Madonna don't preach

The Material Girl may appreciate the occasional gold faucet, but she says ostentation just isn't her bag; Heche bags bad-guy role in post-breakup drama. Plus: Michael Jackson says children come first!

By Amy Reiter
September 8, 2000 8:03PM (UTC)
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Forget all that Material Girl stuff -- the outfits, the makeup, the limos, the honkin' houses. Madonna says she's not into conspicuous consumption.

"I appreciate [extravagance] in other people," she humbly asserts in the upcoming issue of Rolling Stone. "Like when I go to the Versaces' homes and see the way wealthy people live, I think, 'I know I can live that way, but it wouldn't come natural to me.'"

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And while she admires people who "go full-bore and get into it and live a super-glamorous, decadent life and have gold faucets and statues everywhere" and admits to liking "nice things," she insists that she herself is all about keeping it real. Really.

"I like to show off when I'm onstage," she says, but "I don't like to show off, like, 'Come in and check it out. Look how rich I am.' That's not my style."

What, you don't believe her?

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Not making a splash

"I've heard there's been a rumor I'm going to take my clothes off. That'll only happen if I have a bout of amnesia or feel like mooning at someone in the audience."

-- Daryl Hannah, squelching reports that she'll doff her duds onstage in the London production of "The Seven Year Itch."

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The fall of the house of Heche?

It certainly was dramatic, but was the recent demise of Ellen DeGeneres and Anne Heche's three-and-half-year relationship the stuff of Greek tragedy?

In the upcoming Us Weekly, "friends" of the couple describe the relationship in truly Sophoclean terms. Its downfall, they say, was inevitable -- practically prophesied.

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"If there were ever two people who should not have been together, it was these two," opines one longtime associate. "I believe Ellen and Anne will love each other forever. But they don't belong together."

Blame hubris. Or better yet, blame Heche. Their friends do. "It got to the point where Anne and Ellen, who was always a very conservative person, would high-five each other whenever Ellen told someone to f--- themselves," says one buddy.

"Ellen morphed into Anne," another agrees. "The bad Anne."

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No word on what the bad Anne morphed into.

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Someone's bucking for "minor league asshole" status ...

"I'm really scared of George W. -- I mean really scared."

-- Christie Brinkley, confessing her Shrub-phobia to retired Gen. Colin Powell at a Redbook magazine luncheon this week.

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Juicy bits

You could put a fork in it, but David Lynch's cow isn't done. The bloody, butchered, decapitated, fork-punctured cow sculpture designed by the director for New York's public "Cows on Parade" exhibit and roundly rejected by city officials for being too graphic has finally found a welcome pasture. New York's Alleged Gallery, housed in a former meat-packing plant (cavernous carcass freezer and all), has put Lynch's butchered bovine, entitled "Eat My Fear," on display. Bring the kiddies!

Blame it on the boob job. Scary Spice's estranged hubby, Jimmy Gulzar, has told the U.K. Sun that his wife's decision to get her breasts surgically enlarged three months after she gave birth to their daughter, Phoenix Chi, was responsible for their marriage going bust. "Mel knew I was dead against it because it meant she would no longer be able to breastfeed Phoenix," Gulzar told the tabloid. "I felt Phoenix should come first. I wanted her to be strong and healthy, and all the advice was that breast milk is best." Gulzar said that, after the op, he refused to make love to the Spice Girl known as Mel B. Well, now that he's gotten that off his chest ...

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Latest sign of the apocalypse: "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus: The Musical." Yep, a stage musical based on Dr. John Gray's bestselling self-help book will hit the boards at the Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas on Sept. 17. The show will focus on five couples who rely on Gray's book for advice. Among its anticipated show-stopping numbers: a song about the mating rituals of penguins, chimps and flamingos. (Start printing up the "Flamingos do it on one foot" bumper stickers now!) The show's composer, Rita Abrams, says the biggest challenge for her was "finding clean words that rhyme with Venus." Now, now ... don't say anything meanus -- at least the book wasn't called "Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Uranus."

Fox TV might want to fire up the cameras. In his latest attempt to extend his allotted 15 minutes -- and one that smacks of almost as much masochism as marrying Darva Conger -- Rick Rockwell has agreed to get his butt publicly kicked by 23-year-old actress Marni Rosenthal. The two will face off in a charity kickboxing match Sept. 23 in New York. And while Rosenthal has been kickboxing for more than a year, Rockwell's taking his first crash-course in the sport now. But he's an old hand at humiliating himself in public.

Brad Pitt in the batcave? Rumors are rife that Pitt may be the next actor to don cape, tights and batmask and crusade against crime on the streets of Gotham. What's more, Entertainment Weekly reports that "Pi" director Darren Aronofsky and "X-Men's" Bryan Singer are in talks to helm the batfilm -- which would leave batveteran Joel Schumacher in the batdust.

Who was the scheduling genius who came up with this one? Michael Jackson is in talks to give a speech on child welfare at Oxford. His new mentor, Rabbi Shmuley Boteach, the "Kosher Sex" author, heartily endorsed the speech. "There is hardly an individual in the world more devoted to the prioritization of children than Michael." Ahem.


Amy Reiter

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