<em>George</em> editor John F. Kennedy Jr. schmoozed with Louis Farrakhan. He gossiped with the editor of the <em>National Enquirer.</em> And he broke bread with Billy Graham. But don’t expect him to nab his next potential subject: Senator Strom Thurmond.
We really love to go recklessly and obscenely fast in anything with a gas pedal. But then the prospect of smashing into a tree or a concrete wall or even water at hundreds of miles per hour always dampens our enthusiasm.
William Parker, avant-garde jazz bassist, leans over his Rubenesque instrument and goes "out." This is the calling of the adventurous player: to journey "outside," beyond the harmonics and chord progressions of mainstream jazz.
BLINKED: Alanis Morissette, during a concert at Mile High Stadium in Denver. The feedback-voiced singer, who has not blinked in public since her debut video in 1995, left the stage in tears, sobbing, "I'm finished. I blew it."
When Milwaukee-brewed actress Kristen Johnston left the legit stages of New York for the sound-stages of Hollywood, she did so with the modest hope of snagging the part of “a sassy sidekick with four lines per episode” on some standard sitcom.
It'll go eighty—eighty miles per hour at top speed and eighty miles per charge. We're talking about the new General Motors EV1, now available for lease in Arizona and southern California.
The rerelease of <em>Star Wars</em> has been tied to a campaign with Taco Bell. Lucky that no similar deal was struck for the silver-anniversary rerelease of <em>Pink Flamingos,</em> John Waters's classic sleazefest.
Death to hipness! A pox on irony! I hope never to read another "hip" novel, I declare, making quotation marks in the air with my fingers in that obnoxious gesture that says, <em>I’m being ironic here!</em> In fact, I never want to spend another hour among the hip.
Now it can be told. The U. S. government, citing national-security concerns, had obtained an injunction prohibiting publication of the following diary entries, which chronicle a near-tragic vacation in Venice last summer.
<p>Elia Kazan will be eighty-eight this September, and under ordinary circumstances that would be cause for rejoicing and celebration. Not that Kazan has ever wanted to be ordinary—he is, after all, in American show business. </p>
Every time you walk into a bank these days, it seems as though the first thing you see is a rack of colorful leaflets inviting you to stick $10,000 or $20,000 of your hard-earned cash into something called an annuity.
Music for listenin', sippin', dancin', and lovin'.
Just as the proper tinkling tune piped from a ceiling speaker may help workers at the office, cocktail music supplies sprightly variations on familiar songs, never swaying too far into artiness yet always remaining entertaining enough to be its own art form.
Billy Bob Thornton done went and made the brashest, most down-home film to hit Hollywood in years. It may even be a classic. Is this proud hillbilly the next Orson Welles?
<p>Like Billy Bob Thornton says, he and the president of the United States aren’t “what you’d call asshole buddies,” but the two, both Arkansas small-town boys made good, have run into each other several times over the years, “just around home.”</p>
Talking short is in bad repute these days, but before the sound bite came the aperçu and the aphorism, the slogan, the saying, and the epigram—all the succinct wisdom that’s packed into <em>Bartlett’s.</em>
Your friend is a problem drinker, a fallin'-down, commode-huggin' drunk, off and on the wagon. Fresh from rehab, he’s trying to put his life back together. You’re having a dinner party, and he’s invited. Do you serve the sauvignon blanc with the meal?
Americans and women share the spotlight with the Italian masters
Milan has retaken center stage in men's fashion. First, there was the rejuvenation of Gucci, led by American designer Tom Ford, and the stunning rise of Prada, whose black and brown nylon fashions have swept across gender lines to influence men’s wear.
Gabriel Byrne takes cover in the new high-tech rainwear.
In one of the more memorable roles of his career, as a gangster in <em>Miller's Crossing,</em> Gabriel Byrne expanded the notion of the movie tough guy: He spent an astonishing portion of the film getting his lights punched out, never quite managing to get on the proper end of a good right cross.
Yes, one could say we had a history, Donald Trump and I—a history that ended with my saying I was sorry for him and his saying he was sorrier for me (he always has to win) and calling me “creep,” a word I hadn’t heard since I used to beat up my brothers.