Joan Rivers Puts a Big Number on Her Penthouse

SELLER: Joan Rivers
LOCATION: East 62nd Street, New York, NY
PRICE: $25,000,000
SIZE: 5,190 square feet, 3 bedrooms, 4.5 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: ...The Penthouse boasts a suite of superb reception rooms, a dramatic 2-story Gallery & light-flooded Living Room with original architectural detail painstakingly restored by museum-trained artisans. These rooms are distinguished by soaring 23’ high ceilings, exquisite original boiserie, elegant parquet-de-Versailles flooring and original marble fireplace surrounds. A spacious corner paneled Library and well-proportioned Formal Dining Room featuring 18th century French panels overlook a sunny, south-facing terrace with majestic views of the city and Central Park....

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Your Mama loves us some Joan Rivers with her potty mouth, scathing humor and a face that looks like Madame. So when we heard from New York Ned and then read in the New York Times that the sassy septuagenarian had listed her Upper East Side doo-plex penthouse we just about peed our pants.

It should come as no surprise that the ballsy and brassy Miz Rivers–who is, let's be honest, thisclose to becoming a clownish caricature of herself in the same plastic surgery vein as Cher and Michael "The White Lady" Jackson–listed her 5,190 square foot penthouse on swank East 62nd Street with a ballsy, brassy and blistering $25,000,000.

Property records are a bit wacky on this one, but as best as we can tell from the people at Property Shark is that Miz Rivers purchased the 3 bedroom and 4.5 penthouse condominium in 1988 for an unknown amount of money but an amount that we would bet our long bodied bitches Linda and Beverly was a fraction of the current asking price.

Listing information reveals Miz Rivers' residence sits atop a 42-foot wide limestone mansion built in 1903 by noted architect Horace Trumbauer in "the neo-French Classic style" for a ladee named Alice Troth Drexel who had married into the famous Drexel banking family of Philadelphia. Sometime later the once grand house was chopped up into 12 condominiums, at least some of which still feature original details.

Miz River's aerie, according to listing information, includes a "dramatic" gallery and living room with 23-foot ceilings, parquet de Versailles flooring, original fireplace surrounds, and original boiserie which is really a nice gay decorator word for carved paneling. Miz Rivers has had a Fort Knox worth of gilding done in the main reception room and in the larger of the two, which looks like the sort of place in which Marie Antoinette might feel comfortable, the ceiling has been painted like a clouded sky. Your Mama wonders if a system of fiber optic lighting hoo-has turns that blue day sky into a dark night sky with twinkling stars just like the ceiling does at that horrid mall at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas.

The dining room has much lower ceilings than the reception rooms, but is no less ornate with it's 18th century mirrored panels and gilded details. We're sort of surprised to even see a dining room in Miz Rivers' residence because we thought the crass comedian had stopped eating about 100 years ago and instead just injects herself with a combination of nutrients, Restylane and formaldehyde.

The library, with its wonderfully wacky Cheetah print carpeting includes more paneling, another original marble fireplace mantel, built in book shelves with actual books–say what you will about Miz Rivers' but at least the beehwatcha reads–and a giant dark caramel colored tufted sofa where she probably sat and watched herself on the boob-toob while she won the most recent season of that deplorable Donald Trump's Apprentice.

The dining room opens to a tiled and planted terrace which is a lovely feature but does anyone really imagine that Miz Rivers actually sits out there? She's really not a creature made for being out of doors unless it's to dash from the back of a car to the front door of a building. She's not a vampire, of course, but certainly the sun would quickly shrivel and melt the ol' gurl in 2 minutes or less.

The New York Times reported that Miz Rivers wants to sell her penthouse of old-school Upper East Side opulence in order to move to California to be closer to her daughter Melissa, who lives in Los Angeles and is the surgified spitting image of her mother.

Other showbizzy residents of Miz Rivers' building include film producer Alan Ladd Jr. and Tessa Kennedy who is the mother of actor Cary Elwes and film agent Cassian Elwes.

Miz Rivers also owns a country house north of New York City in Litchfield County, Cee-Tee.

So Many Lanes

Ever given yourself a porn star name? You know how it goes: your first name comes from your childhood pet's name, your last is the street you grew up on. Mine comes out to Bucky Willow. This development has kept me out of porn as I have no desire to be a bottom in gay porn.

I often wonder how porn stars come up with their names. Wouldn't surprise me if some of them use the above protocol. I'm sure an overwhelming majority choose from a pool of stereotypical porn star/ stripper names (e.g., Amber, Britney, Nikki, Angel, Heather, Brandy, Chloe, etc). Of course you have your Sasha Greys and their obscure references. Who knew you could make sex flicks with Sascha Konietzko and Dorian Gray's monikers?

What about last names? There are the obvious references to sex (your Coxes and whatnot). There are certain last names that are abundant in porn for reasons I have yet to find out. Cody Lane, Sunny Lane, Vanessa Lane, Morgan Layne, etc. Why are there all these Lanes in porn? Is it their IRL surnames? Is there some sex reference I'm just not seeing? Is there some proto-sex goddess to whom all these women are alluding? Do all these signs point to Chasey Lain? Lois Lane? Does anyone know?

More Mish Mash

Your Mama has a bit more mish mashing to do this Friday morning. We are going to try to be brief today (which we rarely are) because Your Mama has to run out to the LAX to pick up our finely feathered and usually drunk friend Fiona Trambeau who is winging her way down to celebrate her 147th birthday. And children, trust Your Mama when we tell you that we absolutely must not be late or else there will be trouble. See, our little lamb is terrified of flying and last time she headed down for a visit she steeled her worked nerves with half a dozen early morning Bloody Marys and ended up on the baggage pick-up turnstile in just her pantyhose and tube top squealing like a pig because her pie-eyed mind thought she was riding the damn Matterhorn at Disneyland. Well, we do not need to tell the children, Your Mama does not care to have a repeat of that ugly situation.

Okay then, here we go...

1.
Even since before high-haired super star singer Rihanna vacated her colorful rental house in the Los Feliz area of Los Angeles, she was out shopping for a new house to buy. Your Mama kept hearing whispers coming down the gossip grapevine that she was peepin' and a pokin' around very contemporary cribs in the Hills of Hollywood in the five to six million smackers neighborhood.

Next came rumors and reports that Miss Riri scooped up a big ol' house in Bel Air for twelve million dollars. Not true. At least not as far as we could figure. Then she disappeared from Your Mama's celebrity real estate radar until yesterday when she popped up in the Gimme Shelter column of the New York Post which reported that Miss Riri is relocating to Noo York City for the summer and will be forking over $18,000 to shack up in a Soho building with a part time doorman.

Listing information for Riri's rental shows the 2,305 square foot spread includes a living/dining room with 4 windows over looking Greene Street, a small but well equipped kitchen with sparkling white counter tops, a master suite that occupies on its own floor and includes a sitting area, bedroom, walk-in closet and a windowless bathroom. Downstairs there are two more windowless poopers, a windowless office space and two bedrooms, one of which opens to the 464 square foot terrace that Your Mama can promise the children offers not a bit of privacy so it's a good thing Miss Riri is planning on tenting the terrace. At least that's what the Post is reporting she's a-gonna do. Enjoy New York City Miss Riri and be sure to tell The Chicken Your Mama said hello when you see her.

2.
A couple of weeks ago we gave a run down on all the wildly rich residents of 820 Fifth Avenue which is, as all the children now know, one of the most exclusive buildings in all of Manhattan. At the time we were stumped as to who owns the 10th floor. We know that part of the 1oth floor has been doo-plexed the the ninth floor unit owned by financier Michael David-Weill but we couldn't sort out who owns the remainder of the 10th floor. Turns out, the owner/occupant is Belgium, at least according to an informant we'll call Le Échotier. Apparently, the government of Belgium uses the co-operative unit as the residence for the Consul General and has set the place up with "a small amount of office space, a waffle iron, and Belgian and American flags intertwined here and there." A waffle iron! That was funny.

3.
Yesterday Your Mama mentioned that porcelain skinned and cold-eyed Australian actress Nicole Kidman sold off her Darling Point digs that clung to a hillside overlooking the glistening waters of the Sydney Harbor for $13,200,000 (AUS)*.

Since then a couple of kangaroos have whispered in Your Mama's ear that Miz Kidman and her country crooning huzband Keith Urban snatched up a 420 square meter** duplex penthouse for which they reportedly laid out around $6,000,000 (AUS).***

The Lavender Street apartment complex, according to recent reports, is just a hop, skip and a jump from the Greenwich Peninsula homes of Miz Kidman Cruise Urban's parents and television presenter sister Antonia Hawley and her litter of little ones. The two floor aerie is said to include 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, open plan living areas that open to wide terraces that overlook the Sydney Harbor.

* $13,200,000 Australian equals $10,308,012 at today's rates
** 420 square meters equals 4,521 square feet
*** $6,000,000 Australian equals $4,685,460 at today's rates

4.
Our Fairy Godmother in Beverly Hills just rang our bell to let us know that noted Los Angeles property developer John Bersci has finally gone to escrow on his historic personal residence which he first listed with an asking price $11,495,000 but has had to slash all the way down to $7,995,000 before a buyer presented him or herself. Well, good for Mister Bersci.

5.
Speaking of house flippers, back in mid-April of 2009, Your Mama had a sit down with our gabby gal pal Kenny Kissentell who let it slip that talent manager turned high end house flipper Sandy Gallin was fixing to put his latest Bel Air project on the market with an asking price so high we dared not repeat it when we relayed the rumor to the children because our ears simply could not believe the figure Kenny was passing along to Your Mama was correct. Turns out, Miss Kissintell was right. We should have known. Beehawtcha always is.

Miss Gallin rarely puts his posh properties on the open market, but times are tough for sellers of 8-figure residential real estate extravaganzas in the Platinum Triangle so he's listed the Siena Way residence with a couple of high profile real estate agent men named Kurt and Ernie who are marketing the entirely over-hauled house with a hair raising asking price of $32,000,000.

Some of the children may recall that Miss Gallin purchased the Siena Road residence from the estate of Emmy winning Hollywood actress Jane Wyatt back in the spring of 2007 for about eight million clams. Anyhoo, ever since then he and his team of smart architects and nice gay (and probably well-built) decorators have been bizzy as beavers giving the elegant and dignified Paul Williams designed manse a full face lift, a fine set of veneers and a really good boob job, meaning he gussied up and restored what he could, replaced what was not, and added a huge new wing that increased the size of the stately estate to a reported (and huge) 12,000+ square feet. Your Mama hates to call Miss Gallin a real estate size queen, but when the shoe fits...

The newly rehabbed residence, according to listing information, includes 7 bedrooms and 12 bathrooms including an entire wing devoted to a master suite with dual bath suites so that the owners need never bear the indignity of pooping in the same terlit. The front door, flanked by two perfect oval windows, opens to the front hall where Your Mama was thrilled to see that Miss Gallin retained the original curving staircase. Well done chappy. The living room opens into what listing information calls a "living lounge" which opens to a serene and commodious covered porch with a cobblestone floor, fireplace, and vines that cling to the chunky square pillars.

In addition to all the expected rooms, listing information indicates the house includes a kitchen of stone and stainless steel (with a large and potentially lethal pot rack), a billiards pub (which sounds like a conscious attempt to man up the house), a glass-encased wine room (hello!), a media room with a gigantic u-shaped sectional sofa, a ginormous gym (y'all know how the gays and Hollywood hotties like to work them muscles), steam room (ahem...), a fully equipped guest house and a yoga room. Good heavens, does every rich person in L.A. still do the yoga?

The grounds too, natch, have been completely re-worked and including a narrow driveway and motor court of crushed pebble–which surely sounds dee-voon under the tires of a $400,000 Rolls Royce Phantom–and a back yard of unnaturally green and prairie flat lawns that are accessible from many of the main rooms. The swimming pool is a heroic 100+ feet long. Think about that for a second...one hundred feet long. There are also, according to listing information, fountains that flow over river rock and "concealed" spots under garden arbors for quiet contemplation and gin and tonic drinking.

Listen kids, Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter are not nor ever will be in the thirty-two million dollar housing market, but if we were, this isn't so far from what we'd want even though we think thirty two million is a hell of a lot of money for this house. None the less, we swoon over traditional shells with properly and masterfully modernized interiors...minus the gym and the yoga room of course, because we'd prefer to leave all that pushing, pulling, gyrating and pretzeling to all the body fascists and youth chasers that people the streets of Los Angeles, of which Your Mama is neither.

Now then, we gotta go gas up the big BMW and haul it down to the aeropuerto to snatch up Miz Trambeau before...well, you know.

Thursday Morning Mish Mash

We've got a few celebrity real estate items we need to get off our chest.

1.
In early March of 2009 singer/actor/songwriter Jessie McCartney listed his house in the Hills of Hollywood for lease at $4,900 per month. While Your Mama has no idea if anyone actually leased the modernized 2 bedroom and 2.5 bathroom cottage, we do know that the entertainment mini-mogul who currently appears on some program we've never heard of called GRΣΣK, recently listed the modest and comfortable looking La Granada Drive domicile for sale with an asking price of $1,199,000.

2.
Last week, Your Mama discussed the real estate melodrama facing toothy Manhattan socialite Marisa Noel Brown and her (former) financier husband Matt who bought an East 78th Street townhouse in January of 2008 for $13,500,000, gutted it, had plans drawn up for a multi-million dollar renovation and just last week flipped it back on the market with a much lower than they bought it for asking price of $12,000,000.

At the time we discussed the brouhaha, we had not seen the floor plan but since then a plan has popped up and since Your Mama knows all the children love them a little floor plan porn we figured it might be fun to peruse the plans Missus Noel Brown had for her new crib before the primary (if not sole) source of their riches–her father's failed hedge fund–went belly up.

A quick peep over the layout (below) tells Your Mama that Mister and Missus Brown hired the right architect for the job because for a somewhat narrow townhouse the floor plan appears well resolved, easily lived in and almost entirely free of the funky formations and awkward transitions too frequently seen in these skinny New York City townhouses.
Of special note is the full floor master with a generously sized sitting room that looks to Your Mama's boozy eyeballs to have two fireplaces, a bedroom that features a large if not exactly private window looking out over the wee gardens behind all the neighboring properties and a long dressing area and bath that connects the two spaces.

We would also like to point out that both the elevator and the elegantly oval staircase service all seven floors, that each of the 5 family bedrooms has a private pooper as do the 4th floor study and the garden level staff room which is, we have to say, punishingly puny. Up on the top floor we're thrilled to see not only a front facing terrace that probably has a sliver view of Central Park, but also an outdoor kitchen for summertime grillin' and chillin'.

We're sure the new owner will want to hire their own architect and put their own stamp on the design, but they might consider saving themselves a few pennies by working with the plans Mister and Missus Brown's plans because they're good. We know y'all like to sass and complain but you do gotta admit, they are good.

3.
We do not normally discuss properties featured in films because they don't generally belong to rich and famous people. However, since we have been getting dozens of emails about the glassy suburban Chicago house featured in Ferris Bueller's day off that has been listed for sale at $2,300,000, we're going to flip you over to Mister Big Time who has all the 411 anyone might want on the stunning property that is in serious need of a complete restoration/redo.

4.
In late February of 2009, Your Mama discussed the 21 terlit Bel Air behemoth that noted philanthropist and art patron Iris Cantor heaved onto the market with a toe curling asking price of $53,000,000. Turns out the ladeee has also listed a New York City penthouse (floor plan below) with an asking price of $11,900,000.
Missus Cantor, for those who do not know, is the wildly rich widow of Bernie Cantor, the founder of the financial services firm Cantor Fitzgerald. Some of the children will recognize the Cantor (Fitzgerald) name as the company that suffered devastating human losses on 9/11 due to their location on the 101st-105th floors of One World Trade Center. Others will recognize the Cantor name from one of New York City's greatest outdoor treasures, the soo-blime Iris and B. Gerald Cantor Roof Garden at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Anyhoo, as pointed out by Mister Abelson at the NY Observer, the real story isn't that The Widda Cantor listed the 3,906 square foot co-operative at 110 Central Park South. Oh no. The juicy news is that she bought the 4 bedroom and 4.5 bathroom spread in May of 2006 for "about $15,000,000" and, as mentioned above, currently has it on the market at $11,900,000. Missus. Cantor's wizened real estate agent told Mister Abelson that Mrs. Cantor never occupied the 24th floor apartment that carries colossal monthly maintenance of $13,500.

Listing information on StreetEasy shows that Mrs. Cantor listed the 4-terrace aerie in May of 2008 with an asking price of $16,000,000. Four months later the price was hacked to $14,000,000 and just last week she had a go at the asking price again, chopping off $2,100,000 bringing the current number to $11,900,000 which is somewhere around $3,000,000 less than she paid for the place. Less!

Now surely Missus Cantor can afford to lose three million clams without having to go on the food stamps. However, Your Mama does not care how rich a person may be, it still hurts like the dickens to lose three million smackers on an ill-timed real estate purchase.

P.S. Iffin eleven and some million isn't in your budget but you still want to live up in 110 Central Park South, listing information indicates that Missus Cantor would also be willing to lease the apartment at $35,000 per month.

5.
We hear from Babbling Babette that American Idol judge and (former?) pill popper Paula Abdul is house hunting. In Tarzana, CA. It is Your Mama's understanding that she made a three million dollar offer on a house in the guard gated Mulholland Park community which was not accepted. Ugh. Yawn. Whaaaat?

6.
We also hear from a gentleman we'll call Famous Freddie that word on New York City's West 12th Street is that Scientolofreak Tom Cruise and his baby maker Katie Cruise bought a mid-block townhouse that records reveal recently sold for $15,075,000. Now children, Your Mama has zero confirmation about whether there is any truth to this real estate tale so do not go speaking on this like it's gospel. It's just rumor and gossip at this point. Besides, we always took Mister Cruise as the full-service doorman building type of guy rather than a townhouse sort of fella if only because a townhouse would put him at the mercy of doorbell ditchers and fervent fans who might think it's cute to stand out front of the building flashing their naughty bits and hollering about how much they loved Top Gun.

7.
And lastly, Your Mama received a very lovely and friendly email from a ladee named Lynne Langdon who is the listing agent (and owner) of a house in the Hollywood Hills we discussed earlier this week. She kindly asked that we correct a error regarding the listing information indicating the house is "celebrity owned." See kids, we thought the celebrity being referred to was Miz Langdon, who was indeed a bit of a star in China as it turns out. However, the celebrity Miz Langdon was referring to in the listing, she says, is her huzband, a celebrity photographer named Harry Langdon who may not be much of a household name himself but has snapped photographs of and head short for dozens of famous folks including Aretha Franklin, Tyra-nosaurus Banks, Governator Arnold Schwarzenegger, Ryan Seacrest and Mister Missy Elliot, Halle Berry and Christina Applegate.

Andry Rajoelina Event Organizer yang menjadi Presiden Madagaskar

Andry Nirina Rajoelina (lahir 1975) adalah pemimpin perlawanan terbuka terhadap presiden terguling Madagaskar, Marc Ravalomanana, dan mantan walikota Antananarivo (Desember 2007 - Februari 2009), ibukota negara itu. Sebelum memasuki kancah perpolitikan, ia dikenal sebagai disc jockey dan event organizer (EO).
Selepas sekolah menengah, Andry Rajoelina bekerja sebagai EO untuk berbagai kegiatan lapangan dan konser. Hal ini dilakukannya hingga tahun 2000. Ia juga memiliki perusahaan Injet yang menangani periklanan dan percetakan digital, sebagai yang pertama di Madagaskar. Selanjutnya, ia juga mendirikan stasiun radio dan televisi VIVA.

Karir politik
Sebagai ketua gerakan Tanora malaGasy Vonona (TGV, "Pemuda Malagasi Tangguh"), Andry Rajoelina mencalonkan diri menjadi walikota ibukota negara. Meskipun harus menghadapi lawan yang merupakan walikota menjabat dan didukung oleh presiden Ravalomanana, Rajoelina terpilih sebagai walikota tanggal 12 Desember 2007 dengan memperoleh 63.3% suara.
Tugas berat pertamanya adalah mengatasi hutang kota yang bertumpuk. Namun tantangan politik beratnya adalah penentangan yang muncul dari kubu pemerintah pusat.

Perseteruan dengan Presiden Ravalomanana
Sejak terpilih sebagai walikota, ia menjadi tokoh vokal yang kritis terhadap kepemimpinan Ravalomanana. Pada tanggal 13 Desember 2008 Pemerintah menutup stasiun VIVA. Keputusan ini menyusul disiarkannya wawancara dengan mantan kepala negara, Didier Ratsiraka, yang dinilai Pemerintah "akan mengganggu kedamaian dan keamanan".
Pada tanggal 31 Januari 2009, Rajoelina mengumumkan secara sepihak pada suatu rapat umum bahwa dirinya adalah pemimpin Republik Malagasi, "Karena presiden dan pemerintah tidak melakukan tugasnya, saya dengan ini menyatakan bahwa saya akan menyelenggarakan semua urusan kepemerintahan sejak sekarang." Ditambahkannya, ia akan mengirim surat kepada Parlemen untuk meminta agar Ravalomanana mengundurkan diri. Akibat tindakannya, Rajoelina diberhentikan sebagai walikota pada tanggal 3 Februari 2009 dan Guy Randrianarisoa ditunjuk untuk menggantikannya sebagai ketua dewan khusus pemerintahan kota. Rajoelina menafikan pemberhentian ini dan pada hari berikutnya ia menunjuk penggantinya sendiri, Michele Ratsivalaka.

Presiden Madagaskar
Akibat berbagai demonstrasi massa yang digerakkan Rajoelina dan juga dukungan militer terhadapnya, Presiden Ravalomanana menyerahkan kekuasaan ke tangan militer pada tanggal 17 Maret 2009. Pihak militer kemudian menyerahkan kekuasaan ke tangan Rajoelina. Penentangan muncul dari Uni Afrika, yang menilai penyerahan kekuasaan kepada Rajoelina adalah ilegal dan inkonstitusional. Uni Eropa juga menyatakan bahwa Rajoelina tidak sah menduduki posisi kepresidenan meskipun Mahkamah Konstitusi Madagaskar telah mengesahkan kedudukannya pada tanggal 18 Maret 2009

SPG Layanan Operator Telekomunikasi

SPG Umbrella - Sales Promotion Girl (SPG) Layanan Operator : SPG Telkom, SPG Telkomsel, SPG Indosat, SPG Tri, SPG Smart, SPG Ceria, dll

UPDATE: 820 Fifth Avenue

A couple of short weeks ago, Your Mama gave a thorough run down on all the ridiculously rich residents of 820 Fifth Avenue, one of New York City's most exclusive apartment houses where the famously fussy and fearsome board has been known to reject purchase applications of big name and big money buyers like mono-monikered stitch bitch Valentino, bald billionaire Ron Perelman, casino tycoon Steve Wynn, oil heir Freddie Koch and pharmaceutical heiress Libbet Johnson who was reportedly cleared to purchase one apartment but nixed when she inquired about buying both the fourth and the fifth floors in order to create a monumentally massive duplex situation.

In our little discussion, Your Mama discussed the 4th floor spread currently owned by real estate magnate Ara Hovnanian and his abstract ar-teest wifey Rachel. According to New York City real estate tattler Max Abelson at the NY Observer, the Hovnanians recently and quietly floated their full floor apartment on the market with a heart stopping asking price of $36,000,000.

Shortly after Mister Abelson let the Hovnanian real estate cat out of the bag, Miss Beeswax whispered to Your Mama that the Hovnanians had already secured a contract to sell the apartment to an unknown buyer and all that remained to seal the deal was for the wannabe resident of 820 to pass muster with the iron-fisted board and more specifically with the 3rd floor resident, high society doyenne Jayne Wrightsman who is rumored to hold the keys of the Golden Kingdom at 820 even though she does not technically sit on the board.

This week, Mister Abelson came right out and identified the wannabe resident of 820 as 40-something year old real estate wunderkind Jeff Blau and his nutrition nut wifey Lisa. Mister Blau, the head honcho at the real estate juggernaut Related Companies, reportedly offered thirty one million smackers for the Hovnanian apartment but, according to one of Mister Abelson's seemingly very well placed sources, before Mister Blau could write that big check he received word from the board that "it would not be appropriate to go forward with the application." Oh, ouch. The market may be down but apparently the boards of New York's most difficult to access buildings are going to maintain a stiff upper lip and adhere to their stringent (and arcane) standards for gaining entry. It's a weird world ain't it children?

Before anyone throws a real estate pity party for Mister and Missus Blau remember that just last year the deep pocketed pair forked over $21,000,000 for Scott Bommer's full floor apartment at tony 1040 Fifth Avenue which is, of course, the same building Jackie-O called home for about a thousand years before her death.

UPDATE: Sheree Whitfield

Listen puppies, y'all know Your Mama does not like to dance on the real estate grave of anybody. However, sometimes we just can't help it. Egotastic Atlanta Housewife Sheree Whitfield presented herself as an arrogant, selfish and myopic ladee who play-acted that she was richer, more stylish and possessed more class than all the other ladees on The Real Housewives of Atlanta. Pleeze. It wasn't just the damn editing by Bravo's cunning and crafty editors that made Miz She By Sheree look like a damn fool, beehawtcha didn't display an ounce of humility on The Real Housewives of Atlanta reunion show neither and now, Miss High and Mighty result has been pushed off her pedestal.

First there were mad rumors hurtling down the gossip grapevine that she was bouncing checks for cakes and private investigators. Then, as Your Mama discussed in late December of 2008, egotastic Atlanta Housewife Miz She By Sheree Whitfield, listed her 8,903 square foot Sandy Springs, GA mansion with an asking price of $2,850,000.

The high price (and the bad juju Miz She By Sheree left behind) kept buyers away and eventually the asking price dipped to around $2,400,000 before it was ripped off the market and seized by the bank in foreclosure. That's right children, Miz She By Sheree's real estate pride and joy was taken by the bank. As we understand, Miz She By Sheree was actually booted from the Sandy Springs crib by her ex-huzband who was awarded the house in the dee-vorce. So technically, it was Mister Whitfield who allowed the house to go into foreclosure. This seems an odd choice for a rich man, but one probably designed to stick a stake into the heart of his ex-wife at the expense and comfort of his children.

Anyhoo, soon the bank-owned property on Long Island Drive in Suburban Atlanta was re-listed with an asking price of just $959,000. After only 9 days on the market, the house went to contract and sold for what listing information shows was $1,100,000. The children will note that Miz She By Sheree (or somebody) took the kitchen appliances when the premises were vacated.

Do we even want to know where Miz Thing has landed her 747 of an ego? We're not sure our weak heart could handle the humiliation by proxy, but wouldn't it just be dee-lishus if Miz She By Sheree was shacked up in NeNe's basement? Oh lawhd, now that would be some damn fine poetic justice.

Kirsten Dunst Lists Nichols Canyon Crib

SELLER: Kirsten Dunst
LOCATION: Nichols Canyon Road, Los Angeles, CA
PRICE: $1,700,000
SIZE: 2,062 square feet, 3 bedrooms 2.5 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: An inviting Mid-Century home awaits atop the much desired Nichols Canyon area of the Hollywood Hills. Behind massive gates and a state of the art security system sits a home updated by Brian Murphy and designed by Hallworth Designs. This celebrity retreat comes complete with 3 bedrooms and 2.5 baths. The living room hints at just a few of the luxuries of this home with heated floors, a pitched ceiling and exposed beams. Curl up with a book in front of the fireplace in the reading nook adjacent

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: This morning, while swilling sugared up coffee and waiting for our afternoon appointment to roll around, we absent mindedly perused all the new listings around the dog friendly Runyan Canyon area–where Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter often walk our long bodied bitches Linda and Beverly–and came across a modest if not cheap Nichols Canyon property listed at $1,700,000 that we immediately identified as being owned by actress Kristen Dunst who, for some reason, Your Mama likes to call Little Miss Kiki.

Along with her long and impressive list of film credits (The Virgin Suicides, Bring It On, Mona Lisa Smile, Marie Antoinette and, of course the Spider-Man franchise), Little Miss Kiki also has a long and impressive list of hook-ups, romantic liaisons and relationships with high profile males including but not limited to Drew Barrymore's on and off again boytoy Justin Long, actors Josh Hartnett, Ryan Gosling, Orlando Bloom, Andy Samberg, Zach Braff and Tobey Maguire, rock stars Johnny Borrell , Fabrizio Moretti and Adam Levine. But then again, what single Hollywood acktress of note hasn't Mister Levine laid?

Anyoo, property records show that Miss Dunst purchased her Nichols Canyon Road residence in December of 2003 for $1,250,000. This was back when Little Miss Kiki was paired up with up an up and coming superstar named Jake Gyllenhaal, who reportedly lived in sin with out Little Miss Kiki in this very house.

Listing information and property records indicate the modest house measures 2,062 square feet with 3 bedroom and 2.5 bathroom. The house hides behind solidly impressive gates and up a curving driveway to a small motor court with a small front facing two car garage where Little Miss Kiki and her current male companion–whomever that may be–can enter and exit without being snapped by the paps. Listing information also reveals the property is protected by a state of the art security system so any of you idiots who think it might be cute to go ringing up on Little Miss Kiki's bell should expect to be electrocuted, sprayed with mace, hosed down with boiling water and/or even worse.

For a small house, the the front entrance hall is large and is separated from the sunken formal living room by a pretty pair of capiz shell curtains painstakingly made by the lightening quick hands of a gal named Gwen who happens to be one of Your Mama's good pals back in the En-Why-Cee. The living room appears to have heated terrazzo floors, a peaked and beamed ceiling painted an airy white, navy walls (which sounds awful but does not look nearly as horrid as we might imagine), and a paned sliding glass door that opens to a large multi-level entertainment deck sitting in the tree tops at the front of the property.

The dining room sports glossy white floors, an even more shiny dining room table surrounded six dining room chairs and two wing back chairs on the ends, and the rear wall has been fitted with custom cabintery which makes for perfect storage for things like linens, board games and bongs. We're not saying Little Miss Kiki stores her bongs there, we're just saying that if she did have bongs to store, this would be an excellent spot for them.

The glossy white floors continue into the all stainless steel and marble kitchen which already has our imperious house gurl Svetlana turning cartwheels with conniption and looks nice if you don't have small children with filthy hands or canines with wet noses. A sky lit and all white breakfast area would feel a little bit surgical suite if it were not for the large teak table and chairs that provide a welcome relief to all the blinding stainless steel, glistening white floors and sleek white cabinetry.

In the family room, an entire wall has been custom fitted with gorgeous wood cabinetry that hides all the electronics and one of the Little Miss Kiki's many wing back chairs sits in the corner by the paned slider that opens to the front deck.

The high-gloss and slippery looking white wood floor is continued into the master bedroom where Little Miss Kiki and her team of nice gay decorators have kept in clean with just an over-sized upholstered headboard, heavy ivory curtains with a navy blue palm tree patten and another of wing back chair from Little Miss Kiki's collection. A secluded court yard area off the master bedroom has a patch of lawn for and an in ground spa for romantical evenings with whatever man-friend Little Miss Kiki currently fancies.

Property records and previous reports indicate that Miss Dunst will go far from homeless once someone snatched up her Nichols Canyon hideaway. In 2001 Miss Dunst purchased a 4,333 square foot house on Toluca Lake Avenue which we believe is occupied by her family. On the east coast, records show that in July of 2007 she forked over three million Spider Man dollars for an 8th floor co-operative crib in the same Canal Street building where rock star Michael Stipe forked over $5,750,000 for Casey Affleck's 8th floor unit in January of 2007.

David Niven Jr. Lists Bird Street Nest

SELLER: David Niven Jr.
LOCATION: Blue Jay Way, Los Angeles, CA
PRICE: $5,750,000
SIZE: 4,808 square feet, 6 bedrooms, 7 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: Extraordinary architectural villa in estate section of the Sunset Strip. Fabulous family room / kitchen ideal for the gourmet chef. Dramatic living room opens to pool & rose garden w/ tree top views & amazing outdoor entertainment pool area. Features include: sky lights, high ceilings, crown molding, hardwood, terrazzo & tile flooring. Library, spacious master suite w/ dble bath & closets plus 5 bedrooms each w/ bath. Pure style sophistication & privacy.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Sometime over the long Memorial Day weekend, as we sat on the sofa hooked up to an IV drip dropping a steady stream of gin and tonic directly into Your Mama's veins while watching the opening rounds of the French Open, we received a covert communique from Our Fairy Godmother in the Sunset Strip who informed us that David Niven Jr. listed his house on Blue Jay Way with an impressively optimistic asking price of $5,750,000.

Mister Niven Junior's famous father is, as any moe-ron could figure out, the Oscar winning, pencil 'stached Tinseltown legend David Niven. Junior, who was born in England and whose name appears in the Peerage thanks to his mother's semi-royal bloodline, went on to produce a few films (The Girl with the Hungry Eyes, Psycho Cop Returns, Blue Flame), work as an entertainment executive and promote philanthropic causes such as Recording Artists, Actors & Athletes Against Drunk Driving.

Property records show that Mister Niven Jr. purchased his Bird Street nest in November of 1983 for $1,200,000, which was a lot of damn money for a house back in 1983. Records filed with the County of Los Angeles show the "L" shaped "villa" measures in at 4,808 square feet and listing information indicates there are 6 bedrooms and 7 bathrooms including a master suite with dual baths and dressing closets.

Located just above the Sunset Strip and all those celeb friendly outdoor eateries along Sunset Boo-lay-vard in the Sunset Plaza, the in need of an update residence will appeal to all those Ed Hardy wearing Hollywood "producer" sorts who spend a lot of time in tight black jeans and hanging out at the Sky Bar hoping to snag a too tan wannabe starlet with 5-inch Lucite heels, fake chee-chees, and naive dreams of seeing her face on the silver screen.

The children are going to skewer Your Mama for saying this but, here it goes anyway...Although the rose colored wallpaper is heinous, the parquet floors are tired, the built-in shelves bizarrely off-center, and the fireplace mantel far too diminutive for a room of this scale, there is–if you'll look closely–a kind of decorative sophistication to the large living room where all that rose colored, traditionally shaped and upholstered furniture is played against the Lucite and glass coffee tables. We know we're being uncharacteristically charitable, but once upon a time, before all the Los Angeles property flippers started trying to make every house look like a freaking Armani furniture showroom, this kind of mix and match day-core was considered to be quite chic. Or maybe all that gin has finally turned Your Mama's mind into baby food.

Anyhoo, the wood floored library has been painted a visually uncomfortable and not particularly dignified shade of royal blue and has large floor to ceiling windows, built in bookcases topped with a large, carved shell detail and an obscene beige colored leather sofa that, fortunately, will be removed once the property is sold. In the dining room, china cabinets with the same sea-shell detail as seen in the library flank sliding doors to the rear terrace. Sliding doors? For reals? Sliding doors? Like this is some sort of tract house in Bakersfield? Pleeze.

Anyhoo, the open plan kitchen, breakfast and family rooms have been done over and include white, glass fronted cabinets that rather disconcertingly do not reach the ceiling, sand colored granite counter tops, a beige tile floor, a mac-daddy Viking range that costs as much as a damn Kia and a large work island under a gigantic pyramid shaped skylight which we can only hope has some sort of UV deflecting coating lest Chef be fried up like a bug under a magnifying glass.

The house wraps around a courtyard where a long rectangular pool is surrounded by wide entertainment terraces perfect for cocktail parties, nood sunbathing and the riding of Big Wheels by any resident tots.

According to bits and pieces we read on the interweb, Mister Niven Jr. lives primarily in the UK. And to be honest puppies, given that bit of information, this Bird Street residence could very easily be occupied by someone other than Mister Niven Jr., someone like, say, Barbara Niven, otherwise known as ex-Mrs. Niven Jr. But we don't know because, truthfully children, Your Mama don't know nuthin' from nuthin.

UPDATE: Nicole Kidman

Thanks to a number of cobbers Down Under, Your Mama has learned that Australian actress Nicole Kidman Cruise Urban has finally sold her Darling Point digs which she quietly listed in the spring of 2008 with a rumored asking price of $20,000,000 (AUS). Recent reports identified the new owner of the Yarranabbé Road property overlooking sensational Sydney Harbor as an Australian born, Monaco based former stockbroker who coughed up $13,200,000 (AUS)–or $10,337,052 US bucks at today's rates–for the 3 story and 4 bedroom villa that is reported to measure a whopping 1,068 square meters, a number or trusty currency conversion thingamabob reveals is around 11,500 square feet.

Miz Kidman, who reportedly sold off the villa because there was very little outdoor space for baby Urban, has not given up her Aussie real estate roots altogether. Sometime in the summer of 2008, porcelain skinned and puffy lipped Mis Kidman and her country music crooning huzband Keith Urban splashed out around $6,500,000 for a 110 acre spread called Bunya Hill in the Southern Highland area about 1.5 hours outside Sydney.

Back in the United States, Miz Kidman and Mister Urban own a couple of properties in the Nashville, TN area including a big house in a gated suburban Nashville community for which they dumped $3,470,000 in April of 2008 so they would have a place to shack up while building new digs on a 36 acre farm in nearby Franklin, TN.

Also in the summer of 2008, Mrs. Tall and Mister Short forked over $4,700,000 for a contemporary 5 bedroom house in the same Beverly Hills Post Office neighborhood that Jessica Simpson, music maverick Guy Oseary, tee-vee titan Tom Freston, and bling queen Kimora Lee Simmons own homes.

For a number of years, Miz Kidman apartment hopped around Manhattan luxury rental apartments (including a large unit in the same Chelsea building Your Mama and the Dr. Cooter once called home), but she's long owned a glassy condo at one of the Richard Meier designed towers on the West Side Highway which we hear through the nice gay decorator's gossip grapevine is getting a little touch up to the day-core.

photo: Fiona-Lee Quimby for Sydney Morning Herald

Lynne Langdon Is Looking for a Commission

SELLER: Lynne Langdon
LOCATION: Franklin Avenue, Los Angeles, CA
PRICE: $1,395,000
SIZE: 1,338 square feet, 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms
DESCRIPTION: MOTIVATED SELLER. Celebrity owned. Million dollar views. Hip, contemporary, inspiring home, an entertainer's dream. In the heart of the action. Nice parking spaces, too! Room for a pool, and additional rooms.

YOUR MAMAS NOTES: Only in Tinseltown would a virtually unknown ack-tress/producer turned real estate agent list her own house above the Sunset Strip with an asking price of $1,395,000 and then market the property as "celebrity owned," which is exactly what a ladee named Lynne Langdon has done. Now children, seriously, what is not to love about that?**

According to our brief and admittedly unscientific spin through the interweb we discovered that Miz Langdon was once upon a time a bit of a star in China which is why she speaks conversational Mandarin Chinese. She was once rumored to have been involved with action movie stud Jean Claude van Damme and has had a number of bit parts in programs like Desperate Housewives, That 80s Show and The Guardian. She is also, according to her re-zoo-may, the writer, producer, director and co-star of a film called Weather Girls which features a bunch of other actors and actresses we've never heard of before.

Property records show Miz Langdon paid $595,000 when she purchased the 2 bedroom and 2 bathroom hillside house on Franklin Avenue in August of 2001. A gate opens from the street into a small courtyard where Miz Langdon has place a couple of wicker chaise lounges. But for the difficult to access land below the back of the house, this pocket-sized courtyard would appear to be the only easily accessible outdoor space, which is a real pity because it would be awfully nice to have a deck run along the rear of the house where Your Mama could lay about with a pitcher of gin and tonics and watch the lights of Los Angeles flicker on as the day turns to night.

The glassy open plan interior spaces have very light wood floors, white walls and all sorts of white, chrome and glass furniture that looks like it was shipped in from the 1980s. The kitchen has white-washed wood cabinetry, stainless steel appliances and an unholy combination of granite and tile counter tops and back splashes. The Master bedroom has very pale beige wall to wall carpeting and a beige tiled bathroom with double sinks and a large soaking tub.

Listing information indicates there is room for a pool and since Miz Langdon the listing agent owns the property we're going to taker her word for it. Listing information also shows Miz Langdon is motivated so any of the children with a desire to live in the hills above the Sunset Strip should get on the horn with Miz Langdon and see how low she will go.

**See #8 here for a bit of a correction regarding this celebrity owned issue.

Starless Trek

"Tallulah, my darling, where have you been? It's been a whole month since you last posted on your flog. How can we live our lives without your guidance?" I hear you all out there sobbing, my darlings. Please, keep it down. I can't hear myself drink.

I've been in Brazil, covering Survivor: Tocantins for The Huffington Post. You can read my chronicle of the Tocantins Adventure at these links:

Survivor: Tocantins. "Aarf," Said Sandy.

The Survivor Tocantins Diet: Cut Out Candy

Survivor Tocantins: War is Heck; Survivor is Hell!

Survivor Tocantins: Sandy Wastes

Survivor: Tocantins: Tooth or Consequences.

Survivor Tocantins: Spooning

Survivor Tocantins: Idol Brains are the Devil's Playground.

Survivor Tocantins: Much Ado, in re: Nil

Survivor Tocantins: Harry Potter and the Dunghole of Tocantins.

Survivor Tocantins: NOT About Susan Boyle!

Survivor Tocantins: Lies and Whispers

Survivor Tocantins: The Loved One

Survivor Tocantins: Puff's Revenge

Survivor Tocantins: Breakfast at Tocantins.

So don't complain. Altogether they come to about 60,000 words, so it's like a whole book about one dopey TV show.

The post from Brazil presented a challenge since, when I arrived, there wasn't anybody there. The shows had all been shot months ago, and everyone had long since gone home. In fact, everyone else was in Manhattan, at David Letterman's theater, doing the live reunion show, I was in Tocantins, sitting all alone in the abandoned Tribal Council set.

I don't understand how this happened. I personally phoned the production offices of Mark Burnett, who produces Survivor, and explained that I was Tallulah Morehead, the Nearly-Living legend, that I wrote the Survivor recaps for The Huffington Post, and that I would like tickets to the live finale show to report on it in person.

The person on the phone, who said her name was Kayla, said yes, they all knew who I was, and all read my write-ups of their shows, and they would be pleased to send me tickets to the finale. The very next day a messenger arrived with my ticket to the live finale in Tocantins, including a plane ticket (one-way; an inconvenience), a discount coupon for the Tocantins Motel 6 (single occupancy. I left Little Dougie in Los Angeles. You can't really trust him around Brazilian men anyway.), and a note signed by "Jeff Probst." Given that the production company itself made all the arrangements for my trip, it seemed odd that they would have gotten my destination wrong by tens of thousands of miles. And then, it turned out the show isn't even broadcast in Tocantins. I had to watch the broadcast on the one-inch square screen of my cab driver's cell-phone Internet link-up. Then I had to phone Dougie back in California, to dictate that last column.

Oh, Little Dougie had said something to me before I left for the airport, about the show having been shot months ago, but I assumed that Tocantins was like that Island on LOST, and was surrounded by a time ring which displaced you in time when you flew in.

As it happened, when Frank Lapidus was flying me out of Tocantins International Terminal (They stamp "TIT" on your tickets and luggage), there was a bright flash of light and a weird sound effect, and suddenly, instead of rolling down that hand-laid-rock landing strip, I suddenly found myself on a remote beach, sipping a martini with Jacob and his friend in the sensible black outfit. There I was, lying in the shadow of an enormous statue of my old friend, the evil Egyptian god Set. I found the fact that the statue had four toes disturbing. When I knew him, Set only had three toes.

Jacob saw me looming and immediately went to work on his loom. That man is a tapestry-making madman! Jacob's friend was grumbling about finding "the loophole." I yelled out, "Hey Essau, how about slipping through my loophole?" But then - Zip! - I found myself lying next to Juliette at the bottom of yet another slimy hole (SSDH), and Juliette was slamming her hand down on a DVD of Viva Laughlin. "Darling," I said, "that starred my future-ex-husband Huge Jackman. How bad can it be?"

"Did you see Australia?" Juliette asked.

"I did." I replied.

"This is even worse." Juilette sobbed.

"Point taken," I said, "Pound away. Maybe we can change the future, and Australia will never be made."

Then somewhere someone gave The Island donkey wheel a shove and I was blasted through white light into the base of Set's statue. Adam Lambert lay dead on the floor in front of Ben Linus, holding a bloody knife. Beside him Locke spoke with Kris Allen's voice, saying, "Loophole, schmoophole, American tweens like their boys sexually unthreatening."

Then there was another bright light, and I was transferred into an alternate future where I was Mrs. Huge Jackman, and we were visiting Disneyland when we were attacked by The Giant Rat of Sumatra

I gave "Mickey" a Tallulah Turban, and this distracted him long enough to allow me to get onto the best ride in the park, which is located inside Huge's pants. Fortunately, I had a Fastpass for it.

Of course Little Dougie, who materializes beside me anytime I go to Disneyland, is always a problem around Huge. His infatuation runs deep. He was saying idiotic things to Huge like, "You know, as long as Gay Marriage remains illegal in California, which may be for another week yet, you could gay marry me without your being technically a bigamist." I had to send him over to stand in the corner by the Dumbo ride. It's a punishment for him, because no hot men ever ride Dumbo.

Just as I was settling into my work in Huge's crotch, a great Romulan spaceship came shooting out of a rip in the Eternal Time-Space Continuum (You have to be careful never to snag the Eternal Time-Space Continuum on nails or splinters, as it gets terrible runs), and killed Captain Kirk's father, thus saving Kirk from growing up to be William Shatner, and spreading overacting throughout The Galaxy, but creating a weird alternate-present, in which Spock was played by Liza Minnelli. It turned out that the horrible catastrophe that caused the Planet Vulcan to implode was Liza telling the Vulcan High Council that marrying David Gest was logical.

Well by now I was Lost. Brazil is weird.


By the time I returned to Morehead Heights, I didn't know what alternate present I was in, I decided to try and see if The Universe I was in was making any sense. I switched on the TV to TCM, a channel where I always feel comfortable, as not only do they run only old movies, but TCM are my initials. (Tallulah Clytemnestra Morehead.)

They were running a movie I had never seen before, the ultra-hilarious, right-wing objectivist claptrap, the film of Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, starring Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal, as glamorous, sexy Fascists, I mean an architect and his best gal.

I'm afraid I haven't set the Time-Space Continuum right yet. This can't be Normal Reality, because this movie is the most ridiculous piece of twaddle I have ever sat through.


Enormously well-hung Gary Cooper plays Howard Roarke, the most brilliant, unpopular, and egotistical architect in the world. The movie is all about how people are always trying to get Howard Roarke to design buildings just like the same ones everyone else designs, but Howard is too great to listen to anyone, even his clients. People are always telling him when he designs something that is too outré, in other words, rectangular glass and steel structures that look exactly like every souless office building clogging the downtowns of every major city in the world, the very style that Jacques Tati spent his great movie Playtime attacking, that his work is too unpopular and controversial. "We can't take a chance," they always say to him, as though gambling their lives on an office tower or a block of flats.


The villain of the story is a newspaper architectural critic, who wields tremendous public power. He writes a column of architectural criticism, and his slightest word can bring the city to a halt. What planet is this? When the publisher fires the architectural critic, the staff walks out in support of the critic, and the paper buckles under to the critic, and the publisher shoots himself. Star Trek was more realistic.

Howard does not consider architecture to be a collaborative art. Rather, it's the solitary work of a lone artist, toiling alone in an attic somewhere. Making even the tiniest change in any of his designs is intolerable to Roarke.

He means it. When a block of flats he designed are built while he is on a vacation with Patricia Neal, with teensy changes made at the orders of the people paying for it to be built, Roarke dynamites it. He stands trial for blowing up this building he didn't own, in the middle of Manhattan, without even a blasting permit. It's a wildly illegal, irresponsible, dangerous, negligent act of overwhelming egotism, an SMD: a snit of mass destruction.

He's found innocent, and the jury and the whole courtroom erupts into applause at this horrific miscarriage of justice. He has admitted committing the crime on the stand. His defense was that he has better taste than the pigs who paid for it, so he should be able to blow it up. The jury buys this idiocy. The movie paints him as a hero.

The first clue that Howard Roarke has something weirdly wrong with him comes early on. He's going out of business. A friend offers him a loan, and he refuses it. Okay. He has too much pride to take help. But he says, "I never ask for nor give help."

What? He never "gives help"? He never helps anyone?

Yup. That's exactly what he means. He's anti-helping his fellow man. In his summation, six minutes of Gary Cooper giving a completely unhinged turgid speech, he actually says, "Mankind is perishing in a sea of selflessness."

Whatever finishes off mankind, it won't be an excess of selflessness. The movie is pro-selfishness and egoism (which is just egotism misspelled), and anti-altruism. It preaches, at length and in a superior tone, that Altruism is Bad. And it means it.

The "love" story subplot is a scream. Patricia Neal is an architect's daughter who hates anything that makes her happy, because her taste is too supurb, and the masses with their bad taste, will destroy anything she likes, so she deliberately throws out any stuff she has that she likes (We first meet her dropping a lovely nude statue down an airshaft), and she refuses to marry the man she loves, and instead marries a man she finds creepy, to avoid being happy, so it can't be taken from her. She'd rather be miserable, than be happy, and risk being made miserable by the masses. If you find any sense in that, let me know.

So she's vacationing in a lovely home that adjoins a marble quarry where they dynamite rock all day, every day. Let me repeat this: she is intentionally vacationing in a house next door to a site that is blasting rocks with dynamite all day long, every day. You can't get more relaxing than that.


Her idea of sight-seeing is riding her horse to the quarry and then wandering around, drooling over the hunky, muscular workmen driving pickaxes into walls of granite. And her favorite workman is Howard Roarke, who is working there after driving himself out of business with his too-high standards of taste. She first sees him holding a jackhammer, drilling away into into solid rock. She is turned on by the ever-so-subtle sexual implication of his drilling into rock with a jackhammer.

Now she can't get him out of her mind. She rides around on her horse, imagining Howard and his drill.

So she slams a fireiron into the marble hearth in her bedroom and hires Howard to come in, inspect her damage, and hammer her a new sheet of rock.

At one point she rides up to him and slashes him across the face with a riding crop, which makes him grin, and the unforgettable final shot of the film is her riding up in an outdoor elevator to where he is standing, on top of his not-yet-finished "Tallest building in the world." The shot tracks in on his crotch as he stands astride his masterpiece, the world's-biggest-phallic symbol.


The movie was written by the novelist-nutball, Russian-American, writer-philosopher Ayn Rand. She promoted a form of highly-anti-communist philosophy called "Objectivism," probably because it is so objectionable.


As a virulent anti-Commie, she believed that ownership and rights of property were sacrosant, although when Howard Roarke, her Ideal Man, blows up other people's property, it's a righteous act, not a violation of other people's rights of property. She's a hypocrite.


Ayn wrote every word of dialogue, and forbade a word of it to be changed. She was the Howard Roarke of screenwriters. What she was not was a good writer of dialogue, none of which sounds like human speech, and all of which sounds like speechifying.

Ayn insisted that Gary Cooper read every damn word of her summation speech, which is utterly nuts from beginning to end. Jack Warner, no slouch in the anti-Commie world himself, ended up cutting it down a little. It's still six minutes of Gary Cooper standing in one place, making a completely insane-yet-boring speech, in praise of selfishness, condemming altruism, and stating that there are only two types of humans: "Creators" and "Parasites." That's it. No shades of gray. No middle-management.


When Ayn learned that some slight cuts had been made to her speech, she squawked and hollered, but she did not blow up Warner Brothers, nor set fire to the negative and all prints, nor even beat Jack Warner into paste with a poker, which makes her a raging hypocrite. It's what Howard Roarke would have done. It's what Bette Davis would have done.


Ayn is in a small vogue right now (very small, as the country is becoming far less happy with rightwing nutballs), because her magnum opus, Atlas Shrugged, a novel that makes The Lord of the Rings seem like a speedy short story, is celebrating its fiftieth anniversary just now. This means that the people who began reading it the day it came out, are nearly through it by now, those that haven't hanged themselves.


Ayn believed in a woman looking up to The Ideal Man, and Howard Roarke is Him. (And Ayn claimed she wrote it for Gary Cooper, so he's her sexual ideal as well.) Now Dougie has had artistic differences with folks from time to time, and even disliked how his work was changed by others, but he has yet to blow anything up.


Who is the bigger stud?

And who is the more feminine and better writeress?

Ayn darling, for a woman who wants strong muscular men to drill her like a jackhammer, why have you gone to so much trouble to look like a Bloomsbury literary Lesbian? You look like a young Rosa Klebb.


Life is too short to spend any of it reading the insane horrors which are the writings of Ayn Rand. As for Dougie and I, we're going back to Disneyland, to wait for the alternate reality to return where I'm Mrs. Huge Jackman. Juliette, give Jughead another good whack!

Cheers darlings.