So what do you do when your daughter is the most famous woman in the world? Well, for Silvio (Tony) Ciccone, you don't live off your child's money -- after all, you have your Italian pride to consider. Instead, you start a business -- with her money -- and sell products with her picture on them to boost sales.
This is not a joke. Maddy's daddy -- yes, the very one she lambasted against in "Oh, Father" and "Papa Don't Preach" -- has a vineyard in Michigan; a state known for motor oil, not Merlot. At first Tony began Ciccone Vineyard with simple Michigan wines, but after business continued to falter, he realized that slapping a picture of his Goddess daughter might sell a few bottles. Um, ya think?
Of course I want to order every bottle. I want all things Madonna. Earlier this year she made it easier for her to expand into my wardrobe, although I still haven't decided on a t-shirt. Eventually, I want everything I own to be Madonna related. I wonder if she'll ever come out with Madonna soap-on-a-rope or Madonna whitening strips? I'll take 8!
I don't want to overshoot this -- that's what she said -- but I think this might be the greatest film ever made. Take that Citizen Kane! And while I haven't actually seen the movie yet, just watching the trailer alone is enough to instantly convince me.
Within the first few seconds it's blatantly clear that the film's budget was a non-issue, as the director only had 6 dollars, Canadian. Something else he threw out the window; talent. He must have rounded up every neighbor, cousin and hobo he could find to fill the parts of this horrendous cast. Since the actors can't act, I can only come to the conclusion that the director put all his effort into the movie's very original plot.
It's Web site describes the film as; "Set in the near future, Uncivil Liberties shows a United States where the government resorts to heightened surveillance of its own citizens in the name of security, while domestic extremists boldly rebel and take up arms in resistance."
My God, that just blew my mind! How in the world did he come up with such an organic idea that really sheds light on the country's current problems and even foreshadows its very probable, dismal future? He must be a witch.
Maybe we wouldn't be in the mess we're in now if only he'd made his eye-opening movie years ago, say, in 1984.
I’ve finally hit the big time. After clawing my way to the second from the bottom of CD’s masthead – thank God that intern showed up -- people are starting to recognize that I’m a big shot editor. Why else would I be sent a copy of this week’s PARADE magazine two days before the general public throws it away -- I mean reads it -- in Sunday’s paper. I don’t think just anyone can get an advance copy of such a prestigious periodical, especially when it contains a sexy article on Congress and health care.
When I say action, I want you to turn to the camera with a look of sheer shock. You've just been abandoned by your owner, your water bottle is empty, your exercise wheel is spinning out of control and you fear you're entire life exists just to entertain others -- but you keep it all inside.
The other day I played the Oregon Trail for the first time since the 4th grade. But instead of filling my wagon with my idiotic peers, I decided to make the journey with my favorite divas: Madonna, Kylie, Dannii and Bjork. I can't think of a better group of people to drive cross country with. Being pop stars, they wouldn't each much, and I'd save a bunch of money on clothing because Bjork could turn a bear or dead Indian into the latest haute couture outfit.
Things started off well but quickly took a turn for the worst. We were just trying to get to Walla Walla Washington to do some sight seeing; get from point A to point B -- do a little shopping in between.
But before long, Bjork had dysentery, which she would not shut up about. Dannii had diarrhea and Madonna broke her arm, again. They demanded water -- fresh water -- and were rude to every Indian who tried to help us. Madonna was by far the most helpful. Having spent all that time fox hunting on her estate in England made her an expert at shooting deer. Too bad she wasn't strong enough to carry back more than 12 pounds.
We had almost reached our destination of scenic Walla Walla when it happened. Out of nowhere, Madonna died. Just reading that on the screen nearly sent tears to my eyes. I really don't like the idea of her dying, even in a crappy 80s video game.
But for those of you who have been rolling your eyes, and I know who you are, here is a clip from Evita that shows my greatest fear. Enjoy, and if you do, don't ever speak to me again.
I was quite surprised to see this wedding announcement in last Saturday's Times. It wasn't because the couple was gay -- they've been printing those since 2003 when Tony Kushner "married" his partner and fellow writer Mark Harris. What shocked me was how beautiful these two women were. Who knew lesbians cleaned up so well. See what they could look like if they just spent a bit more time at the Lancome counter at Macys instead of Home Depot.
Like all articles in the Vows section, this one goes into detail as to how the couple met. No, they didn't meet at a Nascar race or shopping for driveway sealant at Lowes, but through a mutual friend at a Christmas party. Mary, 37, the brunette, left the party that evening thinking she was "happy there was a gay woman in New York who was pretty and smart and that I hadn't dated." Apparently, Mary is a slut. This is without a doubt the first time I've ever been able to identify with a lesbian.
The rest of their tale is one of the oldest stories in the world. Mary invites Leslie, 48, out for drinks. Mary gives Leslie a choice of three different places, to which Leslie is "pretty sure from the names that all the wines came with a screw-off top" -- just like Mary.
Unfortunately, the announcement doesn't say who designed the brides' gowns. But one thing that is obvious is that the ladies were too busy with their own garments to weigh in on the clergy's attire, who clearly stole her slip-and-slide inspired tarp from Maya Angelou's closet.
Well, it's finally happened. After working at CongressDaily for 13 years now, I've finally gotten Madonna into the newspaper. It's been a long time coming. Oh sure, I've hinted at her in issues past in headlines. I've even written a page with every headline referring to one of her songs. Thank god for the current immigration debate. It's allowed "borderline" to take on a whole new meaning. I guess I should thank my "lucky stars." Oh now Jason stop. You have gone too far. Or, have I not gone far enough? Anyway, I nearly shat myself when I received a press release saying Mary Lambert has made a documentary about all the women of the Senate. Makes sense. Her sister is a senator. But before she set her sights on Congress, Mary directed some of Madonna's best music videos, including Like a Virgin and Like a Prayer.
Wednesday I spent an hour sifting through AP images looking for the best picture of Madonna to run with the article. It was truly the happiest moment of my life. Or it will be, until next week, when I sit down with Mary to pretend to interview her about her movie and sister, when I'll really be there to gossip about Madonna. It will be the closest I'll ever get to my Madge.
Each summer I try to pick a song that is my official tune for that season. This year I've chosen Sophie Ellis Bextor's "Me and My Imagination." I know what you're thinking: that I've trashed Sophie and her music for years, and you're right. But now that she's lost a ton of weight and is super skinny, dyed her hair back to its original color -- thank God -- and has let it grown out, and has actually produced a catchy song, I've begun to like her. This worries me though. Who else could I possibly begin to soften to? If you ever hear me singing along to Jessica Simpson, Joss Stone or Avril Lavgine, shoot me.
Oh, and the video is adorable too. Maybe I'll be her for Halloween.
