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    Red Carpet Politics is the premiere place where celebrities and politics meet and mingle. Our star correspondents work the red carpet each day to report breaking political and legal news from the world of entertainment. We also feature fictional interviews with a celebrity du jour . Other than what our team of correspondents may believe in their warped little minds, these interviews have no basis whatsoever in reality, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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    Don't let her age fool you. Mona "Mone" Quivers is a veteran ace reporter who knows how to dig and dish. Whether it's the Oscars or another movie premiere, Mone is there, front and center, in their face, microphone in hand, extracting all the juicy tidbits you want to know.

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    If looks could kill, Willy's would. Luckily, this baby-faced boy next door has nothing more on his mind than charming the pants off powerhouse celebs. When Willy bats those baby blues, stars are powerless to resist his wily charms. That's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, we like it and Willy Smush just fine.


    Although relatively new, Gazelle Snowflake already works the interview scene like a pro. Her understated charm and sex appeal can turn big name stars into putty at the flick of a microphone. Before they realize what they're up against, they've gone and spilled another exclusive. Keep working that mojo, Gazelle!


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Sad Saga of O.J. Simpson and Other True Confessions

O.J. Simpson is back in the news, this time for something really bizarre, if that’s even possible. About three weeks prior to the alleged armed robbery that landed him in jail, the FBI blew off warnings about the self-organized sting operation from “O.G.loved One” and his co-conspirator, Thomas Riccio, refusing to take part in another “weird celebrity case.” According to the Jordan Falls News,

|FBI spokeswoman Laura Eimiller said Riccio did not indicate a crime
|would be committed.

So, let me get this straight. The FBI plopped a gob of goo on the laps of Nevada authorities because the idiots who orchestrated this reality TV heist neglected to inform the feds about possible use of force? How exactly did the FBI envision an O.J. confrontation with an alleged memorabilia-stealing wheeler-dealer?

“Hello there. I’m O.J. Simpson. Would you like me to autograph this stuff? Gee, thanks. Now that I’ve got everything I need, I’ll be seeing you around…”?

It’s bad enough the feds sat on intelligence normally channeled to local authorities, but what goads me is their insipid excuse for doing so. That got me thinking about the O.J. saga in general and how this development from another planet is one more miserable notch in the “couldn’t make this stuff up” belt.

Of course, when it comes to making stuff up, O.J. takes top honors. Who else would have the unmitigated gall to pen something as rancid as If I Did It, call it fiction, and expect to profit? I couldn’t bring myself to look at this repackaged tripe and, apparently, neither could a lot of other people. Thankfully, the “O.G.loved One’s” ill-advised foray into true crime confession is now #125 on Amazon.com, although I do feel for the Goldman family as the book’s gathering freefall means less sour grapes for the juice.

When the book placed in the top ten, it stood in a class all its own. Nothing from its genre had ever garnered so much attention. In fact, the book paved the way for anyone – group, individual or heir — wanting to peddle a compelling true story as fiction. I had a strange inkling about a possible literary trend, so I decided to do some digging around. What I uprooted is indeed stranger than fiction. Take a look at the top seven manuscripts rumored for publishing in 2008:

1. If We Perpetrated A Cover Up, by the Warren Commission
Subject: Assassination of President John F. Kennedy.
Summary: Back in the day, before Freedom of Information and the JFK Records Act, there was no need to consider a conspiracy. We could pretty much investigate however we pleased. The development of forensic science was primitive in comparison to today’s methodologies. Also, the lack of meaningful oversight allowed us to omit key information with no immediate consequences. As the months dragged on, it became readily apparent if we reported the destruction of material evidence or numerous irregularities in our own fact-finding mission, then too many “good old boys” would lose their jobs. Blaming a dead man and those bozos in the Secret Service became our ticket out of Dodge.

2. If I Caused It, by Yoko Ono
Subject: The break up of The Beatles.
Summary: John always most talented of that group. But inside, he still insecure like little boy. From minute we meet eyes, John drawn to me, like young butterfly to flowing nectar. I suppose it not hurt I also master of ancient Japanese technique. I plan all those bed-ins, make John my sex slave. Very soon, John do exactly as I say. I say world revolve around us, not mopheads. John take me everywhere, let me deal with cheeky leeches. Everyone fight. Only one sure way to make end.

3. If We Pushed Illegal Drugs To Do Our Dirty Work , by George H.W. Bush
Subject: Ending the counter-culture revolution.
Summary: All those commie subversives from the ‘60s — Black Panthers, Brown Berets, Cesar Chavez, Martin Luther King, Jr., Young Lords, Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee – they all swore an oath to destroy America. Our secret intelligence tried every known tactic to squelch those vermin. Yet, as fast as we could pick ‘em off, another would take their place. The CIA still denies any involvement in illegal drug trafficking, but it took me less than a year to find out how we were sweeping those pinkos off the streets into the crack houses and prisons where they belonged. Of course, with my political aspirations being what they were, once I caught on, I had to resign my position as Director. Told everyone I needed to spend more time with Babs.

4. If I Erased It, by Rose Mary Woods, as told by her best friend (name withheld upon request)
Subject: The missing Watergate tapes.
Summary: In a desperate attempt to save my career, I purposefully erased about ten minutes of those tapes. Even an average jane secretary knows her boss is going down when he’s reckless enough to record himself disparaging minorities. I swore an oath to Tricky I’d never tell, but seeing as how he resigned, I can’t see the harm now. I immediately stopped erasing when an aid barged through my door. After everyone had left the office for the day, I went back to retrieve an old sweater. There was Tricky, all flustered and sweating like a cow, poor thing. He was desperate to work the erase pedal. I gently tried to show him how, but he stubbornly insisted on doing it himself. Before he could get the hang of it, Pat barged in. She ordered him upstairs. I quickly put on my sweater and left. Heard her saying something about finishing what he started. Never did learn what.

5. If Humans Were Bred With Extraterrestrials , by Paul Bennewitz, as told
by an extremely concerned neighbor (name withheld upon request)
Subject: Area 51.
Summary: They poisoned me, those S.O.B.s, my mind, my water, all my food, everything I hold near and dear. They know it, I know it, and now the whole world will know. They used that off limits base to breed humans with aliens. It’s the only way the United States will remain a world power. When I found out, they implanted a chip in my brain to keep me from blabbing. They know it, I know it, and now the whole world will know. Don’t mind all the crazy drawings posted on my walls. Do you hear voices? I need a cigarette. Will you please make the voices stop? Where’s my cheese?

6. If It Wasn’t An Accident, by Prince Philip
Subject: Death of Princess Diana.
Summary: I always felt responsible for forcing that disastrous marriage, more so when she and poor Charles divorced. Those half naked tabloid pictures with that ghastly Arab, well, that’s what did her in, I’m afraid. As mother of heir to the royal throne, she still had our dignity to maintain. Bett tried to warn her by floating rumors, but the little tart paid no mind. She left the House of Windsor no choice. Putting my brilliant stroke of genius into action was quite easy, really. We knew her itinerary. We had a discreet link inside the DGSE. We set up a ruse for some chap to pose as a photographer. The rest, shall we say, is history. My one regret is Henri. He wasn’t supposed to be on service detail.

7. If Daddy Orchestrated It, by Jenna Bush
Subject: 9/11.
Summary: It’s no secret Daddy used drugs and alcohol to cope with his inadequacies. I’ll be the first to confess, being the do nothing offspring of a powerful man is mucho depress-o. At some point, Mum threatened to leave Daddy unless he sobered up. The next thing I knew, Grandpa and Uncle Dick promised Daddy the White House in return for a whole buncha stuff. Something about that Bin Laden dude and Halliburton. Does Saudi mean anything to y’all? Anyhoo, every who was anyone in the Republican party leaned all over those supreme court robes to sway Daddy’s election. Then, Condi worked out a plan involving stealth planes and missile fire — still a tad hazy on details – something about increasing Daddy’s ratings in opinion polls to impress Mum. I feel bad innocent people had to die, but I’m sure glad my folks stayed together. Umm. Well. Can y’all excuse me? Henry and I gotta party.


Can’t Get Enough of those Simpsons

Sorry. I’ve been away on vacation. It’s hard to keep blogging when you’re away and having fun. I’ll admit, the articles from last week were a little…meh….so what? At least now the whole world can understand why.

I first caught Life in Hell, a highly intelligent, avant-garde comic strip, in Baltimore’s City Paper around 1989, give or take. Authored by Matt Groening, slightly dark, but funny as all get out, I could really relate to those rabbits. I remember being very disturbed when the paper stopped carrying it. After some digging, I found out why. The paper didn’t drop the strip, rather, the strip dropped off the face of the earth. Groening stopped writing it. I was all set to start a letter writing campaign, you know, like the fans did with Jericho. Then The Simpsons came along. The rest, shall we say, is history.

Haven’t caught the movie, but heard it is LOLF. In lieu of a review, here’s my little tribute. The Simpson character is my own, courtesy of Matt and Fox head honchos. Special thanks to Zackkim.com. The featured guitar player is quite astounding.

Just one teeny tiny request to Matt (if I am ever so lucky for he of comic lore to drop by): Please bring back the bunnies.

Harry Potter and the Spoilers Final Battle

The battle to protect the secret ending of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the seventh and final installment in the famous J.K. Rowling series, recently morphed into full blown Armageddon. This time, the ante involves more than just copyright infringement, breach of contract, or tortious interference with business practices.

No, I’m afraid the very soul of Hogwarts is on the line. This is not, I repeat, NOT a drill.

Rowling’s fantasmical concoction of muggles, wizards, and witches is a unique benchmark in popular literature. No other work of fiction can claim simultaneous creation through pages and celluloid. Book parties, book store campouts, stroke of midnight release dates, numerous virtual Hogwarts communities, contests, games, and touring buses texture the layers of its spellbinding mystique. Proof of the series’ cultural icon status include its immensely popular main characters, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, as well as the movie actors who portray them, Daniel Radcliffe, Rupert Grint, and Emma Watson.

For each new installment, its extremely fortunate publisher, Scholastic, employs more and more creative marketing techniques to induce Potter mania. This strategy always includes strictly enforced restrictions on public distribution. By placing each new cash cow in a, shall we say, chamber of secrets, Scholastic perpetuates a highly successful method to build media buzz, along with enchantment in the collective hearts of Harry’s loyal fans.

But now the swill has hit the fans. Sorry, pun intended.

Of all unlikely places, the stench permeates Baltimore like a thick cloud of deatheaters on a muggy playground afternoon. Yesterday, the local rag’s front page headline, The Spell is Broken, hearlded unauthorized delivery of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows in Davidsonville, Maryland, to one Jon Hopkins (not to be confused with Johns Hopkins, notable Baltimore philanthropist), ostensibly the cousin of one Mary Carole McCauley, local rag reviewer. Along with Michiko Kakutani, reviewer for the New York Times, Ms. McCauley gave away plot tidbits, cloyingly refused to reveal what happens to who, then tartly dubbed the ending predictable. I don’t know how others will interpret this, but to me, her little cat out of the bag means Harry doesn’t die.

To make matters worse, some lowlife uploaded individual page images of the entire book for free distribution. Authenticity is questionable, but that didn’t prevent thousands of downloads. Then, someone tried to sell a copy of the unreleased book on eBay. Webmasters claimed no responsibility. They were just doing their jobs. Yah-vold!

I wonder if this will change the odds in Vegas.

Rowling and Scholastics are so outraged, they’re not only seeking injunctions, they’re also issuing heart wrenching appeals to leagues of loyal followers. “I’d like to ask everyone who calls themselves a Harry Potter fan to help preserve the secrecy of the plot for all those who are looking forward to reading the book at the same time on publication day,” implored Rowling.

Aw, isn’t that nice? Let’s make the fans feel like filthy rotten mugbloods if they dare disobey the midnight dissemination edict. Can anyone else picture Peeves pounding a framed version of the edict into Hogwarts Castle?

Wait. There’s more.

Israeli citizens are gearing up to join the ranks. Merchants who plan to participate in the release date by operating their businesses on the Jewish Sabbath are suffering a terrible backlash. A segment of the population is deeply offended while people in Tel Aviv don’t much seem to care. Muckety mucks are now involved and they’re taking names.

Will everyone please take a deep breath? Slowly…exhale…Ahhhh.

Harry Potter is just a figment of J.K. Rowling’s imagination. And while I have the utmost respect for the woman and her ability to weave such an enthralling tale of good versus evil — in the world of wizardry no less — in the end, Harry Potter is just a well-constructed fairytale. Certainly, people responsible for violating contract agreements and the author’s copyright should pay and I imagine they will. What sticks in my horcrux is how we, the fans, are so easily manipulated to eschew the story’s final conclusion before an arbitrarily decreed deadline — a deadline mandated solely to create media and consumer frenzy — simply because the people in charge appealed to our basic human desire to share a simultaneous moment as a homogeneous community, albeit contrived.

Listen up, people. This isn’t Woodstock!

For those of you who can’t wait until the witching hour to learn the fate of Harry and friends, or because of religious reasons won’t be able to grab your copy at the stroke of midnight, I’ve discovered a link to the ending. But I have to warn you, the person who wrote it also babbled something weird about Islam on a linked page.

If this is the kind of person you would trust to violate J.K. Rowling’s copyright and Scholastic’s business practices, then by all means, be my guest.