Prince Harry (naked!)

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Last week, Prince Harry displayed the royal weiner to some bachelorette-party girls in Las Vegas while playing billiards.

 

 

What fun!

 

 

I love the British royals. British history is a lot more fun than American history, because you can attach it to personalities: noble William the Conqueror, imperial Henry II, military Edward I, too-many-kids Edward III, etc., etc. It’s history that you can map as a family tree.

 

 

But let’s face it, it’s all about sex: who married who, who had whose bastards, who was gay, etc., etc. I mean, I know the name of Henry II’s mistress! And Edward II’s (two) boyfriends! And a couple of Henry VIII’s mistresses! So who are we kidding here?

 

 

Prince Harry is not my type. He is gingery and skinny, and he inherited most of the worst qualities from both his parents: Diana’s fairness and Charles’s clunky features. Seeing him naked does not charge up my batteries, or blow up my skirt.

 

 

Also, he will probably never be more than a prince. Wills and Kate are almost certainly destined to be K. and Q., and Kate will almost certainly produce a few kiddoes.

 

 

But I give Prince Harry credit for showing the meat-and-two-vegetables. He’s following in the footsteps of a long and noble line of ancestors.

 

 

Bully for Prince Harry!

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Brushes with celebrity

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We’ve all had brushes with celebrities. Working at a large East Coast university has brought lots of them my way.  Some years ago I was in a bookstore in downtown Providence at lunchtime, and I was trying to look at something on a lower shelf, and a tall lanky balding older guy was trying to look at the same shelf, and we got in each other’s way. And we glared at each other.  And – oh Jesus – it was Peter Boyle.

 

 

Partner and I like strolling in Manhattan, and one day we had a twofer: an Edie Falco sighting in a pastry shop (everybody in the place was on his/her cell phone, reporting that Edie was only two tables away!), and a Brad Garrett sighting on Broadway (he was eighteen inches taller than everyone else, and he was fairly radiating don’t-even-think-about-approaching-me!).  Also Daniel Davis, Niles from “The Nanny,” who’d been in the production of “La Cage aux Folles” we’d just seen, smiling in the rain, signing autographs.  Also the guy who played the mayor on “Gilmore Girls,” in line for “Spamalot,” bitchy and gossipy.

 

 

A friend here in Rhode Island is acquainted with a major local politician; she babysits her dogs, for god’s sake.  They were in a burger joint together, and the girl behind the counter squinted at Major Politician oddly. “I’ve seen you on TV,” she said. “Or in the newspaper. Right?”

 

 

Major Politician smiled. “Probably you have,” she said. “I’m Major Politician.”

 

 

The girl thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know who that is.”

 

 

Ah well.

 

 

But sometimes there is a perfect celebrity moment:

 

 

One of my acquaintances is lucky enough to be acquainted with the immortal Candice Bergen.  They were in a local Starbucks, and the barista said: “You look just like Murphy Brown.”

 

 

And Candice Bergen said, without batting an eye: “You know, a lot of people tell me that.”

 

 

Perfect.

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Mel Gibson in "The Beaver"

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At the movies recently, Partner and I saw the preview for “The Beaver.” What, you haven't heard of it? It's the Mel Gibson movie that was shelved for a couple of years because Mel was too notorious to handle. Everyone in Hollywood referred to it as “that movie where Mel Gibson has a beaver-shaped hand puppet.”

 

 

The studio test-marketed it, very cautiously, a few months ago, and it got very high marks from its audiences. So now they're releasing it.

 

 

I think the timing has a great deal to do with the whole Charlie Sheen thing. The PR masters are doing some very deep thinking about whether or not bad behavior is actually good for a career. Charlie may be off the air, but he's doing a lucrative “comedy” tour, in which he just paces back and forth on stage and rants, while the audience cheers. And Lindsey Lohan just gets worse and worse, but somehow we don't tire of her. I confess that I thought she was pretty good in “Machete,” and knowing about her personal life actually made her performance in that movie funnier and more pointed.

 

 

So what do we know of Mel? Anti-Semite. Drinker. Abusive. Creepily pious (he almost fooled the Church hierarchy into making him their Hollywood ambassador, back in the “Passion of the Christ” days).

 

 

But he's obviously imaginative. And talented. And often funny. And he has flashes of good ideas. (“Apocalypto” was a brilliant concept, though only a half-baked movie.)

 

 

Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan may or may not be talented; the jury's still out. But - and I hate to admit it - I think Mel Gibson is actually a gifted actor and director.

 

 

And Jodie Foster likes him, and I like Jodie Foster.

 

 

Now I have to ask myself: will I plunk down $7.50, some of which will go into Mel's loathsome pocket, to see “The Beaver”?

 

 

Sigh. Probably.

 

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Gordon Ramsay, the little friend of all the world

 

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Partner has been saying for years: “It's only a matter of time before somebody on one of the reality shows either commits murder or commits suicide.”

 

Sadly, he appears to be right.

 

Gordon Ramsay, the pugnacious Scottish chef with the bloody-hell attitude, has built his television career on yelling outrageous insults directly into people's faces. He does appear to know how to cook; I've never eaten at a Ramsay restaurant, but I've watched him in the kitchen often enough to know his style – simple but good. His Shepherd's Pie looks very nice.

 

As a human being, however, he is a stain on the planet.

 

Get this: one of the poor contestants on "Hell's Kitchen" a few years ago killed herself. In 2007. Less than a year after her appearance on the show.

 

And now this: Joseph Cemiglia, proprietor of an Italian restaurant in New Jersey, who was featured on Ramsay's “Kitchen Nightmares” a few years, jumped off a bridge in late September.

 

Here are some possible theories:

 

• There's no connection. It's pure coincidence.

 

Or:

 

• Ramsay is Satan. He gets in your head and gnaws at your brain until you can't live with yourself.

 

Or:

 

• Ramsay preys on the weak and vulnerable, because they make good television. They writhe very prettily on camera. He's a natural bully, so it makes for a good wrangle. In the process, of course, he makes them even more insecure than they already are.

 

Let's go with Theory #3 for a moment. Pretend you're running a restaurant, and you're not doing well. You're feeling bad about the future. Then someone from TV approaches you about appearing on Ramsay's show, and you don't know if it's the right thing to do. Then someone says, Why not? It's free publicity, one way or the other. Most of the restaurants this guy has featured on his show are doing okay.

 

And then Gordon shows up, and (don't click on this clip if you're not prepared to hear some atrocious language) he is incredibly abusive. On camera, no less. Lots of good footage of him screaming in your face.

 

You put up with it. The show airs, and your restaurant is stabilized, for a little while. People saw it on TV, there's a curiosity factor.

 

Now reality – not TV reality, but real reality – sets in. You really don't feel good about this; what little self-esteem you had left pretty much evaporated after Gordon left your restaurant. Also, millions of people have seen you eviscerated on national TV.

 

The business slumps again.

 

Debts accumulate.

 

What's left?

 

. . .

 

Back in 2007, Partner and I spent a week in Ireland. Days we spent touring; evenings we spent marveling at Irish TV shows. We especially liked the British version of “Hell's Kitchen,” led by a chef who'd been Ramsay's restaurant partner for a while, announced by a guy who made sly fun of the whole proceeding, and crewed by a bunch of celebrity kitchen assistants we'd never heard of. It was actually fun to watch. The winner was a former Irish boxing champion, Barry McGuigan, who had no idea how to cook, but who could mash potatoes by hand like nobody's business, and who was incredibly earnest about the whole thing.

 

So far as I know, not a single contestant on that show has committed suicide to date.

 

Now that's good television.

 

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