Who is she?
Zsa Zsa Gabor - Hollywood actress and author of "The Complete Guide to Men" which is often referred to as the gold-digger's bible. She is more famous for her lengthy string of husbands and her numerous pairs of shoes, than she is for her acting.

What did she do?
Alledgedly, whilst driving through Beverly Hills, CA, Gabor was pulled over by a Police officer. Upon asking for her license and registration it was discovered they had both expired. After waiting ten minutes for the officer to confirm the records, Gabor drove away from the busy cop. Giving chase, the cop pulled Gabor over again and asked her to leave the vehicle. She did so, but slapped the officer in the process. He arrested her and on a subsequent search of the vehicle, a flask of bourbon was discovered.

When?
June 14, 1989

Charged?
Yep, alledgedly with Battery against an officer; disobeying an officer; driving without a registration; driving without a license; driving with an open container of alcohol.

Sentence?
Judge Rubin of the Beverly Hills Municipal Court found Gabor guilty of slapping an officer, and of two of the traffic offenses. Ms. Gabor was sentenced to 72 hours in jail, 120 hours of community service, and ordered her to pay court costs ($13,000)

Expensive Court costs - must have used a caterer! heY!

~ Anemi

SEX, ADD ME

Note: If movies are not visible, try our other site OuteasY

ADD ME.

New York a couple of days ago occasioned to have me walking down West 54th and just past the building most still call “Studio 54.” It doesn’t look like much is going on there now, and appears to be occupied by several offices and other tenants. What a place that was. It really wasn’t that hard to get in the door. You just had to be “wired” in one way or another, or act like you were. I’m mean, even Lillian Carter got in. I doubt the Secret Service let her get loose upstairs where everybody knew the main circuit breakers were “humming.” No matter. Once you were in the club, you were “in.”

Among other things, I’d say Studio was the blueprint of most of the internet social networking sites we’ve got today. Everybody is getting in one, or better, several. Who doesn’t have a My Space space? Remember when email was a passing phase like CB radios? If you’re wired, you too can secure your space.

We figured out during the Studio sexual revolution days, that having casual sex wasn’t necessarrily the cause of large psychiatrist’s bills, and nobody suggested that Pia Zadora was en route to Hell. Everybody was just getting wired to one another. Hooking up on the Internet is very much the same. I’m sure that kindly older dood interrupting the TV with his commercials is turning some coin making matches with lost soulmates online, but everybody else, and particularily women, are just widening their social and sexual circle. And for free. Sure, just like Studio, there’s plenty of trouble when you’re not looking, but for a bunch, it’s just a no-strings-attached social and often sexual experience.

Being wired has it’s positive and negatives for men and women, and I think the two movies here, both from France, are a pretty good “studio” of where it is today.

MEETING ONLINE

MEETIC.FR

“EVERYBODY IS UP TO SOMETHING” sm

CHOKE YOUR CHICKEN

CHOKE YOUR CHICKEN

Big timers the likes of Sir Paul McCartney, the Beastie Boys, and Ravi Shanker are all aboard the PETA gravy boat in support for improving the lives of soon to be dead chickens at KFC. I dunno know, I mean a dead chicken is a dead chicken. Anyhow, PETA has been nibbling at KFC for a while, but it looks like they are turning up the heat in the fry pappy with new celebrity endorsements, movies, etc. One item that’s kinda cool is their “sign generator.” Just type in your message to one of the three provided templates, and the above is an example of what you get. Code is provided, should you want to use this gizmo on your blog or myspace space. Have a look around by choking the Colonel below. Oh, and some of the movies are a bit depressing, but that’s PETA.

“EVERYBODY IS UP TO SOMETHING” sm

April 28th, 2007

GOT CHORD?

GOT CHORD?

This is a follow-up to an earlier story; GOT CUFFS?

FILE UNDER: WHAT IDIOTS!
FILE UNDER: HOW IRONIC

Knock, please…

This is just all too strange, for me anyway. Go read the above linked story, if not already.

Over the past several months, the Atlanta police have been arresting and charging men with indecent exposure for allegedly having sex in the men’s loo(s) at the Atlanta-Hartsfield Airport. Now, the cops are claiming their efforts are targeted toward nabbing erstwhile thieves lifting luggage from the conveyor and relieving same of jewels and other valuables in the men’s rooms. Officer Joseph Villafane (ominous sounding), a police spokesman said, “We’re not out to get all that - it’s just we encounter it.” Read: A close encounter. Sometimes, shit happens in there.

Ok, fine. I’m not buying his version, for several reasons. First, this police “operation” has been ongoing for over three months now, and I’ve yet to get a heads-up on the blight caused by the baggage burglars. Are the Atlanta police making any headway? I ask, because I just got back from Atlanta, sans one suit bag, and no one is bending down to help me. Catching hoods rifling haversacks in restrooms ought to be a no-brainer.

There was a similar problem at LAX at the end of last month, (an American epidemic) where eleven honest-to-goodness crooks were apprehended, but their MO was mainly limited to pilfering purses outside the potty. Paris Hilton got her $100,000 Piaget pinched, and Keyisha Cole’s $7,000 Coultre was copped. The girls got their watches back - California capers closed.

But in LA, the crackdown was the result of a task force involving nearly a dozen law enforcement agencies, including the city attorney’s office, Los Angeles Police Department, U.S. Department of Homeland Security and the TSA. (Wow) Clearly, Atlanta’s police force should learn by example and call in some professionals. I mean, three months now, no line-ups, and I’m still waiting on my luggage.

There are more reasons I’m not buying the Atlanta baggage theft thing. Hear me: where’s the airport ‘mooney’ that pointed the bobbies to the boy’s room? And, what are the girls up to in their can, and how do you know that they’re all girls in there? When I was in the concourse, women were busing hello and good-bye on each other under broad fluorescent bulbs and nobody got busted. Was this some diva’s diversion? Jeepers, Madonna and Britney got paid for that. So, while all this public affection was going on, the Atlanta police ought to have been perusing the powder parlor for my purloined package.

The fuzzes’ story further doesn’t flush, unless they want to claim stupidity. Look, good crooks aren’t dumb. After all this time, no offender has been apprehended, which means the crooks have been following this story through the Internet, Interpol, CB radio, or wherever they get their information, which means we can rule out the WC as the crime scene as far as I’m concerned. My advice is, do what they did in LA, get some hands-on help. Don’t try to handle this ‘hot-pocket’ on your own. Why do your job when you can get someone else to do it for you? This is exactly what Homeland Security, the District Attorney, TSA and anybody who needs a little press are there for. Read your Patriot Act. Thank God for the LA task force. Now, Paris and Keyisha can tell time and gridlock is gone from the Ventura.

Speaking of time, no word on what Atlanta is going to do with those some, thirty-odd doods who were in the place at the right time in the way of ongoing solid police work. Were I their attorney, I’d go for a lesser charge, of say, “interfering with an investigation,” or whatever it’s called. The entrapment defense is just crooning to the choir - used, so best find a deviant somewhere. Anyhow, I doubt the DA will be want to be a complete DA, at least I hope not. ‘Gotta’ be careful in the South distinguishing victims. I saw “nyphonged” just got added to Urban Slang. Being labeled Gay is gay, but can you imagine some creep behind you at the ticket counter muttering; Urban or Nyphong? Ouch. Remember, standards are great, and everybody has one. Boys will be boys, but, boys… even the crooks aren’t doing it in the men’s room anymore. The most recent post at Cruisingforsex on this matter reads, “I hope he wasn’t stupid enough to go back. Although he was stupid enough to go once, maybe he’s not stupid. If he went back he’s an idiot.” Hmm, I think I get it.

And in the file under irony department, one perp’s bio is that of charge of Atlanta’s transportation, one an official with the CDC, one an educator - college prof., one in charge of a symphony choir and an organist with a degree from Ball State. Swanny, Song of the South, go figure. Enough ‘hick pickin’.

~ Anemi

April 27th, 2007

NAPPY HAIR, A RACIAL PART

(L>R) “Nappy Hair,” Prof. Carolivia Herron, Prof. Kay E. Vandergrift, Bushwick, NY, Hillary Swank, Sandy Dennis, Sidney Portier

I’m not much for going to movies, and to this venue, I’m rarely current. I did see the biopic drama FREEDOM WRITERS not long ago, mainly because I like Hillary Swank, but I’ve seen this movie before in UP THE DOWN STAIRCASE, and TO SIR WITH LOVE. These are all pretty much the same, and here’s my logline for all three; “Idealistic young teacher knowingly accepts assignment in tough neighborhood/situation determined to make a difference, gets frustrated with intolerable conditions, motivates largely apathetic students amid setbacks and cynicism of others.” Two big name Hollywood reporter’s critical reviews of “Freedom Writers” offer readers a slant not only on the movie, but where we are today with our own melodrama rekindled by the now famous, “Nappy Headed Hos” line.

Kirk Honeycutt of THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER said of FREEDOM; “Unfocused urban drama is a real missed opportunity,” and James Berardinelli of ReelViews said; “Refreshingly different.” Polarized reviews, as opinions often are, and the same was said of TO SIR and UP (Both films aired 1n 1967 - a quick 40 years ago) Without imagination, Hollywood either remakes or offers new spin on the “deja-vu” because, aside from the box gross, they know in the long run, we cave to success stories, which is, of course the end product of all three films here. To the Imus-Sharpton thing, clearly there is an “unfocused real missed opportunity.” If, however, your take is, “refreshingly different,” you are like me with the movies, not current, and have missed opportunities presented in our own earlier real biopics. There are a bunch of true-life stories I could splice here, but what follows is, without doubt, the most ironic and best, “history repeats itself” drama I know. And really, it wasn’t that long ago.

It’s December, 1998 and fresh-faced, recently engaged to be married, 27 year old Ruth Sherman, a new third grade teacher, has aspirations to teach the world. The setting has Ruth living in Inwood, New York, a small town of mostly white middle-class families in suburban Long Island. Ruth drew her dream teaching assignment in a town nearby, but worlds apart - Bushwick, the Brooklyn “hood,” a gritty black and Hispanic badlands in Brooklyn notorious for it all. For close to thirty years Bushwick leads the city in crime with gang violence, rape, murder, and drugs. Drugs are so rampant, the “shopping” area along Knickerbocker Avenue is known by all the “homeys” as “the well.” Some say graffiti originated in Bushwick. Some say opportunity moved out of Bushwick, others say it moved in. Whatever, Bushwick is not safe - day or night.

Pride also left Bushwick, pushed away by cynicism. Ruth commutes to work, a public elementary school “institution” known uncaring as P.S. #75. “When I first told them, people said to me; ‘Bushwick? Oh my God, why Bushwick?’ ” Ruth said. “But there was something about it. I chose that school because I wanted the neighborhood. I was going to turn things around, really make a difference.”

In just three months at P.S. #75, Ruth Sherman did make a difference, but not what she planned. In less than a week, Ruth was the focus of a small, loud community making it’s uproar heard deep out of “the well.” Things got so bad that Ruth was sent packing, ideals and intentions included, fearing for her life.

Ruth never saw it coming, but her troubles began right away in September with, NAPPY HAIR, a book written by an author born in, the very same district. Ruth chose the story because she thought it would change her students’ lives. She regaled her class with the story of a little black girl with “the nappiest, fuzziest, the most screwed up, squeezed up, knotted hair.” She said they loved it so much that “they clamored for copies to carry with them.” An eager new teacher’s ideals, constrained by an overlooked budget with no tax allocation, led her to the “crime” of paying to have copies made. Poor naive Ruth was Xeroxing her own “best laid plans.”

So, the holidays roll around, but in Bushwick, it’s just another cold month with no thought of celebration. Just before Thanksgiving, a P.S. #75 parent finds a pack of pages from NAPPY HAIR in her daughter’s book bag, and let’s describe the woman as much less than “thankful.” This was the start of it - the books title; NAPPY HAIR, according to Board of Education spokesman J.D. LaRock, who explained that the angry woman and some other parents at the predominantly black and Hispanic P.S. #75 school interpreted NAPPY HAIR as a racial slur.

“The first I knew of the problem, was when this parent came into my classroom and said she was surprised she didn’t see a white hood on my desk,” Ruth said.

After blowing out Ruth, the offended parent, whose name school officials refused to reveal, put pages of the book with protests in neighborhood mailboxes. Almost immediately, Ruth was summoned from class in the middle of a morning lesson. Ruth knew a meeting was in progress to choose a new assistant principal, and her presence had been requested. Knowing she had been a “hit” with her students, Ruth scurried down the hall to the principals office thinking, “could it be me?” Ruth was a “hit,” alright.

Ruth Sherman smiles when she’s nervous, just a clumsy shy tic. And she smiled on her way to the meeting. As she neared, Ruth heard angry shouting and stopped to phone her fiance, telling him she had the feeling something was wrong, and bad things were about to happen.

Ruth entered the meeting, assembled by some 50 parents, most not of her students, and was “greeted” with what she and school officials called abusive language. More nervous than ever, Ruth kept smiling. “I couldn’t stop, and I think that made them madder,” Ruth said. “They started getting in my face, asking me who I thought I was reading that book, calling me a cracker. Nobody would let me or the principal or the librarian, who was waving good reviews of NAPPY HAIR from off the Internet, talk.”

A woman stood up and told Ruth, she “better watch out.”

“I asked her if she was threatening me, and she said it was no threat – it was a promise,” Ruth said.

She left the meeting, reduced to nothing but tears, and was sent home by school district Superintendent Felix Vazquez, who too was present for the meeting, albeit arriving midway through.

“Felix Vazquez told me he heard people saying they wanted to do me bodily harm,” she said. “And that was it. I never saw my students again.”

After a day of review, with cooler heads, the school backed Ruth Sherman and NAPPY HAIR, which has been critically praised as a positive lesson for children. The most outspoken proponent for the book has been Kay E. Vandergrift, Rutgers University Professor - School of Communication, Information and Library Studies, renowned author, international consultant, champion of civil and women’s rights, and principal architect of The Eclipse Project, from Rutgers, home of the very “Scarlet Knights.” (Small world, indeed) We are nearing completion of part two of this story, including Kay’s interest here, a truly remarkable person, and fascinating story.

Carolivia Herron, the author of NAPPY HAIR, said Ruth Sherman’s students were exactly the audience for whom she intended the book. “I wrote it delighting in nappy hair,” said Herron. “I love my own nappy hair and the stories my uncle used to tell me about it. It was a celebration, and I had no idea it would be political. I am a ’60s person and thought we had already dealt with this problem of being ashamed of our hair.” (Wow)

The book itself grew out of a novel. When Herron, an assistant professor of English at California State University at Chico, visited the Anacostia Museum to read from her work in progress, the listeners focused on the vignette about hair.

“The reaction here was wonderful,” museum educator Joanna Banks said. “The story was part of a novel she was working on and was hilarious. I encouraged her to get it published as a children’s book. I thought it would be something for African American children to celebrate.”

A school-wide meeting was called the day after Ruth Sherman left. Only a handful of parents out of the 60 or so gathered, complained about Ruth or NAPPY HAIR. Offers were extended Ruth by the district school board, with promises of extra security and an escort from her car to the school doors. Chancellor Rudy Crew wrote her a letter over Thanksgiving commending her performance and pleading she return to P.S. #75. Ruth declined the offer.

“I miss my kids,” she said. “I wanted to go back for them, but I’m scared. I listened to the idea of someone walking me to my car, and all I could think was, that’s ridiculous. What do I tell the kids about that, after everything I was trying to teach them about getting along and loving each other, no matter what color your skin was?”

What would I tell them Ruth? LIVE, AND IF YOU DO NOTHING ELSE IN LIFE - LEARN.

OuteasY

“EVERYBODY IS UP TO SOMETHING” sm

NATTY HEADED BROs

Khalid Sheik

Rev. Al Sharpton

Sanjaya Malakar

Dre Evil

heY, also visit us at OuteasY & AnemicRoyalty
natTy hEAded broS, hEy!
Be Somebody to Something

~anemi easy 2007

Dannylynn's Brother Mark

Imperial Family Crest, Dad & Son in Hollywood, The Son - Marcus, Mom & Dad

(UPDATED AND MOVED HERE)

Names. I really am the worst when it comes to remembering names, reckless at social gatherings. With this fret, on my way out for the evening, I transfixed my thoughts to little Dannylynn, since at her age, I do not believe she can reason for herself, but no worries, neither can many of her elders. Anyhow, suppose Daddy really is Prince Frederick Anhalt, also known in Germany by his adopted name and station; “Frederic Prince von Anhalt Duke to Saxonia and Westphalia and Count von Askanien?” The good news is that I when I’m old enough, I’ll come to understand I’m a Princess, and my “adoptive” mother is, “Her Royal Highness Zsa Zsa von Anhalt (Gabor) Princess and Duchess of The Holy Roman Empire,” which means If Conrad hadn’t checked out of the hotel early, I could fill him in on the latest pantie romps of Paris Hilton, my Step Great Aunt. But the better news is, I have another brother.

Yup. Seems that about a year or so ago, “Mummy and Daddy” adopted one Marcus Eberhardt of Munich, Germany, and he is now; “Prince Eberhardt Edward von Anhalt Duke to Saxonia and Westphalia and Count von Askanien.” Frederick, now claiming to be 64, met his future son Marcus, 38, at “The Platinum,” a table-dance a go-go club in Frankfurt, Germany seven or eight years ago. (”Mummy” Zsa Zsa, is somewhere in the neighborhood of 90, and I’m not good with math either). Next time you are in Munich, be sure to be taken in at the mansion Fantasia in Riem, the well known brothel owned by, and the source of gah-zillions of Marcus’s Marks. Prior to his adoption, Marcus and Frederick reputedly chummed around in numerous sex clubs throughout Germany. Here’s where you’d think I’d insert; “chip off the old block,” but that story is too good and is reserved for another day. Stay tuned.

Frederick is, of course, too of “adopted” titles, reportedly purchased through our favorite, and likewise adopted “title broker;” Consul Weyer Graf von Yorck. (Read: “Fake Your Way to the Top”) Frederick’s adoption apparently occurred in February, 1980 to the daughter-in-law of Germany’s Emperor Wilhelm II. Then 82, she was; “H. H. Marie Auguste Antoinette Frederike Alexandra Hilda Luise.” Reportedly “Mom” was short of expenses at the time, and Frederick, known then as the “Supporter,” paid her for the title the princely sum of 2000 Marks monthly for the brief time before her death. Our Bests’ tell us irrational exuberance caught up with Marcus and the price of his title was a bit more - in excess of $1 Million.

Anyhow, Dannylynn, somebody, probably actually famous once said, “What’s in a Name?” Don’t ask me who, though. I’m not good with names.

“EVERYBODY IS UP TO SOMETHING” sm