THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES
by James Killough
This is sort of a follow-up piece to Tuttle’s last Wednesday because I also happened to watch Dancing With the Stars a few nights ago. It wasn’t a voluntary thing. It’s because I’m in Miami staying with my Puerto Rican ex, Willy, and he likes his TV loud, surround-sound home-theater-system loud, preferably either musical or pugnacious-and-histrionic loud, in the form of telenovelas or the Latin equivalent of Judge Judy, a colorful character in improbably tasteful makeup named Doctora Polo, who even sings her own rather catchy intro jingle to a show called Caso Cerrado in a voice reminiscent of a tranny after a three-day crack binge.
Not just a random shirtless hunk. My buddy Michael Lewis as we like him best (left) and after winning Dancing With The Stars Israel.
DWTS is a Latino show, make no mistake about it, or part of one. It’s ballroom dancing, after all, which is Latino-esque in style: swaying hips, twirling arms, glittering costumes, feathers-feathers-feathers, and the swooning performativity of romance. What makes it more Anglo is the scathing remarks from the judges and the brutal elimination process, which lacks warmth and compassion, corazon, and therefore it can never be truly Latino.
THE KILLOUGH CHRONICLES
by James Killough
It does pay to read your friends’ spam email blasts, otherwise I wouldn’t have known that my buddy Tristan Eaton was going to be in SoCal doing signings of his book and launching a prototype of his new toy at Comic-Con last weekend. I’d always wanted to go to Comic-Con, so this was the perfect opportunity to pack a picnic lunch, hop in the train and take myself on an outing, as my mother would call it.
But, James, you ask, aghast. Why on earth would a modern misanthrope like you want to throw himself into the greatest concentration of unsightly, badly dressed geeks in the galaxy, if not the universe?
Greek revival: Henry Cavill as Theseus in Tarsem Singh's forthcoming "Immortals."
You’re quite right, it was all of the above, and I should have been forewarned. Before you savage me for being un-glamorous as well as inconsistent, it pays to remember that I’m not the only one with a geek hovering inches beneath my glossy-if-a-bit-tarnished exterior: Continue reading
by James Tuttle
A few days ago, I stopped in at Tru Hollywood nightclub for a party for Basketball Wives’ Shaunie O’Neal and her collaboration with Chinese Laundry. The shoes were okay, I guess. They only cost one or two hundred so they’re not a big investment but, as you know, I’m in favor of saving up to buy something good. More memorable than those tacky shoes was the high ratio of lighting and camera crew to actual guests and the fact that it was so damn hot in there. Once the open bar ended at nine, I was out of there so fast I left a vapor trail.
We can't bring ourselves to lead with a picture of Shaunie O'Neal so we're starting with a picture of shirtless Jan Schumacher because, um, Shaunie and Schumacher and shirtless all begin with a "Sh."
The Basketball Wives ladies who attended were quite beautiful and seemed to have a pretty good sense of style so I decided that I’d check out their show the next chance I got. I did and, well, it’s terrible. Continue reading
Crowds surge. Cameras flash. We rush to seats. So many mill about. See friends. Wave. Wait. Waiting. Clear the aisles! Quiet! Five. Four. Three. Two. Ryan Seacrest.
I thought I was about to disappoint you once again by writing about live performances rather than the television shows that, together, we have come to love but I then happily realized that I’m not! Even though I may have been watching the live performance from an excellent seat at Nokia Theater/L.A. Live, you were watching it at the same time on the nation’s most beloved reality competition. Yes, it’s the American Idol finale!
Gaga ran into the Chinese beaded curtain on the way in and kept it.
Okay, I know, Chip McKinney, gay polo leader. You are going to say, “I was there, too! And I was actually sitting two rows in front of you, which technically makes my seat better.” But, for the sake of argument, let’s say the rest of you were watching the show from the comfort of your living room or kitchen or dungeon or whatever you’re into. And thanks for your (imagined) two cents, Chip.