By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
By Eric Tsetsi
By Raillan Brooks
As for JENNIFER LOPEZ NOA JUDD ANTHONY's shotgun wedding, he said, "Is MARC ANTHONY even the father of the baby? Well, in any case, at least he was there." (My own viewpoint: The broad won't abort the baby because she's an old-fashioned Catholic girl? Yeah, an old-fashioned Catholic girl with a new husband every two weeks!) And moving from baby CULO to EMINEM's bare butt, Norton asked me, "Where have we seen that ass before?" I don't know, but I love this datalounge.com post: "It's tan, smooth, and hairless. What a total fag!" (Meanwhile, someone on the same site reports that COLIN FARRELL's dick shot has been cut from A Home at the End of the World. Too distracting, you know.)
Finally, the deadpan comedy Napoleon Dynamite celebrates dickheads, but within limits (spoiler ahead). A character who comes off like a total mincing queen and is even given several gay-subtext moments ends up finding complete happiness, natch, with his female chat room love! Chalk one up for the fears about the scary gays.
Rubenstein Associates' 50th-anniversary party at Tavern on the Green proved that most publicists are way better connected than at least one columnist. At my own birthday bashes, I generally attract a few club nightmares, some sex offenders, and maybe a supporting actor from Cop Rock, Taboo, or Seussical. But spin chefs at Rubenstein drew our governor and mayor, a major cardinal, and HILLARY RODHAM CLINTON, who jauntily said, "I'm told that HOWARD RUBENSTEIN is a master at getting people out of personal problems in the media. I wouldn't know anything about that!"
Moving on to one columnist who does count: I adore New York Times theater critic BEN BRANTLEY, but I must say the rapscallion can be a little predictable when he singles out one actor, usually female, and rhapsodizes over her for six lip-smacking graphs. He exults over her cough, her swoon, her lower lip, her scalp. He pants over her singular brillianceand her kneesthen claims that everything else in the show, and in fact the entire world, eats caca, especially when the aforementioned star is not onstage. But I repeat: I think Ben's magical. I love his ankles! (Postscript: IDINA MENZEL's green copping of the Tony gold may have actually been fueled by sympathy that started when Ben dismissed her performance after multiple graphs orgasming over co-star KRISTIN CHENOWETH. Trust my unimportant opinion: They're both amazing.)