Russ Meyer would like to thank the Academy ... or, at least, whoever's behind the American Cinematheque of Hollywood's decision to honor him with a film retrospective, "Faster Pussycat: The Sex Crazed Cinema of Russ Meyer."
The hooter-lovin' director claims he's startled by the arty tribute, since he never thought his racy films -- 1960s cult hit "Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!" among them -- would get bras snapping and hands clapping outside the softcore porn world. His loftiest goal was to bring a tear of joy (a new euphemism?) to the eyes of those who, like him, like to ogle a lushly-meloned gal now and then.
But Meyer's most shocking revelation is neither his own humility nor his tendency to go ga-ga for ta-tas; it's the name of the biggest boob fan he knows: Roger Ebert, who penned Meyer's "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls."
"Ebert is more obsessed with breasts than I could ever hope to be," Meyer recently revealed.
Sounds like Pamela Anderson Lee has blown her chance at Gene Siskel's old job ...
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But can Roger's breast-love match Howie's lesbian fixation?
"My only regret is there are no lesbians in the story."
-- Howard Stern, allegedly an Egyptian lesbian in a past life, on the downside of "Doomsday," the animated sci-fi comedy series he's producing with Mel Torme's son, Tracy, and starring in, as (aptly enough) a dog.
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A Bunch of Bulworth
So was all that political eye-batting and lip-puckering for naught? Is Warren Beatty just a big ol' poll-tease?
It's looking that way.
Well-placed sources tell me the politically aspiring actor may have decided the White House isn't the right move for him and his ever-expanding family after all.
Word from Beatty buddies and advisers is the actor, a fanatic for gathering detailed info, feels he simply doesn't have enough time to find out all he needs to know and file as a Democrat before the Nov. 6 California deadline.
But at least one fellow aging Hollywood hunk won't be heartbroken by the news of Beatty's breather. Asked by a reporter this week what he thinks of a Beatty run, Robert Redford replied, "Not much."
Take that heartfelt Sen. Bulworth rhetoric and put it where the Sundance Kid don't shine? Ouch!
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What's next, the Macarena?
"I now know who Puff Daddy is."
-- Sen. John McCain on the staggering hipness he recently acquired by taking his daughter to the MTV Video Awards.
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Juicy bits
Donald Trump may have given Marla Maples "the best sex I've ever had," as she so delicately put it during their courtship, but last weekend Norman Mailer's son, Michael, gave her an antique French engagement ring, which the recent divorcee eagerly accepted. "I am very, very happy for them both," Trump said of his ex's impending nuptials. "I met him briefly and he seems like a nice guy. And he's getting a very nice woman." Whattaguy.
Looks like Trump's facing a little literary competition, too. Roll Call reports that the Jesse Jacksons Jr. and Sr. have a book coming out in January. "It's About the Money! How You Can Get Out of Debt, Build Wealth and Achieve Your Financial Dreams" seeks to "empower the individual to pursue the American dream," which is, you may recall, precisely what Trump's book, also due out in January, promises. To whom should an American dreamer listen?
If you ask me, he or she should listen to cockney-punk-folkie Billy Bragg, who dedicated a song to GOP/Reform Party straddler Pat Buchanan at a D.C. gig Wednesday night. The title? "The Fascists Are Bound to Lose." Don't giggle too hard, Jesse Ventura, Bragg had a few choice words to share about you, too. Let the feather boas fly ...
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