



Photos, Rants & Raves Within, Across & Beyond NYC





1990s' Aussie boy band Human Nature—who I randomly discovered in 2000 at a used CD store in Montreal and fell in love with ("He Don't Love You," "If I Only Had the Heart" and "When We Were Young"... ahhhh)—never got their due from Sony Records in the States... truly a shame, but now the boys are doing it for themselves, headlining Las Vegas' Imperial Palace with their Motown show, presented by Smokey Robinson (with whom they
duet on the classic "Get Ready" on current album "Reach Out"). Hey, even Celine Dion called them "wonderful vocalists who really know how to entertain a crowd." Who would know better? She toured with them as her warm-up in Oz, as did some guy named Michael Jackson, in the late 1990s.
Liz D. and meese, with Human Nature member Andrew Tierney.
"Are you disabled? Are you a disabled person?" she screeches, staring me down like a jacked-up hawk and obviously "suggesting" that I give up my seat to her.
this takes me a good 3 to 4 seconds—giving her time to shriek, "Hurry up. My leg is killing me."

A collection of plastic critter toys!
Gay carved fireman?
Val and gay meese.
Okay, my final post on Queen Mary Mayor Mike Bloomberg... from the New York Daily News: "No doubt, many voters rebelled against the constant harangue of Bloomberg flyers and those nasty Bloomberg commercials and phone calls and just wanted them to end. The mayor will still call this a democratic victory - final proof that New Yorkers endorse his naked power grab last year to overturn term limits. He fools no one. In the midst of the city's worst economic crisis in 60 years, Bloomberg spent money like a million drunken sailors to buy his job for the third time. Quite simply, he buried democracy under mountains of cash - because he could."
For what little it was worth, I cast my mayoral vote today for Democrat Bill Thompson—the candidate who is enough of a practiced politician to get the job done, but actually earned his current role as city comptroller, instead of, in the case of dictator Mayor Bloomberg, deciding one day, "Hmm, I'm kind of bored counting my billions... Hey, I think I'll throw out a few hundred million bucks to buy myself the mayoral office in the biggest city in the country. Then I'll finally be cool!"
Listening live online to 1010 WINS-AM, New York's legendary local news station... waiting for the bad news that Bloomberg bought his (illegal) third term. I'm only hoping that his "victory" will be tight enough to humble this arrogant prick... Naw, what am I thinking? The only thing bigger than his bankroll is his ego... or perhaps the closet he hides inside.
Adrian Pasdar has been my favorite (living) actor for well more than a decade. Following two failed series, "Proft" and "Mysterious Way," numerous low-budget movies, turns in "Judging Amy," Desperate Housewives," many more—and his particularly memorable turn in an episode of "Outer Limits"
called "In the Zone" (very revealing britches, cool cats, most memorable), when he was cast in the hit series "Heroes," I was overwhelmed: fame at last (for more than being a Dixie Chicks husband).
Of course, that series lost its mind in season two, after it introduced 500 confusing new characters, sent one its leads
back to King Arthur's court or some nonsense, and pretty much was as confounding as "Lost" became—as well—in season two (I just hope that "Fast Forward," the latest intelligent network series, will somehow avoid the sophomore curse).
perhaps he'll headline his own star vehicle.
Meanwhile, High Line Park opened earlier this year to great fanfare—an old train trestle that originally spanned from Spring Street in Soho to Penn Station at 34th Street, some 30 feet in the air. It was constructed in the 1930s because cars and trains kept colliding on 10th Avenue, giving the area the nickname Death Avenue. Fun! 
Tallulah!

On the walk home, Ayhan at Fulton Landing.
It was one year ago this week that The Smoking Nun started ramping up as a daily destination to
post whatever rant was clogging my noggin and the rampage of photos that my pocket-size Canon and I conjure. We've all been many places together, through some emotional tirades, triumphs and flops. Thanks for reading, cool cats. We're past the 38,000 hits mark and going strong!
Here's a particularly sad sign of the times. The Advocate, which has been the leading gay news magazine for more than 40 years—and which I have subscribed to for some 25 years—laid off 13 staffers last week, and will cease publication as a standalone magazine immediately. Instead, according to Queerty.com, it will become a 32-page insert in Out magazine, which, itself is taking in its sizable share of water each month.
Amazing architecture in the heart of Beverly Hills, on Walden Drive at Carmelita Avenue... I happened by, assuming that this house simply must have a rich history... Sure enough, "The Witch's House," or the Spadena House—also known as the Hansel & Gretel House—was built in 1921—and actually was moved from another nabe in 1934. It's currently being renovated, so is surrounded by black fencing... I tried to convince the contractor to let me inside, but it was a no go. The home was also featured in the 1995 film "Clueless."
Friday afternoon I headed to the Billboard Film & Music Conference at the Beverly Hilton to see Kristina moderate her first panel ever: "Transitioning from Music Supervision to Producing"... I was fortunate enough to find parking on the other side of Wilshire, within the heart of Beverly Hills, and did a sweet walking tour of the homes in the nabe before making my way to the Beverly Hilton for the biz at hand, and the party by the pool that followed.
The BevHil today...
And in 1956...
Before Tina's panel, I met with L.A.-based Gail Mitchell, who is among few survivor vets at Billboard... always lovely to connect.
Jonathan McHugh...
On to the pool party!
Michele, another survivor, who started at Billboard before I did in 1995, and remains intact.
The just-opened cement skateboard "park" was a huge hit. These guys are performing minor miracles.







Parking was tight on Sunset, and we drove around in circles for a good 20 minutes‚including a steep hill working our way into the Hollywood Hills, which challenged the poor little Chevy Peanut... we ended up parking in a public lot... which we then couldn't find when we left HOB (no, dear, no alcohol involved; I was driving, cool cats)... when we finally found the place at 12:15, we saw that the gate was locked at 12:30 a.m. Just 15 more minutes and we'd have been so completely fucked. Altogether now: Phew, dude.
