rivercityvibe   “Puerile, smutty, schoolboy nonsense” – My Mom

This is an unusual year for me, when it comes to holiday gift shopping. The basics are all sorted – both of my brothers are getting gold-plated Sig-Sauers (and 2000 rounds of custom-made ammunition); mother and father are getting some thousand year-old  Cambodian jade; my personal assistant has already received a crate of absinthe, and my best buddy has a headhunter’s blowpipe and two shrunken heads en route to him by hand of messenger. You would think with those bases covered, I’d be all set, but those of you who have been paying attention know that I have an extra someone to buy for who can’t be fobbed off with a Victoria’s Secret gift certificate.

I am talking about the new Bones in da house.

As a three week old, one would think she’d be difficult to buy for. On the contrary. I have come up with c a couple of cracking gifts which I think she will love. One is serious and sort of commemorative, the other is fun. Both of which, she will have to grow into, but that goes for EVERYTHING in her life, so no biggie.

Gift # 1

This Vintage Cocktail Shaker is available from FM Allen and is the sort of gift she will love when she is 21 years old and just graduating Princeton. It is engraved with her full name, Josephine Cataclysm Bones, and is supremely functional as well as being easy on the eyes. I can also pass it off as a piece of christening silver, if I get any questions from relatives as to the suitability of such a gift for an infant. Suckers!

Gift # 2

The best toy ever?

This, for those introverts who are unaware, is Lego’s Death Star. It is massive, awesome (you get a Lego Darth Vader TIE fighter with it….!) and were my three week old daughter a seven year old boy, would be perfect. I am getting it anyway. For me. That’s how awesome it is.

You’ll be aware of the battle in California between the “gay community” and “the man”. It’s something to do with same-sex marriage and is, by turns depressing and hilarious. I saw this very funny placard on TV just a moment ago, and found it on flickr. It will make you laugh, too, I expect……

That's good material

Check out the sign bottom left – Chickens 1 Gays 0, referring to Prop 2 to do with animal cruelty (which passed) versus Prop 8 concerning same-sex marriage (which didn’t pass). Funny.

I have posts stacked up here like 737s over Hartsfield Airport, right now, including some advice on how to shop for infants and a much anticipated Something for the Weekend. Stay with us, and we’ll be right back after the break……

There has been a lot of discussion on the so-called internet concerning Pamela Anderson’s appearance, on a recent German (there it is again….) TV show. Particularly the appearance of her ass. I have to say, for the record, that these pictures make me love her 42 year old self even more:

She's still got it.....

Seriously, don't be a hater.....

I am fine with all this. Fun fact: Pamela’s middle name is Denise.

Okay, not fun, but a fact nevertheless.

I am sure many of you (especially those who spent time in fraternities and sororities [or, like me, both]) understand the comedy value of cruel humor. In my youth, my friends and I elevated this to an artform using a gambit known as ‘the harsh one’.

With ‘harsh ones” there are no rules. Everything is in play. To take an extreme example, one of my college buddies had a tragedy in the family. His Grandmother, to whom he was especially close, died unexpectedly. He was distraught, we rallied round, sent him on his way home. He took two weeks off for the funeral and to tend to family matters. Upon his return, he was greeted by his BEST FRIEND IN THE WORLD with the words “Hi, Dead-Gran! How’s it going?” The rules of the game allowed only a single response, “Ouch. Harsh One”.

(You have to be REALLY good friends to play the game at this level).

The following video, from College Humor shows a more sophisticated take on ‘the harsh one’. Enjoy the UTTER misery of the stand-up comic when he realizes nobody finds him funny……..

I love that the “industry people” line gets the biggest laugh….

I remember the movie The Bodyguard starring Whitney Houston (in her pre-crack and valium days) making it PRETTY darn clear that close-protection agents were expected to interpose their bodies between an assailant and the individual they were protecting. This was commonly interpreted to mean that bodyguards should be ready to “take a bullet” to protect their charges.

I think recent events in Baghdad have busted that myth RIGHT OPEN. The fatties on President Bush’s security detail weren’t even prepared to take a SHOE, full on, let alone a bullet.

I’ve done some math.

The muzzle velocity of a standard handgun using 9×19 Parabellum ammunition propels a bullet at between 1000 and 1300 feet per second. The average tired and angry Iraqi journalist propels his shoes at about 12 feet per second. He also has to reload by bending over and picking up the other one (provided of course that he has “made ready” by undoing his shoelaces…….). If the Secret Service can’t even react competently within this sort of time frame,  how will they handle a gunman?

Check out this UTTERLY PATHETIC response to the biggest personal security threat of the Bush Presidency:

See those guys coming in through the backdoor, wiping donut crumbs from their mouths? Elite close protection agents…….

Well the Jaguars won. How about that? I didn’t see that coming, I can tell you.

In celebration of this increasingly rare event, I am going to post about sport. The game we know and love is Football. Everyone plays it, well, everyone in the US (and Canadians with a note from mom excusing them rugby….). In the rest of the world they have something called “football” which we choose to call “soccer”. In South America it has been raised to an artform that has to be seen to be believed. That’s the reason for this post, actually. To show you this craziness:

Pretty neat, hey? Clearly illegal in Bolivia and, also, somehow gay, compared to Proper Football………….

50’s pin-up girl Bettie Page threw a seven, today, aged 85. She was smoking, there’s no doubt, so this isn’t a memorial post, it’s a celebration.

Giving Saint Peter palpitations at the gates of heaven......

Yesterday was so great. After returning from my day-trip to the Big Peach (lame), I sank into my favorite armchair with a large Glenfiddich and received an encrypted report from my agent at the Playboy castings. This satisfactorily completed, I switched on the TV. Someone had been monkeying with it, because it was not on the Military Channel. It was on a channel called Encore Love (suspect…..) and, as fortune would have it, one of the best films ever made was beginning.

I am talking about Weird Science.

Q: Why are we wearing bras on our heads? A: Ritual.

Those who are old enough will recall the movie being one of John Hughes’ 80’s masterpieces (can we say National Lampoon’s Vacation, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, The Breakfast Club, Planes, Trains & Automobiles ?). It’s about two dweebs who make and use a hot babe with an early home computer, a telephone modem and an old copy of National Geographic.

The babe in question is English temptress Kelly LeBrock ( I have just looked her up on the usual source and found out she is not English at all and I have been living a lie for twenty years). She later, amusingly, married Steven Seagal (Hollywood style – it didn’t last) and then became a celebrity fat person, like Kirsty Alley.

That the movie is so awesome owes little to LeBrock, but a lot to the young actors (where [and who] are they now?). The drunk scene in the jazz club  and the ritual which accompanies the ‘manufacture’ of the perfect woman is priceless comedy, as is the dispatch of the mutant warriors who crash the boys’ party.

Bizarrely, Encore Love only awarded it a single star in its review. Not credible. Who are these idiots?

We have many readers who were not born when this movie came out, so here’s one of my favorite scenes  to give you the general idea:

For those who have seen it, you’ll appreciate my consternation at the fact that my brothers have never stopped calling me Chet……..

The best thing ever has happened. The Playboy team are in Jacksonville looking to recruit lovely ladies for Hef’s use, in the magazine and in the mansion. They are hoping to find another Laura Croft (made-up name), Jacksonville’s famous playmate and this year’s Miss July.

Hef's the one at the front in red and purple.....

I had an asset at the castings, obviously (I was in Atlanta sorting out the weather, so was not able to attend in person). She reported that the standard was mixed, though skewed toward the hot. She said there were a lot of obvious strippers and some were HAGGARD.

The awesome Randy Lefko, took some brilliant pictures for the local rag, have a look at them and make your own minds up…….

You’ll remember a couple of weeks ago I introduced you to a young lady by the name of Biel. I saw potential in her, and accordingly awarded her the coveted rivercityvibe Something for the Weekend spot.

[Incidentally, a message for Beverly D’Angelo: PLEASE stop emailing me. You will never make Something for the Weekend. Even in your European Vacation heyday, you’d have struggled. Now you’re just too old. Leave me alone]

Anyway, Biel has been busy filming a movie called Powder Blue. From the name, it sounds CRAP. The kind of movie which tries to make you think. One with sex scenes that are vital to the plot and lots of weeping. Probably starring Sean Penn.

Despite this, the movie  has been eagerly anticipated by Bones and his cronies for one reason and one reason only: Biel plays a stripper. Woooooohoooo!

Here’s the trailer:

Hot dang diggety. Bring it awn!