. This may have something to do with the fact that Cowell's gone on record previously, calling Kelly Osbourne “ugly”. Starting this Saturday, audiences will be glued to their TVs watching contestant wannabes being divided into three groups – each to be managed by one of the judges. The third judge in the roundup is Louis Walsh, UK boyband guru – that should say it all.

British Intelligence: More Baby Spice

England and Real Madrid football star David Beckham has rightfully earned his nickname of “Golden Balls” as his popstar wife, Posh Spice Victoria, is yet again set to lay another egg. The couple already have two sons, Brooklyn, five, and Romeo, who is two next month, but have confirmed that their new baby is due March of next year. As suggested by the Mirror, this may be the couple's way of getting over the alleged affair that the England football captain had with his previous assistant, Rebecca Loos.

Sitings

• A technician records Enrique Iglesias' tone-deaf caterwauling from his mike as he lipsynchs to a playback of "Rhythm Divine." Believe it. . . or not.
• It's the helicopter fuck, and it's not safe for work or home. In fact, don't even click on it. And don't scroll down, past all the pigeon English, to the video.
• The pool at a New York hotel during the Republican National Convention?

Recently Dead

It was in 1982 that Laura Branigan's song "Gloria" began a 36-week stay at the top of the charts. The four-time Grammy nominee died on Thursday of a brain aneurysm, at 47. Her brother, Mark Branigan, said she'd complained of but taken no steps to remedy a headache for two weeks before her death. Branigan attended the Academy of Dramatic Arts in Manhattan, toured as a backup singer for Leonard Cohen in the 1970s, and signed with Atlantic Records in 1982, releasing seven albums for the label, including Solitaire and Self Control. She cowrote the song "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" with Michael Bolton. Her star never grew huge because, as the LA Times once noted, she had a "terrific voice" but a dearth of good material. One critic in 1985 suggested "she needs material weighty enough to support her exotic rock diva aspirations." Singing a duet with David Hasselhoff in 1994 for the soundtrack of Baywatch was not the kind of weight he had in mind. In 2002, she got rave reviews starring as Janis Joplin in the off-Broadway musical, Love, Janis. At the time of her death, Branigan was working on material for a new album. (Newsday.com)

The St. James Version

Pictured below are my actual notes for today's St. James Version. On the left are my notes after a weekend of doing crystal meth. On the right, after a weekend of Special K (or something like it).

Yes – I accidentally did Special K over the weekend (or something like it). I accidentally went down to Mexico and accidentally went to a farmacia veterinaria and bought 10 bottles of something called Anastat. (Anastat? Wasn’t she the one-armed trannie in the Easter show at Limelight?) The owner promised me it had the same chemical makeup as Ketaset (it didn’t). Then I accidentally drove four hours back home, and accidentally pre-heated the oven to 400 and baked it for 20 minutes. It was disgusting and I’m never doing it again. I was cranky and cross-eyed the entire weekend.

(Click pages to enlarge)

Snap!

From the Sunday New York Times Magazine spread on the private screening rooms of Hollywood's A-listers:

Who: Wilmer Valderrama, actor, ''That 70's Show.'' Where: Tarzana. Favorite movies: ''Desperado,'' ''Top Gun,'' ''The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.'' Dream guest: Antonio Banderas. Snacks: Chinese food, In-N-Out burgers, pizza. Coolest feature: Wilmer decorated it himself. Hard and fast rule: Clean up after yourself. Guests, from left: Heather Hattaway, Ania Altit, Ksenia Linkova.

Photo: Tierney Gearon

Tiltin' Hilton

In May, hotelier Richard Hilton filed to trademark his daughter Paris' name so she could use it on merch, because the Hiltons aren't really as rich as they could be. Now the Smoking Gun learns that Paris herself has had her law firm seek to trademark her name for the same reason – now with an accompanying logo of a tiara sporting a floridly cursive P. Jim Galasso, WOW's head of development, just strolled by the WOW Report desk, looked at her logo, and wondered if Paris realized it looks like a cartoon of someone leaning back with her legs spread apart. Now that's all we see.

Heads Up: Don't Drink and Drive

John Hutcherson, a 21-year-old Atlanta man, went to bed Saturday night drunk and covered in blood. He was awakened in the morning by Cobb County police charging him with DUI, vehicular homicide, and failure to stop at an accident with death or injury. Seems he and his 23-year-old friend since high school, Francis Brohm, were returning home from a bar when the Chevy pickup Hutcherson was driving hit a curb near a telephone pole. Passenger Brohm, who had his head out the window (puking?), was decapitated by the pole's support wire. Hutcherson apparently backed up and drove 12 miles to his home, oblivious to his friend's headless body hanging out the window. Just another good-time Saturday night. A neighbor out for a stroll with his young daughter the next morning discovered the grisly corpse in Hutcherson's driveway. The head was recovered later at the crash site. "It's hard for one to imagine that you would drive miles from a crash site to your home, turning in various directions, and yet not know what has happened to a passenger sitting next to you," police said. "Alcohol is believed to be a contributing factor." (Reuters, SFGate.com)

The Mansion Family

In her freshly minted exposé, Upstairs, Playboy model and professional poker player, Jill Ann Spaulding, breaks a long-held trust and reveals the unglamorous, unexpectedly seedy goings-on in Hugh Hefner's cluttered mansion bedroom after the celebrities have gone home. Hef claims he hasn't read the book, but some of his "girlfriends" have (can they read?), and he has denounced it as "silly." But silly doesn't quite cut it. Spaulding says that those interchangeable busty girlfriends you see Hef with are really nothing more than $2,000-a-week prosties who have sex with him, live with him, and pretend to be his squeezes in exchange for, um, spreads in the magazine. Unprotected sex happens on Wednesdays and Fridays and the girls' attendance is mandatory, Spaulding says in the book and also in a tasty interview with Chauncé Hayden in Steppin' Out magazine. Each girl mounts the 78-year-old's five-to-six-inch Viagra erection for two minutes while he watches gay male porn on two giant plasma screens. Beauty.

He doesn't really do anything. He just lies there with his Viagra erection. It's just a fake erection, and each girl gets on top of him for two minutes while the girls in the background try to keep him excited. They'll yell things like, "F-k her daddy, f-k her daddaddy!" There's a lot of cheerleader going on!

After the two minutes are up what happens?

The main girlfriend wipes off his penis. She's the girl who actually shares the bed with him. She sleeps there all night. She's around 22 years old. He uses all the same girls. She's been there for three years now.

Little Shop of Whores

Don't make your child a laughingstock by having him trick-or-treat for carob-covered soy beans and low-carb snacks (or prance in the gay parade) this Halloween in last year's Shrek or bin Laden costume. While the headless soldier will be a popular look, most kids will be asking WWDW? – What would Diddy wear? Pimping it old school is so in right now it's not even in yet, and whoring is not only the world's oldest profession but also the world's oldest dress-up idea that never gets old. Now, in plenty of time to order, the designers at Brands on Sale are showing a line of Child Pimp & Ho Costumes. Young we'll-call-him-Scott here is fashioning the Child Long Pimp Daddy Suit Costume, a chic panne jacket and pants ensemble, slashed from $57.95 to $42.96. Hat, Hummer, and arrest record sold separately.

Ne Plus Ultra?

Old Warhol superstar, Ultra Violet, is having a show of her artwork, says Maryland's Herald-Mail. The 70-year-old former Isabelle Collin Dufresne – from France – claims to have begun making art in her mother's womb. The exhibit of her more recent work is at the Washington County Museum of Fine Arts in Hagerstown, Maryland. Apparently, the Met, Modern, Whitney, Getty, and LACMA were all booked. The installation – which includes hundreds of feet of sky, as well as collages, found objects, and other works, such as a wedding gown with wings and a compact disc as a halo – is titled "Is Christ Politically. . . Prophetically. . . Correct?" "I'm a Christian," she said. "I'm not hiding it. I think Christ is important."

The woman is completely cuckoo, living off the fumes of Andy's Factory days. Probably not even knowing the term "superstar" was always ironic. The work is a-flurry with angels, which Violet said upsets people. "I shifted to the sky," she said. "It's more universal." The museum's director, Joseph Ruzicka, also a loony, sees "a sort of reconciliation, a certain calmness" in the work. "I personally find it soothing and poetic," he said. Soothing. Good one, Ruzicka. "Art should be something that is edifying," Violet said. But wait. "Art takes itself so seriously," she also said. Her work has a pithy sense of humor: She painted Mickey Mouse's head on Michelangelo's Creation of Adam. Ha ha!

Sitings

• In the mondo homo video Spunk'd, it's done systematically, alphabetically, as it should be, but most people just stick things up their butts willy-nilly. t/y Ed
• Caught drinking under the influence? Here's Har Mar Superstar's "DUI" video. t/y wurd up

Between the Covers

How to Make Love Like a Porn Star: A Cautionary Tale tells the story, in her own words, of the ascent of Jenna Jameson from teenage stripper in Las Vegas to the biggest name in the world of adult entertainment. Dan Ackman in the Wall Street Jounal wonders if it really is a cautionary tale. Perhaps caution lies in its length.

It includes stories of her sexual abuse, rape, drug addiction and numerous heartbreaks. But as the story is ultimately a "celebration of survival and victory on your own terms," it is not quite clear where the caution lies. The memoir is 579 pages (including pictures), despite the fact that the author is just 30 years old. That's about as long as the autobiography of 59-year-old Gen. Tommy Franks, which is also published by ReganBooks this month.

I Can't Come to the Phone Right Now

Alyson Hannigan once said on a talk show that if you die alone in your apartment, your starving dog will eat you, starting with your tongue. My dog's not a big eater so it would probably be two weeks before he even bothered to pry open my lips. A guy in Canada named Jim Sulkers lay dead in his condominium for two years before his mummified body was discovered two days ago. Not by his dog, but by relatives who thought they'd visit while in the city on other business, and called police when he didn't answer. "They knocked on his door and he didn't answer," said a cousin. "You assume he isn't home. You certainly don't assume he's dead." Apparently, no one was worried when they hadn't heard from 53-year-old Sulkers, who suffered from multiple sclerosis. His bills were being paid on time by his bank from pension funds automatically deposited into his account, and the mailman was dutifully delivering letters and returning them to the post office when the mailbox was full.

A newspaper dated November 21, 2002, was found on his dining table and a calendar on the wall opened to the same month led officials to believe that he had been there since. The windows were sealed and radiators had been left on throughout both winters and summers, creating a very hot and dry environment. (iol.co.za)

Marcel Baril, executive director of the Family Centre in Winnipeg, called the situation bizarre and sad. "It's odd that we live in a society where technology can take care of our affairs like that, even if we passed away two years ago, and nobody's noticed." (CBC News)

This Boy's Life

This guy, or rather this picture of this guy, this drama, started making the rounds because, initially, WOW casting director Doron Ofir met little Timmy S. in Texas while on a casting junket and gave him his business card (and we believe him that nothing else transpired). Faster than you can say Andy Warhol, Tim sent Doron an email loaded with head and torso shots and a plaintive plea for help becoming a model and actor. Cool, stoic Doron perfunctorily sent the stripped-to-the-waist shots and text to James, as is the custom here. James fell deeply in love, as is his custom, and emailed a reply to the boy, who promptly emailed more photos and "I want somebody to help me really bad" letter. WOW Report, swept up in the adventure of it all, almost posted a picture and something along the lines of "for only 87¢ a day," but came over all skeevy at the last minute. Not so photoTopia, the picture blog of WOW's Chris and Thairin, who posted it with its charmingly naive text. Once it left the confines of the office, it became fair game, and has now been picked up on, as well as some other sites, A Socialites Life. So if Tim doesn't become either a model or an actor, it wasn't meant to be.

I'm on EEE!

Well, we searched and searched the WOW Report archives, then searched again, and then put an intern on it, and still we found no evidence of foot fetish reporting. Yet Jonno, over at lovely-to-look-at Fleshbot, seems to think we're into it. "This is just twisted (and gay) enough to appeal to y'all," he said by way of explaining the link he sent us. By "y'all," perhaps he meant y'all.

(abusedshoes.com)

Ask a Black Girl

She'll Hook You Up

Dear Black Girl,
What's up with Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles? Chicken and biscuits I can see, but Chicken and Waffles?
– Confused white boy

Confused white boy,
one thing you need to know about black people, is that we love a good deal. where else could we go to get breakfast, lunch and dinner at one time? and it's the bomb too. you obviously ain't knowin'. get yourself down there and order a #9. tell them the black girl sent you. peace!

Dear Black Girl,
What do black people think of whites who act all black and shit?
– Phil

phil,
people know when you're being fake. if you talking like colin powell for most of the day and then suddenly start throwing black slang around like martin lawrence for the five minutes you spend with your black co-workers, odds are they know what's going on.  this is a pretty tough question, I could probably write for pages and pages if I wanted to, but the short answer is this: if you white and you really do love expensive rims, r&b and hip hop, and chappelle's show, fine. if you don't, that's fine too (although the chappelle show season one dvd is fuckin' funny, y'all). just don't pretend to like these things if they not really you.

Dear Black Girl,
I have a small Asian ass! What's the best way for me to get a badonkadonk? I think that having one would bring me more joy and success in life. I want one. Holla back.
– Alisa

Dear little asian girl,
a badonkadonk is a stupid, ghetto, donkey booty. the first step in getting a badonkadonk is to pray. secondly, you need to get your freak on and give it to your man froggy style in the bedroom. this works wonders for the ass (and legs). you also need to go on a soul food diet which i can guarantee will go straight to yo ass. go to roscoe's chicken and waffles with confused white boy for a couple weeks. having this new found junk in your trunk will definitely bring you more joy and success cause you will be off the chain and men will be throwing they wallets at you.

British Intelligence: Distracting

UK comic Jimmy Carr, known for his dry cutting humour, has just been signed to host his Channel 4 game show, Distraction in the US. Comedy Central, the same station that imported the likes of Graham Norton over the pond, will make 14 episodes of this late-night favourite. Carr said yesterday, "I can't believe my luck. Torturing Americans should not only be easy, but a pleasure."

British Intelligence: Trial Blazer

British school kids rejoice thanks to a Yorkshir- based company claiming to have produced the world's first waterproof school blazer. The company stated that the Ducksback blazer is "smart, waterproof and breathable." And at a cost of £38, it's a bargain.

More waterproof gear

British Intelligence: Trashing Modern Art

Modern Art is just a bunch of rubbish. This was proven last night when a cleaner at the prestigious Tate Britain museum in London threw out German artist Gustav Metzger's prized work. In all fairness to Mrs Mopp the cleaner, the piece was part of the Art and the Sixties exhibit and was literally a see-through plastic bag full of garbage.

More hot modern art

How Does That Make You Feel?

Todd Radnitz emails:

So I'm sitting at home last night with a glass of wine (or two) doing my online traffic school (for driving 81 in a 55 MPH zone), and I get this test question:

People who are rude usually:
a) Love their life
b) Have lots of children
c) Have low self-esteem

Recently Dead

Cuban-born actress Maria Antoineta Pons, who helped popularize the tropical-dancer genre of movies called rumbera in the 1940s and '50s, died in a Mexico City hospital last Friday, reports the LA Times. She was 82. Pons starred in almost 60 Spanish-language films, from 1942 to 1965, including Noche de Ronda and Mujer de Puerto. Rumbera movies, as you might imagine, were heartbreaking stories about sultry, fallen women, filled with wild, extravagantly costumed dance numbers set in nightclubs. Hot. We need more of those today. Pons, who was one of only a handful of actresses who were famous as Tropical Queens, also performed in stage shows, including productions at the Million Dollar Theater in downtown Los Angeles.

Snap!

Kevin Federline drives the future missus out of harm's way in her brand-new $85,000 Mercedes Benz G500 SUV. Let's hope it's all-terrain, 'cause they've got some rough road ahead. (worldofbritney.com)

Ru and Ruiz

RuPaul's first album in seven years, the hot hot RuPaul Red Hot, drops on September 23. Appropriately, red hot fashion photographer, Mike Ruiz, is shooting the video for "Looking Good, Feeling Gorgeous," Ru's first single off the CD and next week's number-one club breakout hit on Billboard's dance chart. The video's plastic surgery theme is high satire and we can only reveal that Ru goes from feeling good to looking gorgeous. Ruiz, you might remember, was a judge on the Fox reality show, The Swan, the most extreme makeover experience, like, ever. Meanwhile, Ru gets cross, er, examined in the current issue of Newsweek.

Why did you call your album "RuPaul Red Hot"?
Well, many years ago—I'm not gonna say how many—I became famous in Atlanta from doing self-promotion. One campaign I came up with was "RuPaul Is Red Hot." People would drive by my apartment and scream, "RuPaul is red hot!" [Laughs] So I figured, since I'm starting over, I'd start from the beginning. Plus, it sort of signifies the Phoenix rising from the ashes, from the flames.

LA Lore

LA-born-and-raised WOW producer, Alicia Gargaro, was all wistful, misty, and nostalgic the other morning, all weepy around the WOW Report desk over the loss of something called the Carpeteria Man, a statue that remains a haunting image from her youth. Today, she sent us this letter:

I'm not crazy. There really was a Carpeteria Man atop the Carpeteria showroom on the east side of Vine Street, just north of Santa Monica Boulevard. He was a genie who wore billowy trousers and a red vest over his shirtless manly chest and watched over his carpet collection with a sword. Actually, he may have had his arms crossed over his chest. But it was a big chest nonetheless.

Ed Magana, WOW post supervisor and fellow native Angeleno, remembers him. Sometimes, if I feel lost in Los Angeles because all of my favorite landmarks are gone, I just go to Ed and he remembers them with me. Or for me. And we have a memento moment. The Luau on Rodeo Drive, Ah Fongs on Beverly Drive. The Fish Shanty on San Vincente. And of course Beverly Park, or “Kiddie Park,” which graced the land that now boasts the Beverly Center. I remember the day they put up the CLOSED sign. The pony rides across the way were forsaken for Cedars-Sinai Medical Center and parking lot.

There is much of Los Angeles besides the Brown Derby that has gone missing. Where have all the Carpeteria Men gone? The trains going down Santa Monica Boulevard. Angels Flight, both the funicular railroad and the restaurant. Jack LaLanne’s European Health Spa on Wilshire. C.C. Brown's ice cream shop right here on Hollywood Boulevard. I saw films at the Pacific Theatre and Porky's when it played at the old Egyptian on Good Friday. My mother dropped us off. We were simple Los Angeles kids back then. We had places to go and people to see, like the Bell Lady who can be seen in a Death Wish DVD. Our characters are disappearing. Who do you remember? Think of them today as you read this. Please help save your local character. Thank you.

(Looking for your local character? Try here.)

Phone Call from a Felon

The fourth in our Thursday reading series of recorded phone calls between James St. James and superstar prisoner #97A-6595, Michael Alig (otherwise known as the Drano killer). In this installment: Michael reads from his fan mail and compares himself to Jesus.

TUESDAY AFTERNOON

Michael Alig: James, listen, I got this funny, uh, I brought some of my fan mail out, because some of it is so funny.

James St. James: Oh please, yes, read.

Michael: There's this girl named Meg who lives in, oh gosh, Wyoming, and she says, “Last week we went out dressed up in black fishnets, black knee highs and our hair all funky with feathers in it. I also put some black eyeliner on with wings coming from the corner of my eyes and going down my cheeks. My mom wouldn’t let me out of the house. But I told her ‘Michael Alig does it and it’s Party Monster theme tonight at Jessica’s!’”

James: That’s hot.

Michael: So they’re having a Party Monster sleepover party!

James: So cute!

Michael: Anyway – one of the girls had a shaved head, you know, done up like Jennitalia, and they painted murals and came with their throat slashed and blood dripping all over the place and one of them looked like Junkie Johnathon.

James: How old are these kids?

Michael: Teenagers, I guess.

James: If I would have told you twenty years ago that there would be a trickle down to CLUB KID SLUMBER PARTIES in WYOMING. . . .

Michael: Oh I know I know I know. . . Now, James you can’t put anything derogatory about any of these people that write me, because honestly, honestly, James, these letters are what keeps me motivated.

James: I understand that.


Michael: It’s just a tiny portion of them are crackpots. Most of them are really nice people.

James: Well, read me one from a crackpot, and then we’ll say something funny about him. I mean nice about him.

Michael: This is one from someone who says he’s a former clubkid. He sent me a picture. He says “I always thought back then that you were a special person, and there is no one that can ever convince me that you killed Angel. You shouldn’t even be in prison in the first place.” Isn’t that sweet?

James: “Signed, Keoki.”

Michael: James!

James: What?! What?!

Michael: That was mean.

James: Sorry. Oh, now I’M the mean one?

Michael: I got a letter today from a boy named Bryan, who. . . . You know, I’m really surprised at how these young kids TOTALLY GET what we were doing. He says, “Congratulations on attempting to reinforce self-worth through demolishing conventional styles and attitude teaching a generation of clubkids to transform their self conceptions of love and life by participating in autonomist non-conforming rage.”

James: (Whistles) Wow!

Michael: Good one, huh?

James: Yeah. . . . That’s exactly what you were trying to do, Michael. In your K-hole. It’s funny how he got that.

Michael: I was just writing chapter seven of my book, the first chapter where we. . . .

James: (Groans) You're still doing that? Michael, nobody cares. It’s been done. By me.

Michael: ANYWAY, JAMES, it’s the chapter where the clubkids start, and I was like. . . . Hmmm. That sounds really good. I think I’ll use that! I can pass that off as my own thought!

James: Read me another one. Hey, wait a minute, do you give people my email address?

Michael: Sometimes. . . . Only if I think they should have it.

James: Because I do get a lot of very strange emails that I can’t quite figure out how they got my address.

Michael: Yep, that’s usually me.

James: Great. Gee. Thanks. Speaking of strange. . . . Did you ever get the girl who. . . .

Michael: Are you talking about the Bible thing?

James: YES! OMG! LOVE HER!

Michael: I never got it!

James: I’ll include that in your next package. Oh, Michael, she rewrote the New Testament with you as Jesus, and me as Jesus’ brother, and she wrote it all in King James English.

Michael: She told me about it!

James: It’s really something. You are Jesus. The club kids are the disciples. Area is the Temple. Dianne Brill is God.

Michael: She sent me five pages explaining, and actually the way she described it, the way she described Jesus, I thought, well, HE WAS exactly like me! (Laughs) No really, the way she described me was like. . . . The way she described it was: king of the misfits, and prostitutes, and cripples. I loved it. I AM JESUS!

James: It’s so fantastic.

Michael: James, do you remember the time we took Anthony Haden-Guest to Bowery Bar. . . .

James: . . . and put him in a K-hole! That was so much fun! And he kept saying. . . .

Michael: “Michael Alig is Jesus! Michael Alig is Jesus!” And he kept drawing crucifixes on the tablecloth. . . And you were getting so mad, you kept saying, “ONE MORE TIME!" And by the end of the night, he’s taking his shirt off and dribbling and drooling, and the managers and waiters kept saying, “What have you done to Anthony?” I keep thinking how funny that was.

James: Oh God, I miss those K-holes.

Michael: Then there’s this girl, her name is, oh, I’m not giving you her name. She says – I love this – she’s like, "I want to send you tons of letters, a letter every two days or more. I don’t expect a response, though, from every letter; I just want the time to go by faster for you. If you don’t want me to write so much then tell me and you won’t hurt my feelings, unless you don’t like me, then I’ll cry.” She says, “For whatever reason, I’m really drawn to you. I need you to help me discover the reason I feel the way I do. You are amusing to me.”

James: (Laughs) "You amuse me, little man."

Michael: (Laughing) ". . .In your cage."

James: “Dance in your cage, little man!”

Michael: I think she meant to say "amazing!" But I like "amusing."

There’s this girl, and there’s a picture of her and her drunk boyfriend in a hotel room in Vegas. And all it says is, “Dear Michael: I love having sex. Girls or boys, I don’t care. I thought I’d let you know that little tidbit about me. I love SEX. SEX. I bet that’s one thing we have in common you and I. SEX. SEX. I’m going to Vegas for my birthday August 20th and I’m turning 26 and I can’t wait because I plan to have lots of SEX. I’ll drink some champagne for you."

There’s this girl named Crystal, she’s 12 years old. I just found out she’s 12 years old a couple of days ago because I got a letter from her mother and her mother is really cool. You know, it’s funny because now we’re at the point where the mothers are our fans. You know, it’s no longer the kids. The mother is like 32, and she was around for Disco 2000. Now she’s living, like, in Ohio, and she has a 12-year-old daughter who is like a fan of mine and she wants to marry me and she’s sending me marriage proposals and dressing up in her 12-year-old clubkid guise.

So this girl, she’s 12 years old and she wrote the sweetest sweetest – James, it breaks my heart when I read some of these letters – she wrote the sweetest report on me for her 7th-grade class.

James: That is so crazy.

Michael: She said, "When I take your letters in to show and tell. . . ," and I’m thinking, WHAT IS THIS TEACHER THINKING? She’s bringing in this, like, killer’s letters from prison! This report she did, though, was really heartbreaking.

Recorded voice: YOU HAVE SIXTY SECONDS.

James: Quickly, quickly! For example. . .?

Michael: Well, she says that her and her mother are kind of like the town weirdos, and everybody stares at them when they go to the grocery store or whatever, because her mom is from New York, you know, and she likes to dress like Britney Spears, or whatever, this is how much it’s trickled down. She says that after seeing Party Monster, she feels like she’s not alone in the world and that. . . . You know, it’s the same story from everyone. It’s always different and it's always the same. It’s just heartbreaking the way she feels like she has a home with these clubkids, even though she’s only 12 and she lives in Iowa.

(Phone disconnects)

British Intelligence: He's Got Balls

Sir Mark Thatcher, son of ex-Prime Minister Maggie, was arrested yesterday in connection with a coup plot against the government of oil-rich Equatorial Guinea. According to The Sun, he could face up to 20 years in prison, or even worst, be handed over to a cannibal dictator said to eat his opponents' testicles.

For yummy testicle recipes

British Intelligence: Ministry of Porn

Government Department of Work and Pensions seems to have had a lot of time in their hands lately... or perhaps something else. An investigation of the department revealed last night that over two million porn sites were visited by the dept staff alone, just within the past eight months. For more government porn

Sitings

• Start with this grape, then see what happens to other things in the microwave. Scientific. t/y Tasha
• Don't let PETA catch you playing Chicken Pong. t/y Moye
• Domonic Paris, WOW editor and fierce fine artist!

Golden Grrrl

Bea Arthur got caught by security at Boston's Logan International Airport this week with a pocket knife in her handbag, says breakingnews.iol.ie. The actress, a feisty 81, began to scream that it wasn't hers, that it was put in her bag by terrorists. "She kept yelling about the 'terrorists, the terrorists, the terrorists'," said a fellow passenger on Cape Air. Security confiscated the knife, of course, then Arthur threw a keyring at the guards because it, too, belonged to the terrorists. Boarding the plane, she announced, "We're all doomed." An airline spokesman said, "Ms Arthur was cracking jokes and was a real character." Oh. Apparently, you had to be there to understand Arthur was kidding, not mentally ill.

She Wakes Up Screamin'

It's hard for us at the WOW Report to believe, but Screamin' Rachael Cain, a short, loud, abrasive blonde from the early days of the New York downtown scene who was responsible for this or started that, is now president of Trax Records, in Chicago. She surfaces today only every so often as a talking head when scandal attacks, but back in the day she was everywhere all the time. Back then, photographer Patrick McMullan and I used to have a social code we'd employ if we found ourselves trapped in a conversation with a nightmare and wanted to warn the other to avoid the person. We'd say, "I'd like you to meet So-and-so, she's a dream." Nobody got hurt. Screamin' Rachael was such a dream.

However, this interview she just gave to the Windy City Media Group is surprisingly interesting. She brings the old days alive, with her remembrances of influencing such early NY scene creators as Afrika Bambaataa, Frankie Knuckles, Sylvia Robinson, Rock Steady Crew, and Jellybean Benitez. Oh, and of course, Michael Alig – who had never heard of house music?

SR: I used to do these parties at a club named Tatou in New York City. A guy introduced me to a guy named Prince Teddy who became my business partner. However, he was brutally murdered—and I was on TV shows like A Current Affair and in tabloid magazines like The Globe. However, Michael thought that the whole thing was fabulous! I told him that it was not fabulous. That was the first time I noticed that he was off the bean.

I first met Michael and his friend James St. James because of an article in New York magazine about club kids. I read it and decided to meet the club kids, then and there. I went to either Danceteria or Tunnel and talked my way in. I met Michael and told him about house music; he had me meet DJ Keoki. They thought the music was cool and I became part of that club kid scene.

Man! I Feel Like a Felon

Canadian country diva Shania Twain's 30-year-old half-brother, Darryl Christopher Twain, was arrested on drug-trafficking charges when Edmonton police discovered a "significant" amount of crack hidden in the car he was in, reports the Edmonton Sun. The Pontiac Grand Am was stopped because it fit the description of a car that may have been involved in a shooting last July. Inside, cops found 170 spitball-sized rocks of crack cocaine valued at around $7,000, which they exclaimed was "a pretty good haul." Twain's brothers-in-law, Franklin Julian Logan, 33, and Jason Bernard Logan, 30, also face charges of trafficking.

True to form, Shania's Toronto-based publicist was as shocked as can be to hear the news. "It's news to me," he said when contacted. Perhaps he'll break the news to Shania, who lives in Switzerland and is, by the way, the best-selling female artist of all time, according to the Sun article. So there, Diana, Barbra, and Cher.

Darryl Twain is the youngest of two half-brothers to Shania, who was born Eileen Regina Edwards in Windsor, Ont., on Aug. 28, 1965. Shania and two sisters were adopted by Jerry Twain, whom mom Sharon had married after parting with her first husband. The couple added two sons to the family: Mark and Darryl. When Jerry and Sharon were killed in a 1987 car crash, Shania took charge of the family. Darryl Twain was 13 years old at the time.

5ive Questions

RUPAUL

If you had two tickets to paradise, where would you go and who would you take?
I'd take my buddy, Jeff Key, to Puerto Rico. Jeff is a Marine from Alabama and he's just about the sexiest devil you'll ever have the pleasure of pleasuring.

What scares you?
Dumb people.

What can't you live without?
My iPod.

Other than people and pets, what would be the first thing you'd save if your house caught fire?
My Sheila & B. Devotion CD and my stuffed animal named Jimmy.

What's your favorite room in a house?
My house has a solarium that overlooks the San Fernando Valley. I have a stereo, a day bed, and my desktop computer out there, too. In my book, it has all the qualities I love in a great space.

Photo: Ellen Von Unwerth

Hairspray: A Respritz

Last night, James went to see the hit musical at the Pantages Theater for the second time since it opened, ostensibly because his mother had tickets. He says Bruce Vilanch was off his game, but his ad-libs had been updated. During his duet, "Timeless to Me," with husband Wilbur, for example, while being felt up from behind:

BRUCE: Governor Schwartzenegger, is that you? (Pause for laughs) Well, it ain't the governor of New Jersey. (Pause for howls) Who says Michael Phelps has the world's fastest breast stroke? (10-minute roar from audience)

Of Interest

What's that smell? Clean, bland, hilarious indie rocker Dave Matthews, his band, and his tour-bus driver have been accused by Illinois' Attorney General's office of unloading 100 gallons of raw human waste from the bus onto the Kinzie Street Bridge in Chicago. Last month, passengers passing under the bridge on a sightseeing boat got a busful of shit chucked on them. The act of loosing feces willy-nilly into the environment as the state claims Matthews did is a violation of both water pollution and public nuisance laws. (cbs2chicago)

Mandy Moore, who was cruelly outed in Details as a Bush-loving Republican – along with Adam Sandler, Freddie Prinze Jr., Jessica Simpson, and Shannen Doherty – wants it known that she is, in fact, not, nor has she ever been, a Republican and neither is she a supporter of Bush. And sweet little Janet Jackson, the littlest Jackson, is no fan of Bush either. She claims the president used her Super Bowl breast exposure as a foil to divert media attention away from the war in Iraq, and she's sorry she apologized. "You don't apologize for an accident," she told Genre magazine. Um, yes you do, Janet, if you're polite. You spill coffee in someone's lap, you say, "I'm sorry." Anyway, if it means one fewer vote for Bush, good. "Do I vote?" she said. "Yes, I do. Will I be voting for Bush? Hell, no!" (Page Six)

The Basement Tapes

Yesterday, James St. James exposed you to the naked dead flesh hanging in the California Science Center. On Sunday, HBO will air this season's penultimate episode of Six Feet Under, the sensational drama about the Fisher family of California morticians (well, at least one of them still is). And today, in this tape that we, um, dug up, we take you back to 1992 as cute correspondent Laurie Pike visits with mortuary-science students on the University of Minnesota campus for WOW's Made in the USA TV series. (Watch the clip)

Of Of Note

"Hey, I met that guy while he was writing that note. He called me a babe. I think he's really going somewhere," writes Moye Ishimoto from her desk on the 4th floor.

Of Note

James and I were walking up an eerily desolate Hollywood Boulevard this morning on our way to get coffee and pastry when we happened on this handsome vagabond smoking a blunt and imploring us to read a note he'd taped to the wall of a storefront. He looked like a homeless Henry Rollins. "We'll read it on our way back," I told him. On our way back, the man was gone, but this note was still there:

A Programme Note

We sense some disappointment in the ether – a bit, anyway – that there hasn't been a post or two from our London office today – or that there was, but it was removed. Yes, we're having, um, technical difficulties. The London boy is on hols and the replacement boy there is learning the ropes and this boy here ain't doin' their job for them. Ahem. I mean, we're sorting it out, as they say. Please stand by. News of Becks and various topless news readers and show presenters is on its way.

Me So Needy

Remember those Tamagotchi virtual pets of a few years ago, virtual nightmares that had to be fed, walked, and pampered or they died? Now, Hong Kong-based Artificial Life has come up with a virtual girlfriend that has all those same needs; feed, walk, and pamper her or she gives you the silent treatment and you only wish she'd die. It doesn't get any more virtual than that. BBC News reports that she's an animated female – not unlike the hot 'n' sultry Lara Croft – who appears on the video screens of cellphones and is soon to star in her own game on latest 3-G cells.

On top of a general subscription, men will be charged a fee to buy flowers and gifts for the virtual girlfriend. In return, she will introduce them to different aspects of her life, like letting them meet her female friends - also electronic images. If players neglect her, she will refuse to speak. . . . The company has plans to introduce a virtual boyfriend for women, although it remains to be seen how it will persuade them to spend extra money on the game.

Sitings

• Top 10 showbiz moms – no dads.
• 3 grilled cheese sandwich recipes from Chronicle Books.
• The earth at night. Awesome.
• Guess the virgin. Difficult.
• Maybe you'll do better guessing which person is gay. I did.

Crawford Offered

Is Cindy Crawford gay or what? Everyone thought she was when, back in 1991, she was photographed kissing Christy Turlington. But who wasn't photographed kissing Turlington in '91? Then, in '93, she played k.d. lang's hot barber on the cover of Vanity Fair . Rumors got so loud that the next year, she and then-husband Richard "Gerbil Ass" Gere took out a full-page newspaper ad to announce they both were hets.

Rumors still persist about the 38-year-old former supermodel, even though she's married to nightclub entrepreneur Rande Gerber (about whom there are rumors, of course) and a mother. Now, in openly bi porn queen Jenna Jameson's brand-new autobio, How to Make Love Like a Porn Star, she claims Crawford came on to her bigtime.

I kept getting a weird vibe from her. I knew what it meant, because I'd experienced it so many times before, but I kept dismissing it. It couldn't be true: She was Cindy Crawford, after all. Cindy reached over and rubbed the back of my neck. 'Ooh,' she cooed. 'Look at your beautiful tattoo!' She touched my neck so softly and sensually ... it was too much. She was so larger than life that I couldn't even imagine running my tongue along that trademark mole of hers. So I excused myself to get a drink.

Blind Items for the Slow

What hotel heiress seems to always hog the limelight, whether with a sex-tape scandal or breakup with a boyfriend, and is again in the news for exhibitionism? According to the Daily Star, she showed her assets to stunned shoppers at a Los Angeles boutique, where she preferred to take off her shirt in public, rather than stand in line for the dressing room. "It was hilarious," an onlooker was quoted as saying. "No one could believe it. She simply whipped off her tiny T-shirt, even though she wasn't wearing a bra, and just put the shirt on."

Oops. Who shocked a UK talk-show host when she told him about her oral habits? When he asked her what was the last thing she’d put in her mouth, she reportedly said it was a sex toy. “I thought her answer would be something like chicken escalope,” the host said. That particular revelation never aired, however; her handlers had it snipped.

What legendary blonde will be spending Rosh Hashanah in Israel? Rabbi Yehuda Berg told the paper that the star and her director hubby would spend the Jewish holiday at the Kabbalah Centre in Tel Aviv.

The St. James Version

James likes to give himself over to the weekends. On Saturday, he almost gave himself to an exhibit, literally.

PIECES, PIECES, PIECES OF ME

You really MUST go see Dr. Gunther von Hagen’s anatomical exhibit of REAL DEAD BODIES on display at the California Science Center. I went for the dead penises, of course, but I stayed for the plastinized cranial aortas (at right). TOO FASCINATING.

And it’s not as gruesome as you might think. I mean, it’s all just soup bones and beef jerky after a while. In the first room there were bits and pieces of people – a smokers lung here, a brain tumor there. Thinly sliced cutouts that look like my mother’s malachite cocktail coasters. And who knew that hernias were just big wads of bologna?

The second room had a dozen or so complete corpses lolling about in various poses. There’s a skinless corpse in a jaunty straw boater, playing chess, and smoking a cool and relaxing cigarette. There’s a jogging corpse with flapping slabs of meat at his side. A dead but still-dribbling basketball player. A skinless man riding a skinless horse. There’s a muscle queen holding up his old skin, who looked just like Doron Ofir from casting here at WOW (below). Swear to God. He had nerves like dried out twigs, very odd.

It’s the hair on some of them made me sad. Especially when they had little hairdos. You can’t help but think who are these people? How did they end up in this travelling sideshow? The pregnant woman, with the cut-out of her stomach, to show the unborn child – what happened there? How did she die? And what about the families of the corpses? Do they visit? Is it painful to see?

On the way out, I was given a donor card. That’s so hot. You really ought to do it. I can’t imagine my mother being very happy with my decision to traipse naked and skinless across continents. I gave all that up years ago. But you should. Everybody. Now. Go.

Bunny Talks

I don't care what anybody says, Vincent Gallo is a fantastically interesting artist. Come on, he directed himself getting a blowjob in his own film. How can you not love that? Then he blew up that blowjob on a billboard over Sunset Boulevard. A hummer over all those Hummers. Good times. Now he's given an interview to Lawrence Ferber in the gay mag HX that's a warm and honest recall of his hustler days in Manhattan. I knew him back when New York still had a sinister and exciting underground, and he's not fucking with you.

What was the most outlandish thing you saw in those clubs? I’ve seen people straddled up in some serious anal penetration, but that was just interesting. I was more shocked by GG’s Barnum Room, this club in the Times Square district that had a trapeze above. That club was everything. Old rich straight men with rich straight boys with trannys, disco queens, glam rockers, tourists - I’d never seen an eclectic group assembled in a such a bizarre environment, and I would say the greatest days of my life were there. That’s where I met Chi Chi Valenti, who became my first girlfriend in New York! Johnny Dynell, whom I knew from the hustling underground, was wearing that sort of sailor boy look, which is still my fave look of all time. I introduced him to Chi Chi! They’re heroes. Really big influences on me.

British Intelligence