UPDATE: Kenny Chesney

Country music crooner Kenny Chesney is flipping out in Key West.

Oh mercy children, this Kenny Chesney fella has Your Mama's booze soaked brain spinning faster than a merry go round at one of them Mac-Donalds restaurants.

Late last night, after Your Mama was well into our fourth gin and tonic (and thinking about a fifth), we received a covert communique from a Key Westian (Key Westite?) named Squiggy the Squealer who whispered in Your Mama's big greedy ear that it looks like the historic house in on Caroline Street that's rumored and reported to have been purchased by Mister Chesney is back on the market just ten days after records show it sold for $5,700,000.

Yes puppies, back on the market. How does our man Squiggy know this? There's a brand new "For Sale" sign hanging on the front gate that was not there two days ago.

At first we were all tied up in knots trying to figure out what was going on. Then Squiggy the Squealer sent Your Mama another covert communique with a link over to a story on some radio station's website and they have all the juice.

Turns out Mister Chesney did buy the W. Hunt Harris House but has decided to sell it before even moving in with this explanation in a recently issued statement, "I may've been naive to think I could just go down to the Keys and disappear, because that was the idea. I wanted to find a place where I could just be, and thought I'd found it. But with all the buzz since we signed the papers, the last thing I want to do to someplace I love as much as Key West is change the dynamics, especially for the locals who have been so good to me, so, I'm stopping the insanity before it begins. The 'For Sale' sign is back up, and I'm just not going to be able to take possession of the house."

I wonder if that's what happened last year when the singing superstar scooped up a lovely house on Carbon Mesa Road in the hills above Malee-boo and just two days later put it back up for sale with an asking price $550,000 more than he paid?

UPDATE: Robbie Williams

Back in October of 2008, we chit chatted with a gossipy gal we call Babbling Babette who whispered to Your Mama that British pop star Robbie Williams was gearing up to buy a big ol' mansion in Beverly Park. Although Babbling Babette seldom steers us wrong in the celebrity real estate game and swears on her well stuffed cross your heart bra that Mister Williams was negotiating to purchase the 7 bedroom and 7 bathroom property, in the end he did not buy the hulking house which was listed at $23,995,000 (now listed at $19,995,000).

Now we know why he didn't proceed with the purchase. Reports are starting to surface that Mister Williams is headed back to his native U.K. where in December of 2008 he bought an 18th century country mansion on 71 acres in north Wiltshire that includes 7 bedrooms, a swimming pool, gym, sauna and perhaps most interestingly, a helicopter hangar.

It was Mister Williams' sister who let Mister Williams' geographical cat out of the bag when she told an interviewer that her brother was returning to Britain to because he, "loves British culture and the British people." She went on to say that although Mister Williams has enjoyed living in Los Angeles where the suns shines all the time, it's also a "pretty soulless place." Oh. Ouch!

Might it also be, Your Mama wonders, his desire to return home is at least in part because his attempt of making it big in the U.S. of A. didn't go quite as swimmingly as planned?

Anyoo, Mister Williams, owns several pricey properties in Los Angeles including a couple of parcels on Mulholland Drive where he famously built a private soccer pitch as well as his primary L.A. residence, a 10,681 square foot house (pictured above) which happens to be sugar borrowing distance from the recently robbed Paris Hilton in the guard gated Mulhulland Estates community.

Mister Williams' sister stated that the former boy bander turned solo singer was planning to keep his house in Los Angeles. We heard something different. Your Mama recently heard through the gossip grapevine that Mister Williams' people are quietly negotiating to sell the house to kinky haired and real estate agent suing rock star Slash. We can't confirm that children, so remember, at this point it's just idle chit chat and party gossip. However, when and if you see it written about in a few weeks without credit being given, remember puppies, you heard it here first.

Mister Williams' British property holdings once included a flat in Notting Hill, a 15th floor apartment in the Chelsea Harbour development and a country place in east Sussex, but to be honest children, Your Mama has no idea if he still owns any of these properties.

The Biggest Price Chop Ever?

SELLER: Amit Ben-Haim
LOCATION: 15 Central Park West, New York, NY
PRICE: $47,500,000
SIZE: 5,276 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 5.5 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Step into your private landing on the 40th floor of New York's most sought after new condominium residence. Enjoy completely unobstructed views over Central Park West and the Hudson River. All major rooms have 14 foot ceilings. Masterful layouts by Robert A.M. Stern Architects. 5,276 square feet. Four bedrooms, five and one-half baths. Ground floor suite: 1,222 square feet with private street access ideal for owner staff offices. An extraordinary offering.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: If the children will put on their thinking caps and dig deep into the recesses of their mind they might recall all the rumors and reports from October of '08 about Madonna's post-dee-vorce boy toy Alex "A-Rod" Rodriguez looking to buy an $80,000,000 penthouse at the super swank Indiana limestone clad 15 Central Park West building in New York City.

Remember all that nonsense? Not only was there a lot of whispering and speculating about the recently unhitched Mister Rodriguez's interest in the 40th floor condominium, there was a lot of (justifiable) shock and awe regarding the hair raising $80,000,000 price tag.

What was most puzzling and perplexing to Your Mama about the whole thing was not whether Mister Rodriguez could actually afford an eighty million clam condo, but rather that the seller–who the New York Times identified as a London based investor named Amit Ben-Haim–listed the four bedroom spread at nearly 4 times the $21,500,000 they paid for the place in April of 2008, just two months earlier. Two months!

It will be no surprise that Mister Rodriguez did not buy the apartment.

Soon after all that brouhaha and gossip about Mister Rodriguez, the owner took the apartment off the market. Until now. Thanks to the fine sleuthing of Natalie Attired, Your Mama has learned that the apartment that was once one of the highest priced listings in New York City has returned to the market with a serious karate chop to the asking price. Listing information now shows a price of $47,500,000. That's right, $47,500,000.

A few gleeful flicks of the well worn beads on our bejeweled abacus and we see that the sellers have chopped a mind melting $32,500,000 off the price. Now that children, has to be the largest single price chop ever, right?

The apartment measures 5,276 square feet, offers a private elevator landing and large public rooms with expensive views over Central Park. The private quarters include a 30 foot long kitchen/family room, 4 bedrooms and 5.5 windowless bathrooms including a master suite with two entrances, two walk in closets, two giant windows looking over Central Park and, natch, two private poopers, one of which has a bee-day for the all the people who like to have their naughty bits be sparkling clean at all times.

Forty seven and some million big ones not only buys you the apartment but also a 1,222 square foot ground floor suite where the Richie Rich owners can park their live in staff and still maintain a modicum of privacy. Maintenance and taxes will run a sizable but not unheard of $7,506 per month.

Other notable buyers in the Robert A.M. Stern designed complex include Sting and Trudy Styler, Denzel Washington, Norman Lear, writer John Ridley, NASCAR honcho Jeff Gordon, sportscaster Bob Costas and a slew of Wall Street types and big bizness barons including Goldman Sach's Lloyd Blankfein and Abigail Wexner, wife of billionaire Les Wexner who recently and quietly heaved their gigantic Fifth Avenue pied a terre on to the market with a $60,000,000 asking price.

Tidbits and Whispers

1.
Have the children seen the myriad of reports about how former Lehman Brothers CEO Dick Fuld, who reportedly earned close to $40,000,000 in both 2006 and 2007, sold his Jupiter Island, FL hideaway to his wife Kathy in November of 2007 for just $100? That's right chickens, one hundred clams.

Well, we've read all those reports too and the whole thing just makes Your Mama want to puke.

Speculation by many is that the property ownership transfer was an effort by Mister Fuld to protect his ass-ets should irate shareholders and creditors who lost billions in the collapse of Lehman Brothers go after his considerable personal wealth with a furious flurry of lawsuits.

Their Jupiter Island hideaway, for which Mister and Missus Fuld jointly forked over $13,750,000 in March of 2004, isn't the only ass-et the Fuld family is apparently looking to protect and/or liquidate. Just days (Days children! Days!) after Lehman Brothers filed for bankruptcy, the modern art collecting Missus Fuld was rumored to have put approximately $20,000,000 worth of artwork up for sale at Christies that included works by big shit abstract expressionists like Arshile Gorky, Willem de Kooning, Agnes Martin and Barnett Newman. Was the timing just coincidence? Could be. You decide.

Although the demise of Lehman Brothers sucked tens of billions of dollars out of the economy, property records show he and his wife Kathy still own several excruciatingly lavish and expensive to maintain properties including an 11+ acre spread in the hedge fund heaven that is Greenwich, CT (pictured above), a 6,200 square foot fixer upper on Manhattan's posh Park Avenue for which they paid a knee buckling $21,000,000 in March of 2007, at least one property in Ketchum, Idaho near the Sun Valley ski resort, and another just outside of a small town called Cornwall in Vermont. And that's just what Your Mama came up with after poking around property records for less than five minutes.

Your Mama is all kinds of indignant and spitting mad now and we see a fat nerve pill in our early morning future.

2.
All sorts rumors and reports are starting to surface and swirl about that Lauren Conrad gurl from The Hills moving out of her house on N. Orange Grove Avenue in Los Angeles and into a high rise condo along the Wilshire Corridor in Westwood. Your Mama has heard the rumor (rumor children, RUMOR!) that Miss Conrad and roommate–whose name we don't know or care to know–are moving out because they were having a lot of conflict with the neighbors who were hissy fitting about all the unwanted activity on the block that resulted from filming at the house.

Holy Mary Mother of God! Who cares?

Isn't this gurl's Warholian 15 minutes up yet?

3.
You're gonna love this one children. We sure did. Your Mama hears from Nelly Knowsitall that whistle stop wonder Mariah Carey is not the only high maintenance showbiz dee-vah considering shacking up in the San Fernando Valley. Can y'all guess who it is?

Are you ready? Get ready to whoop, holler and gasp for air...

It's Jennifer Lopez.

Can. You. Stand. It?

Miss Knowsitall whispered in Your Mama's big ear that the La Lopez and entourage recently toured several large and lavish homes in the 10,000 square foot range. Well of course she did. Beehawtcha cain't be living up with that wild eyed huzband and two kids in any kind of house smaller than a damn boo-teek hotel.

Miz Lopez and her huzband are making all sorts of real estate news lately as they've recently bought the neighboring property to their Brookville, NY estate and, as everyone surely knows by now, Mister and Missus Lopez also have their Bel Air mini-compound on the market with an $8,500,000 asking price.

4.
It was also recently whispered in Your Mama's big ear by someone who would know that a couple of big name famous folks (1 male and 1 Oscar nominated female, who are not a couple) have been seen peeping properties in the $3-5,000,000 range in the star studded Los Feliz area of Los Angeles. More details to come when we know more.

Does Kenny Chesney Have Island Fever?

BUYER: Kenny Chesney
LOCATION: Caroline Street, Key West, FL
PRICE: $5,700,000
SIZE: 6,888 square feet, 5 bedrooms, 7 full and 1 half bathroom
DESCRIPTION: ...Stately and elegant, the 5 bedroom, seven and one-half bath house has high peaked Gothic style roof over classical Revival portico and four graciously arched bays. The beautiful arched front door is distinctive and rare in Key West...Large rooms, 13' ceilings, elegant moldings and hardware, formal living and dining rooms, custom designed 1500 bottle wine room, an outstanding kitchen equipped with all gourmet appliances, Carrara marble counter tops and in-kitchen dining.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Okay babies, Your Mama is going to pass along some unsubstantiated celebrity real estate gossip here. We don't normally do this sort of thing, but besides the not so surprising news that security conscious stay at home mommy Jennifer Lopez and her frighteningly skinny salsa singer huzband Marc Anthony bought the house next door to their Brookville, NY estate, the pickins are somewhat slim this morning. So we're going with what we got and we ask that the children keep in mind this information is not yet verified with property records and suggest that if you're going to go around trying to impress your friends with all your celebrity real estate knowledge you best qualify this one as rumor. You got that children? Rue-mer. At least for now. Now then...

Although Kenny Chesney, the diminutive country music crooning superstar, has yet to unload the seven and some million dollar property he bought last year in Malee-boo, CA and just two days later flipped back on the market with a stunning $550,000 increase over what he paid, Your Mama hears from Fanny the Floridian (among others) that the award winning singer/songwriter recently closed on an historic house in Key West, Florida. Your Mama's tipsters all swear on their little sisters' navel rings that Mister Chesney purchased a lavishly renovated property on Caroline Street that is generally referred to as the W. Hunt Harris House. We aren't the only folks who think this neither.

However, before we get to discussing the big ol' house down in Margaritaville, Your Mama has a bone to pick with Mister Chesney regarding his incessant hat wearing. Listen buddy, we all know yer bald under that thing. And despite your (and your handlers) misgivings about it, there ain't nuthin' wrong with bald. In fact, bald can be hot. It's the pretending yer not bald that's not so hot. (Just so y'all know, we are not being defensive due to any follicular issues on our part. Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter both have full heads of hair.)

Anyhoo, property records Your Mama accessed do show that the house in question did indeed transfer ownership in mid-January, 2008. Records show the previous owners received $5,700,000 from the new owner. That's a lot of money for an island hideaway but it's not nearly the $6,495,000 listing information shows the sellers were asking for the property.

Listing information shows the fully renovated and restored W. Hunt Harris House measures 6,888 square feet and includes five bedrooms and 7.5 bathrooms. For those not schooled on the historical who's who of Key West (and why would you be?), back in the late 1800s Mister Hunt Harris married into one of the first and most prominent families to settle in Key West and proceeded to build himself house which was completed in 1898. At least that's the 411 on Mister Hunt that appears in the property's listing.

The front façade somehow manages to remain dignified even though it is a thorough melange of Southern Antebellum, Greek Revival and Gothic architectural styles mixed with classic Key West features like the arched front door that leads to a narrow buttercup yellow entrance hall.

The main floor, with stately 13 foot ceilings, includes a formal living room that due to its current shockingly bright coral colored paint job screams, "Look at me! NO! ME! Not the dining room, ME!" Other punishable decorative offenses in the living room include upsetting gold colored swagged curtains, a couple of floral printed swooping settees and a cheap-ass looking ceiling fan. Don't nobody misunderstand Your Mama here because we think this house is a gorgeous example of modern day Key West living–if you're a couple of middle aged, empty nesting, heterosexual multi-millionaires–and we totally respect the sellers sensitive and comprehensive restoration of the historic house, but that retina burning coral colored living room set up has got to go.

The dining room, painted the palest shade of baby blue Your Mama has ever seen, features a glittery crystal chandelier and an unfortunately off-center fireplace. Listing information reveals the adjacent wine room holds 1,500 bottles of booze and has its own generator ensuring that when a hurricane takes the power out (and you know it will), the vino stays at a perfect temperature.

The kitchen is large enough for two cookers to maneuver comfortably, has a mix of Carrara marble and wood counter tops which may or may not be teak. Naturally it's nearly impossible for Your Mama look past the monolithic and menacing pot rack without cringing but when we do we spy something for more upsetting than a pot rack. That would be, of course, that stoopid stuffed parrot hanging in the window. Have mercy.

Beyond the kitchen is a breakfast area as well as a window wrapped family room with shiny wood floors, a truckload of white furniture and few more of the same cheap looking ceiling fans we found in the living room. Okay, what's with the cheap looking ceiling fans? We recognize that fans are fantastic for moving the hoo-mid Key West air around and it's obvious this place was not done over on a dime, so can someone please explain these uglee ass fans that look like someone bought them in bulk at a Home Despot clearance sale?

Located on the second floor of the main house, the master bedroom features a large bedroom with a coal burning fireplace (coal?) and some kinda crazy fabric treatment behind the bed, a separate dressing room, a mini-kitchen for late night ice cream snacks, a private balcony that runs the width of the house and is only accessible through the master bedroom and a Carrara marble clad bathroom that successfully manages to merge Old World with new fangled and, perhaps best of all, has a shower built for two.

A guest suite completes the second floor and offers a sitting room, steam shower, walk in closet and private balcony. All that sounds perfectly lovely, but Your Mama fears that with a dee-luxe guest room like guests will never pack up their toiletries and leave. The third floor provides an office area and two more bedrooms with en suite terlits.

The back yard, lush with verdant and steroidal tropical greenery, includes a 42 foot long swimming pool with brick terracing and a commodious wood floored pavilion with a high peaked ceiling that is set up for outdoor entertaining and late afternoon tabloid reading. The guest house/pool cabana, located at the far end of the swimming pool, has been built to withstand a category 5 hurricane, so you know where Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter would be holed up with our menagerie when the wind starts a-blowing. The lower floor of the cabana thing is comprised of a gym space with retractable glass walls where Mister Chesney can do his Bikram yoga in the shaded but open air, an attached full bathroom and an outdoor shower (love that!), custom cabinetry with built in desk and a washer and dryer which means, of course, that no stinky work out wear ever need enter the main house. Upstairs, the fifth bedroom suite offers over night guests (or staff) a morning kitchen, entertainment area (whatever that means) and a private balcony.

As far as we know, Mister Chesney continues to make his primary home in a big Cape Cod style mansion that sits on a 48 and some acre farm in Franklin, TN and which records show he picked up in September of 2003 for $2,500,000. And, of course, there's also that house on Carbon Mesa Road in Malee-boo which he was unable to sell last year and which records show he still owns and appears to have been taken off the open market.

The Man Who DOOMED San Francisco!

Last Wednesday, movie producer Charles H. Schneer died at age 88. Now normally, among honest actresses (an admittedly rare breed), a dead producer is the best kind, but Schneer will be missed by film fantasy fans everywhere.

The screaming headline above: "San Francisco DOOMED!" comes from the preview of the second movie Schneer produced, It Came From Beneath the Sea, his first of 13 collaborations with film legend Ray Harryhausen. Here's Ray and Charles together, preparing to make fantasy film history. Ray, as always, is the bald one. Since the bull-headed model between them is from Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger, the next-to-last of their mutual films, this picture is from late in their collaboration.

Charles was not simply the Roy Disney (Money man) to Ray's Walt (Creative). Charles was a true collaborator, as deeply invested creatively in their projects, as he was to making them happen. If you look at their string of films, as we are about to do, you will see that he was as important to fantasy films as George Pal.

Oh look, here's George Pal with Ray. Was Ray cheating on Charles? No. Harryhausen and Pal went way back, to Ray's early days working on George's "Puppetoons". Besides, no one who met George Pal could avoid falling in love with the darling man. Plus, well, don't they both look a bit drunk?

Ray probably wished he was drunk when this next, quite recent, picture was taken, since he's stuck posing with Little Dougie. Well, when you're a figure as towering as Ray, you have to put up with a lot of annoying fans.

Charles made other films besides his work with Ray Harryhausen. But perhaps the less said about them the better. One was Hellcats of the Navy, the film which brought Nancy Davis and Ronald Reagan together. When you're partially responsible for America getting stuck with that evil cow Nancy Reagan as First Lady for 8 years, 8 years you spent safely living in London, well, you're well advised to keep quiet about it.

Another of his films was I Aim for the Stars, an admiring biopic of Wernher Von Braun, the Nazi rocket scientist and SS officer who developed the V-2 rocket that rained death on London on behalf of Hitler, and then, after the war, came over here and was a major force in America's rocket programs, while teaching rocket science to kids on TV for Walt Disney, all his enabling mass murder for the Nazi's forgiven. Shrug it off. So he was a Nazi swine. That was so last decade.

Another of his non-Harryhausen films was the oppressive musical Half a Sixpence, starring the flash-in-a-pan, overbearing Tommy Steele.

You see why I think we should perhaps just skip his non-Harryhausen movies?

After producing his first film, The 49th Man, Charles saw The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms, and was excited by the possibilities of Ray Harryhausen's stop-motion animation techniques. They met, and decided to sic a giant sextopus on Northern California to tear down the Golden Gate Bridge. San Francisco was DOOMED!

What, you ask, is a sextopus? Well, aside from being something I've been called on more than one occasion (Eleanor Roosevelt had such a mouth on her!), it's also an octopus with only six tentacles, which is, of course, cheaper to hand animate.

They had to smuggle their cameras onto the bridge secretly because the San Francisco City Council refused them permission to shoot on the bridge. Why? Because they felt the movie would "undermine public confidence in the bridge." Yes, the council was afraid that the movie It Came From Beneath the Sea would make people afraid to use the Golden Gate Bridge in case a giant sextopus might tear it down while they were on it! Well, the movie came out and there was no drop in bridge use, and now it's been out for 53 years ago, and so far, there has not been any giant sextopus attacks on the bridge, or indeed, any proof that there are any giant sextopuses at all, nor even any giant octopuses. What science has proved is that George W. Bush was not the first, nor even the dumbest, idiot politician in America. The San Francisco City Council: protecting Californians from the fear of giant mollusks for more than half a century.

Their second film together was Earth vs the Flying Saucers, a spectacular depiction of Washington DC getting trashed by aggressive flying saucers. Except for being in black and white, and the fact that Hugh Marlowe makes Gene Barry look like Marlon Brando, it's every bit as good as George Pal's War of the Worlds.


At the age of 6, Little Dougie saw this film in it's original release. It opens with a faux-documentary sequence. Since Little Dougie hadn't yet learned to read (I wouldn't say he's mastered it even now), he thought the film was a newsreel, and it scared the bloody hell out of him. The fact that Hugh Marlowe had a successful career as a professional actor, he still finds frightening.

This shot is supposed to be at a missile base on the east coast, but it was actually shot at a water purification plant in El Segundo, a couple miles away from where Little Dougie was living at the time in Redondo Beach. It wasn't bad enough that Dougie thought the movie was really happening, the friggin' flying saucers were invading his neighborhood.

No, that's not the vehicle waiting last week to take George Bush back to whatever evil planet he came from in the first place, his mission to destroy American values and economy accomplished. It's Harryhausen's aliens trying to attack Eisenhower. Too bad he was off playing golf. If you ignore the script and the acting, Earth vs the Flying Saucers is a damn good movie.

The next Schneer-Hrryhausen collaboration was the sci-fi thriller 20 Million Miles to Earth. In it an earth rocket, sent up by a secret American space program, returns from the planet Venus with the egg of a Venusian, which hatches, grows to be a huge monster in about three days, and goes on a rampage in Rome before being shot to death on the Roman Colosseum.


Where to start? Okay, the rocket was supposed to have landed on Venus, where the astronauts (Paul Drake from Perry Mason) had adventures. The temperature on Venus is around 800 degrees Fahrenheit, and the atmosphere is as thick as Jello. I hope they had good cooling systems on their space suits, and, let's say sturdy and heat-resistant technology on the ship.


The Venusian creature, a "Ymir," just grows, without eating. When it does eat, it eats nourishing sulphur. If it's a species that evolved on Venus, it would find our atmosphere unbreathable, and it would freeze to death in the chilly (compared to 800 degrees) Mediterranean climate of Italy. They call this science fiction, because all the science in it is fictional.

Incidentally, the film is set in Italy because Ray was bored with life in Los Angeles, so he set the story in Italy to get a free trip to Italy. That is executive thinking at its finest.

Bart Braverman from the TV series Vegas, as a small boy (with the very non-Jewish stage name "Bart Bradley") plays the obnoxious child-hustler who is supposed to be plucky and adorable. This horrible character type also recurs in Schneer & Harryhausen's Valley of Gwangi, where it's just as unbearable. 20 Million Miles to Earth is a very entertaining movie, but it is wildly preposterous from beginning to end.

For their next film, Schneer and Harryhausen switched to color, and from sci-fi to Arabian Nights fantasy with one of their biggest hits, the beloved 7th Voyage of Sinbad.

That's gay actor Kerwin Mathews, who is about as Arabic as I am, in the film's most famous sequence, having a scimitar fight with a living human skeleton. How do you kill a living skeleton? The picture revolves around a mission by Sinbad to release Mrs. Bing Crosby from a curse laid on her by an evil sorcerer. Since it's all fantasy, one can't point to scientific errors, but there's still the fact that it presents Bhagdad as a seaport. There are now way too many Americans who know only too well how very far inland Bhagdad is.


And look at the poster for this film above. It says "The sheer magic of Dynarama now recreates the most spectacular adventures ever filmed." Recreates? Did someone think that sword-fighting skeletons, fire-breathing dragons, horned cylopses, four-inch high crooners' wives, and Scandinavian Arabs actually existed at some time in the past?


But silly as it is, it's a tremendously fun, deservedly beloved movie, and it has a terrific musical score from genius Bernard Herrman. And the skeleton fight is rightly considered some of Ray's best work. Here is Ray's own sketch of the climax of the skeleton fight, showing just how you kill a skeleton.

They liked Kerwin Mathews (So did I!), and so kept him around for their next fantasy epic, an adaptation of Jonathon Swift's satirical classic novel Gulliver's Travels, which they titled The Three Worlds of Gulliver, since it was felt that using the extremely well-known title of the famous-for-centuries classic novel might confuse people. If they'd filmed The Wizard of Oz, they'd have called it Dorothy and the Blustery Day. Plus, Gulliver only visits two fantasy worlds in the movie, so the title is actually more confusing.


As this photo implies, starring in two consecutive Schneer-Harryhausen fantasy classics (as well as an imitation Schneer-Harryhausen fantasy film, the 7th Voyage knock-off film Jack the Giant Killer, which is actually a lot of fun also) must have given Kerwin a severely swelled head, although every thing I've ever heard about the late Mr. Mathews indicates that he was a lovely, charming man. I wrote an obituary piece on him titled The Last Voyage of Sinbad, and a follow up piece titled Oh What a Bagdad Had. Click on both and enjoy.

Their next joint project was an adaptation of Jules Verne's sequel to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the science fiction classic Mysterious Island, about a group of American Civil War soldiers escaping from a southern prison camp only to get marooned on an island beneath which lurked the Nautilus, with an elderly Captain Nemo rattling around all by himself.


Little Dougie had just read the book when the film came out, so he was surprised, to say the least, by the parade of giant monsters the castaways had to deal with, since there are none in the novel. Well, at least they weren't assaulted by a smoke monster, attacked by Ben Linus and The Others, or jostled about in time. Time jostling was George Pal's province at the time. Here they are battling an attack by giant crabs. These days, they have a lotion that will take care of that in one shower - ah - so I'm told, that is.

The actor in the center of that shot is Gary Merrill. When the movie was shot, he had just divorced Bette Davis, after a decade of marriage. After ten years of - ah - "Wedded Bliss" with Bette Davis, all the giant monsters Ray Harryhausen could hurl at him weren't enough to raise a sweat. "Huge crabs? Giant honeybees? An undersea tentacled horror? A volcanic eruption that destroys a whole island? Puh-lease! Child's play. Try surviving Bette's journey through menopause."

Ray, Charles (as opposed to Ray Charles), and many of their fans agreed that their next film, Jason and the Argonauts, was their best one, although I think that Clash of the Titans is at least as good, and as a hero, Harry Hamlin is a vast improvement over Todd Armstrong. In the picture above, the titan Talos is strolling along the beach, stomping on Argonauts. Clearly Talos spends a lot of time on the beach. He's so bronzed, he looks like he's made of bronze.


The move from Arabian Nights and whimsical satirical English fantasy literature into Greek mythology was a good idea. Both Ray's techniques and his artistic temprament were a good fit with the Gods of Olympus. Oddly enough, it was actually a remake of the recent international mega-hit Hercules, starring Steve Reeves. Watch them as a double feature sometime. Two more vastly different versions of the same story are hard to imagine. Harryhausen & Schneer's film has a strong, literate script, a damn good cast (Honor Blackman, fresh from playing Pussy Galore in Goldfinger, plays Queen Hera), 1964 state-of-the-art special effects, including a magnificent 7-headed hydra (see below) and a battle between three Argonauts, and a whole platoon of living skeletons. Reeves's film has a lousy script, a laughable excuse for a monster, ludicrous overdubbed dialogue, cheap special effects, the nearly-naked body of Steve Reeves, and a shirtless crew of Argonauts (Jason is a supporting character in his own story) all of them handsome and covered in rippling muscles. Yes, Hercules is by far the better movie!!!!



Of course, like all fairy tales, there's a boy-meets-girl subplot, and the hero and heroine are last seen sailing off to Happily Ever After. But for adults with some literary knowledge, it has a blackly hilarious edge, because the lovers are Jason and Medea, and the educated know that the marriage of Jason and Medea will end one day with Jason dumping her for another woman, and Medea, All-Time Mother of the Year, taking revenge on her husband by murdering their children. Lovely bit of horrific irony there.

Their first foray into the world of anamorphic widescreen came with their Cinemascope science fiction literary adaptation H. G. Wells's The First Men in the Moon. Nominally science-fiction, the science in this film makes 20 Million Miles to Earth look like a lecture by Stephen Hawking.


The 19th Century astronauts travel to the moon via "Cavorite," a ludicrous substance which "Cuts off' gravity the way a window blind cuts off sunlight. After that, finding a moon full of caves with a breathable subterranean atmosphere, and a population of intelligent insectoid creatures is a small leap. That the astronauts are able to cavort about the surface of the moon in ocean diving suits with no gloves, and just tight-fitting cuffs around their wrists to keep their air in is almost believable next to Cavorite.

The first hour of the film, on earth, with a lot of expertly-played comedy dominated by the great comic actor Lionel Jeffries as Professor Cavor (And a tiny, unbilled cameo appearance by Peter Finch) is actually the best part of the movie. Once they take off for the moon, it all becomes rather odd, and there is a singular parcity of Harryhausen's animated creatures, though some of the sharp satire of Wells's novel does find its way into the movie. There is a clever modern-day prologue, that depicts a modern moon landing with astonishing accuracy, given that we were still five years away from actually landing on the moon, in which the modern astronauts find evidence that humans had preceeded them to the lunar surface. And there's an ending Wells would have approved of; learning that Cavor's head cold had wiped out the entire lunar population.

A remarkably odd dinosaur adventure came next: Valley of Gwangi, based on a story by Harryhausen's mentor Willis O'Brian. Set at the turn of the century in Mexico, it's a cowboys and dinosaurs story, with a lost world in a cut-off valley, a two-bit wild west show, a band of gypsies led by a blind crone who croaks out dire pronouncements about "The Curse of Gwangi," and even a dwarf who gets eaten by a tyrannasaur in front of a paying audience. (That's entertainment!)


After Gwangi, Schneer and Harryhausen returned to Sinbad for two consecutive films. The first, The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, featured John Phillip Law as a blonde Sinbad, a most unusual trait in an Iraqi. The villain is Doctor Who, Tom Baker to narrow it down. There's a lovely Miklos Rozsa musical score, and a terrific, tour-de-force sequence of Sinbad's men battling a six-armed statue of Kali.

Things were more of a mess in Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger, as the lumpy, inelegant title shows. Determined never to cast an Arabic actor, or even close to one, as Sinbad, this time they went with Patrick Wayne, John Wayne's even-less-talented (hard as that is to imagine) son. Had they done a fourth Sinbad film, they probably would have cast Tab Hunter. Come to think of it, Tab would have been a double improvement on Patrick Wayne. Tab can act, and he's sexy. Wayne is neither. The plot is a mess, with a villainess who grows weaker as the film goes along (strong villians get more powerful, not weaker) and they end up in an arctic pyramid.


There's another Doctor Who, Patrick Troughton this time, only he's a good guy in this one. Tyrone Power's daughter, Taryn Power, is in it, and beautiful Jane Seymour. There's a saber-tooth tiger, a friendly troglydite that could have been played just as well by an actor, and a giant golden minataur, sometimes animated, and sometimes played by the actor who played Chewbacca in the Star Tours movies. But dopey as the whole thing is, it features some of the subtlest, most amazing animation Ray ever did.


You see one character is a human prince transformed into a baboon. Instead of using a real baboon, Ray animates the baboon, and animates his human emotions onto his face with a delicacy and artistry that surpassed anything he had ever done before. The movie is pretty bad, but the animation of the baboon's face is amazing. The best work he'd done since Mighty Joe Young.

Charles and Ray were to make one last film together before mutually retiring. Clash of the Titans was a glorious last hurrah. Returning to Greek myths, this time they took on the myth of Perseus and Medusa, but felt so utterly free of any duty to tell the ancient story as it has been for millennia, that they stuck The Kraken, a character out of Norse mythology, into the story as the ultimate menace, rather like having Seigfried and Brunhilde battle Paul Bunyun and Pecos Bill.


The cast is about as star-packed as you can get. Laurence Olivier is Zeus. Claire Bloom is Hera. Others in the cast include Ursula Andress, Sian Phillips, Maggie Smith, Burgess Meredith, Flora Robeson, Tim Piggot-Smith, and gorgeous Harry Hamlin, at the height of his himbo beauty, as Perseus, wearing peek-a-boo, nipple-revealing togas.

Harry and Ursula, though widely seperated in age, took to each other, and ended up having a child together. Yes, Harry and Ursula's son owes his existence to Clash of the Titans.

But with all the great actors on view, it is Harryhausen's creatures that steal the show: his beautiful Pegasus, a horse that doesn't so much fly as gallop through the air, the multi-armed, out-of-place Kraken, a brace of scary giant scorpions, and most wonderful of all, his chilling, amazing Medusa, a brilliant sequence, whose lighting, Ray has stated, was based on Joan Crawford movies, More than just the lighting if you ask me. Well, Joan had nicer skin, and less-unruly hair.

An intelligent, literate script, a brilliant cast, even in the small roles, some of Ray's greatest creations, a budget far above any he'd had before, and even some lovely manflesh (Jason and the Argonauts had finally learned its lesson from Hercules), it was a lovely way to go out.


Here's Little Dougie's DVD of the film. Even on the disc, they've made sure you notice how hot Harry looks in the picture, as he attempts to give head to the Krack-en. I must apologize for the way Ray Harryhausen has scribbled his name across the disc. He must have vandalized it when he was visiting me here at Morehead Heights. Ray is always coming by with armloads of Tallulah Morehead memorabilia he begs me to sign for him. Such a trial, but it's the curse of movie legendom that I must bear.

Ray and I made two pictures together. The second, 1,000,000 Years Ago, was produced by Hammer Films, and so doesn't concern us here. But our first, the 1956 Amassed Artists black & white shocker THAT!, was a Charles Schneer production, albeit one he seems to have forgotten he ever made.


I play a lady scientist called in to help Kenneth Tobey and Richard Carlson save the day when a rogue dose of radiation causes my normal pussy cat to grow to the size of The Smithsonian Institution. Needless to say, my giant pussy regards mere humans as cat toys, and the city of Washington DC is nearly shredded to bits. I come up with the brilliant plan to cover the Washington Monument with shag carpeting, turning it into a gigantic scratching post. All Mankind seems to wilt when confronted by my giant pussy, but I stiffen their resolve to destroy the huge furry thing, which is using the National Mall as a massive litter box. Once treed on the Washington Monument, we bombed the oversize pussy with a massive overdose of catnip. Ray had the time of his career, bringing my enormous pussy to life.

There was a lot of discussion about the title. Originally they wanted to call the movie It Came From Out of the Cat Box, but that was felt to be too close to their earlier It Came From Beneath the Sea, as well as Ray's pal Ray Bradbury's It Came From Outer Space, and might cause confusion, as well as pretty much begging critics to call it doo-doo. I suggested just shortening the title to the punchier It Came!, but this was felt to sound too much like a science ficiton porn movie.


They used Bad Kitty for a working title for a while. The problem was, in scenes using a real kitty (Ray only lay his magic hands on my giant pussy), when the first AD would yell stuff like "Bad Kitty, scene 12, take 4!" the cat would hide.


Then we tried calling it Bad Pussy, but marketing had some kind of problem with putting out posters that read "See Tallulah Morehead's Bad Pussy!" Finally, we just went with THAT!, joining the ranks of films of the decade with titles like The Thing, It, Them, They, Those, Them Thar, and Pronoun!, all very scary movies.


Charles H. Schneer, the unsung half of Ray Harryhausen. The 20th Century would have been a lot more mundane without him. Thanks Chuck.

Cheers darlings.

Donations in name of Charles H. Schneer may be made to the Mayo Clinic Alzheimer's Disease Research Center, Department of Development, Mayo Clinic, 200 1st Street SW, Rochester, MN 55905.

Sidney Ponson Lists Fort Lauderdale Mansion

SELLER: Sidney Ponson
LOCATION: Delmar Place, Fort Lauderdale, FL
PRICE: $4,950,000
SIZE: 6,467 square feet, 6 bedrooms, 7 full and 3 half bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Incredible 3-story 6br/7ba+3 half bath estate located 1 house from Point w/ great views of Intracoastal & Las Olas Bridge...Media room. Elevator. Fully furnished. 100' water dock.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: When we recently heard from Our Man in Florida who whispered in our big ear that some person named Sidney Ponson listed his Fort Lauderdale mansion with an asking price of $4,950,000, Your Mama had no idea who he is. None. Not one.

A few clicks on our long suffering keyboard and a quick scan across the internets revealed that the Aruban born Mister Ponson is a professional pitcher of baseballs, which pretty much explains why Your Mama did not recognize his name because, he truth is, Your Mama barely knows the difference between a baseball and a football. And you know what? We like it that way, we do not want to hear about our proud ignorance regarding these things.

Anyhoo, according to the information we pulled up on the interweb, Mister Ponson has migrated from team to team to team over the last 10 or so years and most recently signed on with the New York Yankees, a team for which he previously bandied the baseball. By all accounts Mister Ponson can really hurl a baseball but he's apparently also got a bit of a reputation as a hard living troublemaker who earned himself a couple of DUIs back in 2005 and dropped charges for assaulting an Aruban judge who was presiding over a complaint about Mister Ponson's alleged (mis)handling of a powerboat.

Property records show that Mister Ponson picked up his water front property on Delmar Place in Fort Lauderdale, FL in July of 2004 when he forked over $3,750,000 for the 6,467 square foot residence. Listing information indicates the three story house has six bedrooms and 7 full and 3 half bathrooms which means the unmarried Mister Ponson has got 10 damn terlits. Your Mama would bet our long bodied bitches Linda and Beverly that his minimum wage house gurl hates him.

Listing information shows the house was all did up by some well known ladee decorator Your Mama has never heard of who filled the place with a lot of beige and brown things. Notable amenities that appear in the listing include a soaring entrance hall that looks more like some damn hotel in Moscow than a private home and a marble floored living room with a "majestic fireplace," whatever that is, and a "detailed ceiling," whatever that is. A library/study offers floor to ceiling custom bookshelves that currently hold more tchotchkes and wine bottles than books, and the gore-may kitchen features the sort of carved cabinetry and granite counter tops that well to do people who drop big bucks on over-sized faux Tuscan style mcmansions seem to favor.

In addition to the family room, which listing information reveals has a custom entertainment system where Your Mama imagines a tee-vee the size of a damn Hummer has been installed, the Ponson pad also offers a private home theater with wall to wall brown leather chairs, vaguely Art Deco-ish torchère style sconces and a screen that appears to drop down out of the ceiling.

The not particularly masculine looking master bedroom has an acre of light beige carpeting, a sitting area with a fireplace and a brocade and fringe settee, dual closets, a big ol' soaking tub, steam shower, a vanity counter and 2 water closets so the owners can do their morning dirty bizness concurrently.

Some of the more interesting features of the house, according to listing information, would be the hidden wine closet tucked under the staircase, the two laundry rooms≠1 up and 1 down–which would surely make our dictatorial house gurl Svetlana crack a rare smile, and last but not least, a panic room, a high-cost feature of increasing numbers of paranoid rich people.

Listing information also indicates the house has been outfitted with satellite tee-vee, a surround sound system, internet connections, and a private security system which can all be manipulated with the Smart House control.

Outdoor recreation facilities include a large tiled terrace on the roof above the second floor where one can stare across the Intracoastal to the Las Olas Bridge, a heated swimming pool and spa with adjacent cabana (with bathroom), an outdoor kitchen and a 100 foot long dock for parking the boat.

Your Mama certainly does not know why Mister Ponson would choose to sell his brown and beige designer done digs. Maybe he's tired of all the vacationing gays that flock to Fort Lauderdale to over tan themselves in very, very small bathing suits that leave little or nothing to the imagination. We tease. Your Mama knows Fort Lauderdale has more to offer residents and visitors than countless gay friendly and clothing optional resorts. We just don't know what those things are.

The Bush Legacy

At least they're gone. Let the rebuilding begin.

Cheers darlings.

Cheryl Ladd and Brian Russell List Santa Ynez Property

SELLERS: Cheryl Ladd and Brian Russell
LOCATION: Roblar Avenue, Santa Ynez, CA
PRICE: $5,795,000
SIZE: approx. 7,000 square feet, 4 bedrooms, 4 full and 1 half bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: ...Exquisite yet comfortable European inspired country estate on 22 acres with panoramic views of the entire Santa Ynez Valley. This thoughtfully designed and appointed manor features soaring ceilings, grand spaciousness and an open floor plan ideal for formal or casual living.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Before Drew Barrymore, Cameron Diaz and Lucy Liu were taking orders on the big screen from a mysterious man named Charlie there was a ladee named Cheryl Ladd who worked her stuff as the high kicking, gun toting and criminal chasing Kris Monroe on the original and iconic boob-toob program Charlie's Angels.

Since her salad days on Charlie's Angels back in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Miz Ladd has (among other endeavors) made some records, written a couple of books, hoofed it on Broadway, acted as the spokesperson for some menopause public service thing, advocated for the protection of children, and spent 5 years working her stuff on the recently axed tee-vee drama Las Vegas.

She also left the glitz and glamour of Hollywood and moved to the hoity toity hinterlands of the Santa Ynez, CA where she and her music producer huzband Brian Russell have spent the last 15+ years hunkered down in a vaguely neo-classical Italian country house like mansion that thanks to a source we'll call Vlad the Revealer Your Mama has learned they recently put on the market with an asking price of $5,795,000.

Property records show the couple picked up their 22.5 acre parcel way back in 1989 for just $459,000. Lawhd have mercy children, remember back when half a million clams really bought some real estate and not some crappy studio apartment in Queens or a tract house out in a newly created suburb of Los Angeles that's 102 miles from the office?

Anyhoo, presumably the couple spent the next several years designing and building their 7,000+ square foot house which is accessed up a long Oak tree lined private road that leads to a large gravel motor court with a fountain and a slew of potted Olive trees. Four narrow Cyprus trees flank the front door which opens to a large sky-lit entrance hall. On one side sits a grand piano and on the other a small table and chairs–who would actually sit there, we don't know–and a large and deeply upsetting painting of pears on the other. It has been quite a some time since Your Mama has run across the sorts of pear paintings that seem to pop up in celebrity owned homes in alarming numbers and we really wish it had been longer because while clearly rich and famous people love them, we just do not get the appeal of pear paintings as art regardless of how realistically they are painted.

Listing information shows the single floor residence includes four bedrooms, each with a private pooper, and another half bathroom for guests. The hilltop property offers panoramic views of the Santa Ynez Valley, which is, of course, the same neck of comely California scrub land north of Santa Barbara where notorious property princess Ellen Degeneres has owned several large ranch properties and where, all the children surely recall, Michael Jackson shacked up in an amusement park masquerading as a house called Neverland before he fled the area in the aftermath of an embarrassing child molestation trial.

Other amenities according to listing information and photos is a formal living room with very high ceilings, a wood burning fireplace and a lot of dignified but very ordinary looking beige furniture sitting on spotless beige wall to wall carpeting. The large wood floored dining features high wood beamed ceiling and stone walls which Your Mama hopes are real stone and not some nutty paint treatment meant to look like stacked stones.

Listing information reveals the gore-may kitchen is open to a large family room and dining area that despite the lack of a tee-vee looks like a well conceived and comfortably decorated room with plush velvet sofas, deliciously worn leather chairs and ottomans, a fireplace for warming the tootsies and if the children look really close, you'll note the mesmerizing views out the many large paned windows.

At the rear of the house is a covered veranda anchored by four fat and gorgeously groomed ivy covered pillars. For the most part, the design and day-core of the Ladd-Russell residence is not how Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter would choose to spend five and some million clams, but we are luh-ving those ivy wrapped pillars and can easily imagine being happily splayed out on those chaise lounges wrapped in a cashmere throw from Hermes sipping gin and tonics and watching the sun go down over the rolling hills of the Santa Ynez Valley. That, as one of Your Mama's friends we no longer talk to used to incessantly say, would not suck.

While the house is surrounded by lawns large enough to have several booze fueled and concurrent croquet tournaments, apparently Miz Ladd and Mister Russell don't care for tennis, swimming or the horsies because, oddly and despite it's 22 acres, the property does not have a swimming pool, tennis court or stabling facilities. Pity.

Coupla Quick Items To Start the Week Off Right

Listen babies, Your Mama has a list of properties to discuss this week but before we get rolling on that we're going to cut in to our scheduled programming in order to get a couple of joo-see celebrity real estate tidbits off our desk...

1.
Hold on to your britches children because Oscar nominated power pair Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are back in the celebrity real estate gossip columns. Just last week the world learned that the unmarried parents of 40 or 50 multicultural children, who have spent the last year or so traipsing around Europe like a band of very rich gypsies, are getting ready to wing their way back to the U-nited States of America and settle down in a water front monster mansion on the Gold Coast of Long Island in quietly swank Lloyd Neck, NY.

Naturally, these dedicated nomads won't be staying in Lloyd Neck long enough to enroll their 72 children in the local schools. They'll reportedly only be in residence long enough for Miss Jolie to film her next cinematic endeavor, Edwin A. Salt, a film which Your Mama will not likely pay thirteen bucks to see in a movie theater.

When the couple's coterie of personal assistants pack up their well traveled Louis Vuitton cases and load up their multi-culti clan into the family bus and pull out of Lloyd Neck, they reportedly won't be headed back to the shores of Malee-boo where Mister Pitt has owned a spectacular oceanfront estate since about the time he traded in his former wifey Jennifer Aniston to live in sin, make babies with and adopt a small army of foreign children with notorious man (and woman) eater Angelina Jolie.

According to a gal named Courtney Nazlett, who pens The Scoop column for folks at MSNBC, Mister Pitt is planning on putting the modern cliff hanger of a house on the market.

Can the children hear the gasps of shock and awe heard around the world? Your Mama sho can.

Bookies are taking bets on which of the family's many properties they'll settle in next, but word on the celebrity real estate street is that the Jolie-Pitt clan are heading back to Chateau Miraval, the secluded estate in the French countryside where they shacked up after Miss Jolie pushed out those cute twins last year.

2.
Pop star Mariah Carey and her man mate Nick Cannon are rumored and reported to be peeping around at high priced properties in some of the better (and not so better) zip codes of Los Angeles including a 7,000+ square foot house in Studio City that happens to be just around the corner from Alex Trebek's historic spread and walking distance to George Clooney's super private pad.

Although we know there are many swank and expensive areas in the San Fernando Valley where all kinds of rich and famous folks bed down, Your Mama would not have imagined Mariah shacking up in The Valley. If we we're Miss Mariah's real estate agent, and of course we are not, I'd haul her skin tight jean wearing boo-tay immediately over to Jennifer's Lopez's $8,500,000 crib in Bel Air because not only is it celebrity worthy, she could probably save a few pennies on installing security systems because you know that place is already locked down like Fort damn Knox.

Although Your Mama is not a big fan of the whistle stop wonder's ear piercing warbling and we certainly don't care for her trademark belly baring outfits only a streetwalker could love, the high end real estate market in Los Angeles could really use an exuberantly rich gal like Miss Moneybags Mariah running around in a chauffeured Yukon flinging money around like there was no damn recession affecting all the less financially fortunate.

Miss Mariah's current real estate holdings include a giant triplex apartment in the TriBeCa area of New York City which was done up and decorated by Prince of Chintz Mario Buatta and where she reportedly keeps Marilyn Monroe's old piano and has a Hello Kitty themed bathroom, a decorative situation which Your Mama knows deep in our soul is a very, very bad idea. Miss Mariah recently added to her property portfolio when she purchased a compound down on a slim sliver of land in the Bahamas called Windermere Island. In the past, the scale sliding songstress has spent vast amounts of moolah leasing posh properties in Aspen and The Hamptons, but as of today Your Mama is not aware of Miss Moneybags Mariah fishing out her diamond encrusted checkbook to purchase any properties in those locations.

3. Oh dear. Here we go again. Beat up and beleagured Los Angeles real estate agent Josh Flagg, whom the children will recall is the unkempt boozy looking dude from the most recent season of Million Dollar Listing, is back in the news.

Last year, Mister Flagg was arrested for allegedly stealing pricey paintings out of a posh property or two in which he represented the sellers. After heaps and hordes of bad press, the L.A. District Attorney dropped the charges leaving Mister Flagg free to return to pushing properties in the Platinum Triangle with his held held high.

His relief over the dropped charges was short lived, however, because according to a new report on gossip juggernaut TMZ—who seems to be gunning halaciously hard for the guy—Mister Flagg is being sued by the estate of a dead ladee named Marcia Israel for the alleged "wrongful taking of personal property." Oh my.

The estate of Miz Israel is alleging the young Mister Flagg obtained several high value paintings and Jade sculptures that mysteriously disappeared from Miz Israel's Sunset Boulevard mansion after her death and during a period of time Miz Israel's huzband was staying on the property. Miz Israel, a noted L.A. philanthropist who went to meet the big garmento in the sky back in the summer of 2004, was the founder of a successful chain of west coast retail stores Your Mama has never heard of called Judy's.

According to TMZ, a ballsy and unnamed private investigator claims to have taken a few snaps of the missing artworks through the window of Mister Flagg's Beverly Hills home. That's right children, through the damn window!

Mister Flagg's attorneys have reportedly answered back by saying that the estate of Miz Israel has no case against Mister Flagg because the statute of limitations has run out. Huh? Your Mama ain't no kind of lawyer and we are certainly in no position to act as a judge, but that sounds sort of, uhm, odd, don't it?

Now children, we are not defending Mister Flagg because we find him to have a less that lovely and sorta smarmy disposition (at least he did on the tee-vee), but before anyone jumps to conclusions or convicts Mister Flagg in the court of their own mind, let's remember that previous charges against him for similar allegations were dropped. Sometimes where there is smoke there is fire, and sometimes there is just smoke.

Interestingly, Your Mama was contacted last week by a person we'll call Peeping Tom who claimed to have "a hot one" on Mister Flagg but never revealed the details or even the nature of his gossip.

4.
Now that she's finally managed to sell off her house in Malee-boo's Serra Retreat, Your Mama gets an unusually high number of requests regarding the real estate whereabouts of Aussie icon Olivia Newton John. Your Mama freely confesses that although we agree she looked marvelous in shiny leotard back in the 1980s, we are not nearly as interested in Miss Newton John's current location as many of the children seem to be. However, we do like to keep the children pacified, so....

Thanks to several convert communiques by several interested parties including one this morning from a gal we'll call Mary K. Mart, it's our understanding that Miz Newton John recently decamped to the Jupiter, FL area where she's shacking up with her herb pusher huzband John Easterling who owns a 3 bedroom and 3.5 bathroom house in the gated community surrounding the Turtle Creek (golf) Club which, as it turns out, is currently listed for sale at $850,000.

That's all we know folks. And for the record, we do not know–so don't bother to ask–if Missus Easterling is living in the above mentioned house or some other place.

Now then, back to our regularly scheduled programming.