CMT's "Mobile Home Disaster"

Since the fabulous "Real Housewives of New York" unraveled into a bland season of faux Southern divas in Atlanta, the best reality show on TV is CMT's "Mobile Home Disaster." No, I'm serious. Sorry HGTV, Fine Living and Style Channel. Hosted by admitted, self-effacing redneck comedian John "Cap" Caparillo (left), it follows a typical template of remodeling a home for those in need: but in this case, we're talking overwrought families crowded into mobile homes that border on unlivable.

It's funny as hell, touching and the results outdo the gloss and glamour of the HGTV shows that I've been addicted to for so long... Host Sandra Rinomato is wonderfully mean to dumbass new-home buyers on "Property Virgins," Carter Oosterhouse can do no wrong with his skills (and those teeth) on "Carter Can," David Bromstad is among the most engaging, handsome and talented reality TV hosts I regularly watch on "Color Splash," and my main ladies—Donna and Shannon Freeman—who appear on a number of HGTV series, are deliciously brutal with those who have no clue that their homes are decorated like whorehouses.

But I digress. "Mobile Home Disaster" always leaves me a bit teary in the end, as I chortle like an overweight Alabama housewife throughout... and swoon like a metropolitan homosexual over carpenter Kyle. Every show needs one of those. While cleaning house today, I was glued to a four-episode mini-marathon, thanks to Tivo. Yee-haw!

A Different World... At 4:30 In The Morning

As one who simply loathes putting myself to bed—staying up until 3 and 4 in the morning at least once during the week and every weekend—it was still an odd feeling to be out as late in the city, particularly alone. I was dropped off at the Path station in Hoboken, New Jersey, around 3:30 a.m. after a grand night in Atlantic City, and made it back into Manhattan within 20 minutes... a slightly uncomfortable walk up Christopher Street, gently littered with drunk queens; then a snap decision to attempt the subway over a cab, if only for the adventure of the habits of the city late into the night.

The 1 train quickly came to the Christopher Street station—what an odd feeling to be alone in the car. And admittedly, I didn't feel wholly safe. I sat toward the end of the car, so that if anything shady appeared as I made my way down five stops to the express train at Chambers Street, I could handily relocate... Once there, a handful of late-night partiers (or night-shift workers) eased my mind. The 2 train came within 10 minutes as I read the January Vanity Fair cover story on Tina Fey...

Once safely out at Clark Street in Brooklyn Heights, I saw the New York Times truck dropping off the Sunday paper at a nabe bodega... continued walking along a street with no cars, no people, just a breeze and a chill in the air.In the highrise across the street, there were no signs of life, save for one penthouse dweller with the lights on...
And then, alas, some 30 minutes later, there remains only one lone idiot, drinking Diet Coke (hey, it's caffeine-free) and smoking cigarettes, who still won't put himself to bed... insisting instead on posting matters of little importance on his blog.

Santa Flash Mob?

In all my years—and there have been a few—this has to be one of the most surreal visuals of my life. Dateline: Astor Place, Manhattan. Approximately 4 p.m. Saturday. As Christa and I made our way to her car, heading to Atlantic City for a night of Duran Duran, what before our wondering eyes did appear, but two dozen Santas, we've lost our minds, we did fear.
I still don't know what this is all about. Perhaps it best remains that way.
UPDATE: December 16, 2008: Mystery solved. It's NYC SantaCon! Click link to find out more.

One To Watch: Justin Gaston

He was a finalist on "Nashville Star" and is currently dating diva brat Miley Cyrus... okay, so he has yet to accomplish anything of note... no, wait, he also posed for 2xst ads in his under-britches. Score! Following last week's Robert Buckley, we nominate Justin Gaston as "One To Watch." Or at least look at. Carry on, wayward ones.

Kilgour's Annual Tree Trimming Party

It's Friday, but Lunasa's weekly gathering was side-swiped for a warm-up at Central Bar to say farewell to Billboard's fall interns, followed by festivities at Jeff Kilgour's fabuloso apartment in Park Slope for his annual tree-trimming parteee.

From left, Kilgour's squeeze Simona, Donna, Kristina, Christa, Kilgour, Chuckle and Jen.

Charlies' Angels: Kristina, Donna & Christa.

Leona Lewis = Billboard's Top New Artist of 2008!

Wow, radio got it right for once.

As Billboard begins to roll out its year-end 2008 goodies, the superlative that pleases me most is Leona Lewis being named the top new artist of the year. This is a singer that I first heard and saw watching a music video show (imagine that!) in a hotel room in Istanbul, Turkey, last November, and I couldn't wait for her to arrive in the States—nervously, of course, wondering if a melodic vocalist, no matter how talented, could fire-bomb her way through the steel-plated doors that FM radio still guards to keep most of the good ones out (Delta Goodrem, anyone?).

But thanks to the proliferation of iTunes and Internet radio, there was simply no holding "Bleeding Love" back, and radio had no choice but to join the party—and once they did, boy it was with all eight cylinders in gear: No. 1 Hot 100 single, with massive airplay at top 40, AC, adult top 40, dance and even Latin. A No. 1 album debut, and solid follow-up "Better In Time."
Overseas, of course, Lewis is way ahead, and holds No. 1 in the U.K. this week with a remake of Snow Patrol's "Run," a song certain to finish the year in my top 10.

Earlier, this year, we were fortunate to have Leona stop by Billboard, where I had the chance to sit down for an interview on Billboard.com. Click on the link to see the goods. For once, I was even blessed with a good hair day when the camera rolled.

Where I Live

Corporate America may not be pretty, but at least I remain fortunate (for the moment anyway) to still be a part of it. I started at Billboard in October 1995 and am currently No. 4 on the editorial side in terms of longevity. I'm proud? Amazed? And never take a moment for granted. So today, with deadlines done for 2008, I had time to clean my desk and thought it prudent to snap a memento, because you know, Friday is coming, and it could be my last. These are dastardly days for all, after all.

At left, the glorious 770 Broadway on the Lower East Side of Manhattan; and right, the stunning Christmas tree that currently decorates the lobby. Tonight I made three discs of Christmas music for the fine guy that mans the premises... an annual tradition.

2008 Christmas Card... Abort!

Well, we tried... take two tomorrow night... here's our first attempt at Christmas card Year No. 5, sans cropping. This is what happens when you depend on a pocket camera on timer to take your precious annual photo. No go. At least Kirby was looking at the camera. She turned out the best among the three of us. Next!

Wicks Flicks

Country music has always had a tendency to round up some of the finest beef south of the Mason Dixon line: Luke Bryan, Ty Herndon, Clint Black... The latest to join the pageant: Chuck Wicks. Raised on a Delaware potato farm, the 29 YO moved to Nashville as a songwiter. Now signed to RCA, debut single "Stealing Cinderella" reached No. 5, followed by top 15 "All I Ever Wanted." Good luck, Chuck.

Biography: "The Wahlberg Brothers"

The Biography Channel debuted a new doc on the Wahlberg Brothers December 6, which I was pleased to be included in as a media spokesman. After not appearing on a TV doc for the better part of a year , this has been a season of riches, with the E! "THS" on Celine Dion, Biography's "Donny & Marie" show and, in Canada, another "THS" on Nelly Furtado. But this is it, for now.

Here's the Bio Channel's synopsis: "Growing up in Boston, Donnie and Mark Wahlberg were the youngest of 9 children. Donnie shot to fame with popular boy band "New Kids on the Block." Later, Donnie began acting in such films as Ransom and The Sixth Sense. Younger brother Mark began his career as rapper "Marky Mark" along with group "The Funky Bunch." Mark's breakout hit as an actor came in the film, Boogie Nights, and he was nominated for an Academy Award for The Departed.


My mission covered proliferation of Donnie in New Kids on the Block and the subsequent chart success of Marky Mark & The Funky Bunch. My favorite comment: "When he performed, he also had a proclivity toward... touching... his... stuff," followed by a bemused look. In total, it looks like I logged about 25 comments during the hour—the most among any show I've participated in. That's more fun that a plate of french fries. Check local listings for future airings on the Bio channel.

AND NELLY FURTADO'S "TRUE HOLLYWOOD STORY"...




From E!: "Canadian pop star Nelly Furtado is profiled in tonight's True Hollywood Story. Producers focus on her transformation from a tomboyish newbie on her debut album Whoa, Nelly! to a sultry singing sensation on 2006's Loose."

Reflections On Times Square

A photo I took in Times Square, as neon signs reflect in windows.

Ricky Martin Has Twins..."And Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue"

Ricky Martin's oven-baked babies have blue eyes... and now he suddenly does, too? WTF? (Click on images for closer view)

Sorry, But...

Day without a gay for me would more likely be gay without a job. Sorry, I get the cause, but I also need an income. Gays need their 50-inch plasma TVs as much as anybody.

Taylor Swiftly Disillusions A One-Time Believer

When teen Taylor Swift sang live at the Billboard Café in 2007, just as first single "Tim McGraw" had grazed the country charts, I was taken with her confidence, maturity and star quality, and championed her success. But watching her performance of Brenda Lee's "I'm Sorry" on the Grammy noms telecast that aired last week was disappointing, if not disillusioning. Swift is not only off-key and nasally, but seems oblivious to the maudlin lyric.

As a music journalist, indie Big Machine has burned this artist to a crisp, with daily e-mails reporting her every move: "Taylor Blows Nose! Taylor Eats Pizza! Taylor Ties Shoelaces!" Obviously, country radio disagrees, as she just logged another No.1 there and sophomore album "Fearless" is a certified smash. Yes, she is the savior of youth country... but after this telecast, Taylor needs to swiftly prove herself a better bet than the latest teen idol.

Deal With It, Darling

Dethroned Idaho Republican Congressman Larry Craig was served just deserts when the Minnesota Court of Appeals denied his second appeal against charges that the homophobic gay is guilty of a misdemeanor for disorderly conduct after he solicited sex with a male cop in a Minnesota airport bathroom stall in June 2007.

Honey, it's time to give it up. In this second rejection, District Judge Charles Porter deemed his original confession “accurate, voluntary and intelligent, and supported by the evidence.” The despicable 63-year-old responded, "I disagree with their conclusion and remain steadfast in my belief that nothing criminal or improper occurred." And in denial, I suppose, that the press is onto something since reports first surfaced in the early 1980s that he persistently stalks gay men in secrecy.

The good news is that his fight cost the curmudgeon a half million dollars. The bad news is that his wife Suzanne (whose three children were adopted by Mr. Craig; note, none of their own) is likely bearing the brunt of the financial strain. I just hope she has a fabulous home, many mink coats (which her husband, no doubt, twirls around in while she's buying groceries at Kroger) and a friendly gentleman who can satisfy her womanly needs.

There is little more egregious than hiding in the closet—it's 2008, people—and not only publicly denouncing homosexuality, but willingly casting a career of legislation against civil rights.

I am utterly delighted—and spinning around myself—to see the closet door (or in this case, the bathroom stall) slam in Larry Craig's face. I am saddened that he continues to live with such shame and deny his homosexuality. Sweetheart, look at Jim McGreevey... there is peace and joy in accepting oneself... I pity this person. And nothing is sadder than bestowing pity upon another.

Yes, Virginia, There Is A Santa Claus... EMI Publishing!

In a year where the year-end celebration has become as extinct as the dodo, EMI Publishing saved the holiday season with its annual mega blow-out (after all, royalties have been continuously collected since the dawn of recorded music, making the company somewhat immune to the casualties of most other media companies). The event was held at Hiro Ballroom in Manhattan's Maritime Hotel, once a cement eyesore with portholes for windows that's now a glam south Chelsea hotspot.

I arrived stag—my work wife Kristina bailed and Ayhan was working—so I was ecstatic to reunite with our dear friend Bernadelle, whom I haven't seen in a few months, since she moved to Riverdale in the Bronx. We spent the evening together, and I had a fulfilling catch-up blast.

Also on hand: Publicist extraordinaires Rob Goldstone and David Wilson (my hosts, pictured here), Billboard editor in chief Bill Werde and NNC News' David Perosi.

Hiro is as utterly hip as one could hope, with Asian dancers swinging through hoops, a la a circus show, and an apropos cascade of cultural decorations. The place was packed by the time I left, with a well-dressed, well-groomed, awfully good-looking crowd of the well-connected. God, I love New York shizzle.

Oh, Great: "2008 Will Be One Second Longer"

According to a news report, the International Earth Rotation & Reference Systems Service monitors the difference between the Earth's rotation and the atomic clock. As the Earth very gradually slows down, the two timescales are continually thrown out of synch, and every so often, one "leap second" must be tacked on to the atomic clock. An extra second will be added on the last day of 2008 at 6:59:59 p.m. Eastern Standard Time (don't blink).

Well, this is just an outrage. The next thing you know, they'll start tossing in an extra day to the shortest month of the year a couple times a decade. Geez. It's all President Bush's fault, I bet... Sigh, time has lost all meaning now...