Lindsay Lohan’s recreated Bert Stern’s famous “last shoot” with Marilyn Monroe. Brave girl. Hey, Lindsay, knock on wood.
Lindsay’s first photo shoot with Bert Stern:
Marilyn Monroe’s last shoot with Bert Stern:
Lindsay with a scarf:
Marilyn with a scarf:
I’m not saying I don’t like Bert’s new work. It just reminds me of all of the “I knew Jack Kennedy, and you’re no Jack Kennedy” who-ha of the first Clinton campaign (Bill, that is). Everyone is going to say Lindsay is no Marilyn Monroe. Yeah, for one she’s not drug addled with a reputation for being wild with the fellas. Wait a sec…
Marilyn really was striking:
Here’s the complimentary Lindsay’s pose:
This one’s not the best of the lot for Lindsay. Although it might just be a matter of sexy in 1962 vs. sexy in 2008. I don’t know. What I do know is that Bert Stern really does do excellent work. If he wanted to take my picture, I’d let him.
You can see and compare all of the Marilyn-Lindsay photos, including the racy ones, here.
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“People do not seem to realize that their opinion of the world is also a confession of character.” ~Ralph Waldo Emerson
I’ve been blogging since Sept 10, 2006 in anticipation of the publication of my first novel, The Hard Way. True to form, I missed my own anniversary. It’s a good thing I don’t get mad about that sort of stuff. So, I guess it’s time for a yearly round-up.
Well, I began, with the help of my pal Matt at One Kind Act, a little self consciously with a blogging mission where I joked that “I blog therefore I am (solipsistic).” Oh, how true.
We should feel a great sense of urgency because it is the most dangerous crisis we have ever faced, by far. But it also provides us with opportunities to do a lot of things we ought to be doing for other reasons anyway. And to solve this crisis we can develop a shared sense of moral purpose. ~Al Gore, on the environmental crisis and not LiLo’s problems
As many of you know, I’ve been writing about Lindsay Lohan since I started this blog. It was rough year for Lindsay. (Well, almost a year.) I’ll recap:
After she fell a few times, she was getting a reputation for being either a klutz or a drunk. While the jury was out, she showed up in an empty parking lot in the evening, I think she was taking a smoke break, just being a regular under-aged kid, and she was caught on video doing some high kicks. It was cute. Ah, those were the days.
My Lindsay Lohan without panties entry was the low point in my year with her. Sure, I posted links and links and links. But, in my defense, I waited to post them. At first I thought, ok, everyone has gone without panties for a reason or two. But when she kept doing it, well, I just couldn’t keep quiet.
I still defended her talent. I reminisced about her remakes of my favorite Disney movies. This was before I saw Herbie the Lovebug. Whoo-wee did that stink.
I was as appalled as anyone when the parade of willful stupidity graced the tabloids as Lindsay, Paris, and Britney traipsed around being ignorant and showing girls everywhere that if you’re scantily dressed and openly boorish, you can be on top of the LA social scene.
Things eventually fell apart for Lindsay. She went to some AA meetings (and continued to drink). I didn’t blame her because I knew that her mother called herself the white Oprah, and that made me pity Lindsay. Then Robert Altman died and Lindsay wrote his family a sympathy note from her Blackberry. But give her a break, I said. She’s a kid. And apparently the white Oprah only ever taught her to handwrite checks.
When people started making fun of her for her poor grammar, it made her so mad she asked Al Gore to help. And this is when I stopped giving LiLo the benefit of the doubt. Yes, Lindsay and I broke up. I guess she didn’t know that Al is my politician. Moreover, he’s saving the planet and is quite busy not worrying about teen celebrity angst. We should all be so lucky.
Then things completely unraveled. LiLo had her appendix removed (mimicking my sister Sarah). She made out with Samantha Ronson in Japan. She got a DUI. She went to rehab. She left rehab. She went back in. She got out and got busted again for DUI with cocaine. She claims she was wearing someone else’s pants. Nice. Let someone else take the blame. That’s some high moral fiber. (My sister, on the other hand, recovered quite nicely while she also raised a few kids and worked her do-gooder job. So, Lindsay can’t blame the appendix removal, although I suspect she’ll eventually get around to blaming everything and everyone else but herself.)
I feel partly responsible. I know I have dark powers and can ruin the lives of complete strangers. Magical thinking explains it. I try to use my powers for good. So, I’m sorry to Lindsay. I didn’t realize until now that her trouble started in full force when she messed with Al Gore. I guess that’ll teach her. Trying to derail his mission. Some nerve. See, I’m still mad.
So, now that it’s almost over, I’m consider a new celebrity blogging project. I think it’ll go better on this next attempt. I’ve gotten a few suggestions for possible replacements:
Danica McKellar (Gary)
Jason Lee, Bono, Jason Priestly (Jenn)
Jeffrey Tambor (Christy)
Maggie Gyllenhaal (KC)
Greg Grunberg (Dayv)
Anne Hathaway, Bif Naked, Rasputina (Michael)
Hello Kitty (Jim)
I’m thinking maybe Tina Fey or Cate Blanchett. Blanchett and her husband are running a theater company in Sydney, which sounds like fun. Or maybe Conan O’Brien? He’s cool. I could just stick with Richard Branson and kill two blogging topics with one stone. I’m not sure. We’ll see.
I’m actually hoping someone will suggest a celebrity and the name will jump out at me and say, “I’m the one.” What will probably happen is I’ll make a hasty decision at the last moment, which is how I make all of my semi-long-term commitments.
Now, I ask you, why? Doesn’t she have enough money to get a lackey to drive her wherever she wants to go? So she wants to drink and party it up. I don’t condemn her. But is it completely necessary for her to be driving everywhere?
Excuse me a second. I need to cut to the chase.
Lindsay, stay under the radar. How hard is that? And why live at Promises? Go home! Party like a normal celebrity. In private. Hire a driver. Hire four drivers. They can each take six hour shifts. Then when you’re good and ready, get help.
If you insist on continuing with this behavior, I can only guess you’re crying out for our help. Do you really want celebrity watchers and fans to hold your intervention? If so, then ok. I’m in.
I’m quite sick of your antics. When you drive drunk with cocaine in your pocket it makes me feel like you’re stupid. And it hurts me because I’ve picked you to blog about. So, your stupidity is mine. Please, stop.
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“I want to stand as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all the kinds of things you can’t see from the center.” ~Kurt Vonnegut
I was in the car and heard a Stevie Nicks or Fleetwood Mac song that I sort-of like, which is the way it goes with Stevie and her gang. Those songs are all kind-of the same.
I tried to find the song but since I didn’t know it, I couldn’t find it. So, I went on a wild YouTube listening hunt that included “Say You Will.” It was a big hit and was often performed with a kids choir doing the chorus. Aw, kids begging Stevie’s man to give her another shot. Sweet.
I know this makes two open letter posts in a week, but I’m compelled. I’m catching up on my correspondence this week.
So, I was listening to your song “Say You Will,” and I have some unsolicited advice for you. First off, let me say that rejection is a bitter, bitter pill. But, it’s usually for the best. So, take a global view if you can.
You wrote:
Somethin’ in you brought out somethin’ in me, that I’ve never been since
So, you were in a relationship that made you feel different enough from how you normally feel that you were compelled to mention it? Curious. That sounds unsettling. I prefer being with people who make me feel like myself. But that’s just me.
That part of me that was only for you
I’ll concede, I can’t imagine anyone feels exactly the same with anyone they’ve loved. I certainly hope not. But this fact makes it so it’s not really that extraordinary. You have a piece of you that’s only for your first love. There might be a piece of you that’s only for your last love. A piece for mom and dad. A piece for your dog. You get what I’m saying. It’s just our nature.
that kind of romance
Comes only once, that kind of love
“You live you learn, you love you learn, you cry you learn, you lose you learn,” Alanis Morissette said. She’s got some good lyrics. Maybe you should check them out. What she’s saying is that we evolve. Your world view is changed with new information. If you’re learning, presumably things are getting better for you. You’re honing your approach to love and relationships. So, don’t despair. You’re getting better and better, every day in every way.
That kind of fever dance
That you love because you become someone else in an instant
You become someone else in an instant? Does that mean that knowing someone makes you a different person? Oh, brother. That’s just too squishy for me. Become someone else? Morph much? Try just being who you are and see if you can get the old fever dance going with someone who is also an individual.
But I get it. You like how you feel when you’re with that person. What shall you do? Whatever you do, play it cool. Don’t, I said do not, beg for another crack.
Say you will, say you will give me one more chance
At least give me time to change your mind
No, Stevie! Noooo.
That always seems to heal the wounds, if I can
Get you to dance
Wait a second. You’re going to change his mind by getting him to dance? What kind of fruitcake is he? Oh, hold on…I get it. Is “dance” a euphemism for something else? Like the horizontal mambo? Well, even if it is, you think you’re going to change his mind with that? If so, your mama didn’t do her job properly. That’s not how it works.
Something in you put a hold on my heart
Get over it. I’m going to give you some excellent advice that someone gave me when I was a wee lass. Don’t love people who don’t love you back. This isn’t some sort of self-protection. It’s a way to be respectful of yourself. You’re saying, “I deserve love. I love myself. I’m only going to spend time loving people who love me.”
Go ahead and love whomever you want in a general way – in a Rabo Karabekian way where your core being recognizes the core of others and respects them as humans. Rabo (from Vonnegut’s Bluebeard) said, “…I imagined the soul of each person, myself included, as being a sort of flexible neon tube inside. … So when people I like do something terrible, I said, I just flense them and forgive them.”
So, love all the flexible neon tubes you want. But then take Kurt Vonnegut’s advice again and step out of your comfort zone of whining and begging. Get out of the center. Toe up to the edge. And be yourself. Be confident. Find someone you can love who will love you back.
You’re probably in the other camp about love. This is the Donald Kaufman school (he was from Adaptation, a Charlie Kaufman movie from 2002.) He said, “you are what you love, not what loves you.” Jenny Lewis used this lyric for her 2006 song “You Are What You Love.” But you know what happened to Donald Kaufman? He was killed. And Jenny Lewis, she went on to beg her lover for another chance: (“But you are what you love, and not what loves you back. That’s why I’m here on your doorstep, pleading for you to take me back.”)
Hard to believe now
You’re not the only one finding it hard to believe. Here’s a little love primer from WikiAnswers. It’s how you can tell if someone loves you back. I suspect it’s written for lovelorn teenagers, but it sounds like your emotional development got stunted at an early stage. So, it’ll probably help. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Well, nothing to be more ashamed of than the embarrassing stuff you’re doing in this song.
Here is a place that will never be dark
You mean that desperate little part of your heart that is begging some guy for another chance? That’s the light of your life? Stevie, I’m going to say it because clearly no one else has the nerve to. This is pathetic.
I remember that place
Oh, I understand. You were talking about the place where you hold the memory of your previous love. Soory. Well, I still think it’s misguided. It didn’t work out for a reason. Have you ever heard the little saying about people coming into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime? Not everything is built to last. Which reminds me of some advice the Grateful Dead have for you: “All these trials soon be past, look for something built to last.” They’re with me on this.
That kind of touch
Electricity of love
Excuse me for being blunt, but it sounds like you might just need a little, um, physical affection.
That certain kind of grace
That you love because you become someone else in an instant
Let it go. Listen to this cover of The Beatles’ “I’ve Just Seen A Face” by Brandi Carlile. You should have someone love you like this. I wish it for you because, I love you, Stevie. I do. I love your flexible neon core. Your fleshly angst, on the other hand, I’m finished with that.
“The problem with some people is that when they aren’t drunk, they’re sober.” ~William Butler Yeats
Lohan & Ronson sans bleach
How did Lindsay spend her holiday weekend? She got a DUI in Beverly Hills on Saturday. Went to a party on Monday and passed out in Samantha Ronson’s SUV (that’s a nice picture). Then she checked into rehab again.
As far as I can tell, the night of the accident, she was out partying – yeah, yeah, she’s fresh out of rehab. But really, this shouldn’t surprise anyone who’s knows someone who’s gone to rehab. So, she’s out with her pals and they went to a hotel. When she couldn’t get the room she wanted, she fought with the hotel staff.
Samantha Ronson (the musician / DJ Lindsay has been link with romantically) leaves the hotel in a huff. Lindsay runs after her and calls her names. This must be reverse psychology. But, it didn’t work. So, Lindsay got in her car, drove up to Samantha, and begged her to get in. Probably against her better judgement, Samantha eventually did get in the car, plopped down on someone’s lap, and closed the door. Then Lindsay promptly rammed the car into a tree.
Charges were pressed, cocaine was found, and minor damage was sustained to both palm tree and Mercedes.
“There are two ways to slide easily through life: to believe everything or to doubt everything; both ways save us from thinking.” ~Alfred Korzybski
I don’t know if you heard, but Lindsay Lohan is trying to stay sober. And apparently, so she says, New York is harder to stay sober in than LA. I guess Lohan figured a thing or two out in rehab because recently she said she parties all night because she doesn’t want to be alone. And she hates sleeping alone. She might want to dig a little deeper into this fear.
So, who’s Lindsay sleeping with? Possibly her super best friend forever DJ / musician Samantha Ronson. That’ll last. Possibly Kevin Federline. Ew. Who would date that guy? Isn’t he…um, you know, severely learning disabled?
I’m rooting for Ronson. She’s clearly the better choice, seeing that she can speak and write music and she isn’t a two time baby-Daddy. Apparently, Lohan and Ronson have been friends for a while. Her song “Built This Way” is on the Mean Girls soundtrack. You can hear it if you link to her MySpace page.
So, Lohan and Ronson were seen a few days ago making out in Japan. Lindsay told friends that she and Ronson make out all the time. Whatever. There are so many reasons this doesn’t matter.
What’s slightly more interesting is that, I read some of the blog gossip about the Lohan lesbian kiss and people are still really homophobic. Inevitable conclusion: People are idiots (on a case-by-case basis, naturally).
I was in a diner yesterday and was sitting across from a man with a hat on that read “US Border Patrol.” Clearly this was a novelty hat he wore to announce his politics. Meanwhile, a Latino couple sat behind him, a Spanish speaker at the grill cooked his meal, and a Greek woman seated him and got his beverages. He was friendly and chatty to everyone. He was a regular at that place, I could tell. So, he must be a bigot on a case-by-case basis. I wonder if there’s a hat for us.
It’s been a long time since I wrote about Lindsay Lohan. Why? Well, it turns out that I just don’t care so much about people I don’t know. Guilty. And I complain that people care so stinking much about Laci Peterson or that blond girl who was killed in Aruba but not the genocide in Darfur. But really, isn’t my apathy about Lohan a symptom of the same malady? We care about the things in our consciousness. Mine doesn’t include Lohan. Hence, she takes too much effort. Still, I want people to care about Darfur … but then I write about Lohan? Oh, my flaws run deep, and yet I persist.
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The other day my friend said he’s not ashamed to admit he follows the career of Jeffrey Tambor. Tambor is a character actor of some note. Think: Larry Sanders’ sidekick, Matt Dillon’s friend in There’s Something about Mary, the father on Arrested Development.
And that’s how it is with the character actor. Don’t we just love them? You’re really better off being a character actor if you go into acting for the love. Everyone appreciates a good bit player. But when actors get to big for their britches, which means that they’re A-list famous, we just have to knock them down a peg. Don’t we?
For example, isn’t Brad Pitt looking old? Yo.
That dude turned the corner. And how about Lindsay Lohan? She’s in rehab. Who’s surprised? Who else is big now? It doesn’t matter. Pick anyone. Michael Douglas. He’s too old for Catherine Zeta-Jones. She’s pretty, but dang, that America’s Sweethearts, what a train wreck. Julia Roberts was in that. She sure can ruin a good movie. They keep putting her with Richard Gere, who needs a strong lead to pull off his roles. That movie he did with Winona Ryder is unwatchable. She also really mucked up Mr. Deeds. You know what I mean, right?
Now, let’s look at the above paragraph from a character actor perspective. America’s Sweethearts had Hank Azaria in it. He’s great. He absolutely made The Birdcage as Agador. And Julia Roberts might be a one trick pony, but Joan Cusack was in Runaway Bride with her and she’s always good. Even in 16 Candles where all she does is wear braces and try to drink from a water fountain. And despite Winona, Mr. Deeds had some high points because of John Turturro and Steve Buscemi. They’re great in everything they do. Buscemi was in Fargo with William H. Macy, and you’ve gotta love that guy.
See what I mean? The A-list might get the glory, but the character actors get the praise.
Patrick Warburton is my guy because I love animated shows and Warburton is a huge voice talent. You’d probably know him as David Puddy in Seinfeld, Joe Swanson in Family Guy, The Tick, the cop in Big Trouble, the guy who hit Tim Allen in Joe Somebody. Ok, you probably didn’t see that movie. I don’t blame you. Jim Belushi is in that and apparently he’s s jerk. David Cross hates him. I’ll post the funny YouTube where David Cross is making fun of Jim Belushi by getting on stage during one of his shows and dancing like a dork. There are a lot of stories about why they’re feuding ranging from differences in politics, comedy club heckling, and general ego posturing. I hardly care. I just think it’s funny.
In case you don’t know who he is, which means you never watched Mr. Show, which means I weep for you, here’s a picture of Cross, so you know who to look for when you watch the YouTube, which you should watch at least twice because it’s sneaky.
Back to Patrick Warburton. I started writing this blog and then stopped to hang out with my pal. We were watching some heinous MTV show. She likes them and I like her, so I watch heinous MTV shows occasionally. During the commercials there was a promo for a new sitcom with Patrick Warburton and David Spade. How could this go wrong? David Spade is always funny. Well, except for Dickie Roberts, which is so bad I have a hard time watching it over and over. And that movie with the super model and the dog, Lost and Found, that was dumb. But his talk show was funny if you could get past the stilted, awkward moments. And Joe Dirt was fabulous! So…Rules of Engagement, his new sitcom, I’ll give it a shot.
And as for David Cross, I’ll see anything he’s in. Especially this YouTube.
The first comment on the YouTube site under this clip explains the feud thusly (by Crazy88Gorilla, whom I think we should trust):
For people who think David is doing this to be an asshole or gain attention you don’t know the history between these two. Jim Belushi and David did a movie together and that’s where the “feud” started. Dave asked Belushi to sign an autograph for a sick kid and Jim blew him off saying, “I thought you were gonna get me laid but you’re giving me this sick kid shit?” So, understandably Dave got pissed at this and Jim hasn’t and won’t hear the end of it for a while.
My condolences go out to Lindsay for the loss of her appendix. I am lucky enough to have been able to blog about Lindsay when she had her appendix. I learned so much from it and it was the closest thing to my own organ that I really do believe I’ve had in several years.
The point is, it made a difference. It left us with a legend. Life comes once, doesn’t ‘keep coming back’ and we all take such advantage of what we have. We shouldn’t.
Make a searching and fearless moral inventory of yourselves. Every time there’s a triumph in the world a million souls hafta be trampled on. Its true. But treasure each triumph as they come. And be adiquite.
Lindsay Lohan’s been writing things on her Blackberry and everyone is making fun of her for being stoopit. Her publicist is blaming the Blackberry.
First she wrote condolences to Robert Altman’s family. It contained the phrase “be adiquite.” Whatever. Adequate isn’t the easiest word to spell. Also, she seems to be misusing the word. So, maybe it’s some sort of personal slang. I misuse the word bunk. (Aside to Julie P: Thanks.)
Maybe it was a slip of the texting thumb. I don’t care. [Aside to Lindsay: I’m sorry you lost your friend. You might want to send a handwritten note to the family.]
The next Blackberry message Lindsay caught flack for was filled with odd statements, incoherencies, and spelling errors. It’s a rant about the libelous media and a slanderous LR, who turns out to be her former assistant Lindsay Ratowsky. [Aside to Lindsay: If you’re going to criticize the media, be above reproach. Writers are mean and cynical bullies.] [Aside to self: Not you, sweetheart. You're swell.]
Lindsay is quite frankly enraged by the media attention. Well, not the good stuff. But the stuff that’s untrue. And by untrue, I mean unverified by Lindsay. Don’t call her a drug user until after she comes out and says she was a drug user. [Aside to Lindsay’s lawyers: This is just a hypothetical example and in no way implies that Lindsay has ever looked like she does massive amounts of drugs.]
The rambling note says that she wants to rally the troops, including Al Gore, who said he’d help her, and fight evil.
She wrote:
“If he [Gore] is willing to help me, let’s find out. Hilary [sic] Clinton, Bill Clinton, and Evan Metroplis [sic], and John Daur who works with them would be willing, if we just ask. If we just ASK.”
Now, when I first read this, I thought she meant that she was going to get them to help her fight something like starvation. [Aside to celebrities: I know you feel close to this cause, because you think you know what’s it’s like to starve, but you can eat. Really, you can.]
When I dug in, I realized she was talking about fighting the lying media dogs. Trust me, to get the point you really have to have good translation skills. I happen to have excellent translation skills, which is why I think I should fight illiteracy. [Aside to my sisters: Watch for my post titled “Other Pepoele (sic) Read too.”]
You know what though? I would be annoyed if people made stories up about me. And if I didn’t have a cool dad I could turn to, I’d pick Al Gore. If he can inspires people to take our environmental problems seriously, he can do anything. I couldn’t respect that more. [Aside to Gore: I heart you.]
I hate it when people misunderstand me. But, I’m not going to ask Al Gore or Bill Clinton to help. Well, maybe I should. Al, if you’re reading this, sometimes people think I’m … no, forget that. Al, if you’re reading this, how can I help. I’m a popular celebrity that everyone cares about and pays attention to. What should I do with this power? [Aside to Bill Clinton: Will you blurb my book? You’ll like it. It’s about a chunky woman who makes bad relationship choices.]
This is Tree of Life by Suzanne Etienne. [Aside to self: You're the monkey.]
