Mel Gibson's Drunken Anti-Semitic Tirade.

Chalk it up to the tequila...

When arrested last weekend for drunken driving,* Mel Gibson, director of the jolly gorefest "Passion of the Christ" allegedly burst out in an anti Semitic rant. (Apropos of what? One wonders...)

He also allegedly verbally harassed the arresting officers. The LA County Sheriff's Dept. is believed to have expunged the description of the tirade from the arrest report.

Mel Gibson's anti-Semitic outburst was 'covered up' - World - Times Online: "the arresting officer'’s original report said: "“Gibson blurted out anti-Semitic remarks about "‘f***ing Jews"’ [and] yelled out "‘The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world," then asked [the arresting officer]"‘Are you a Jew?”"

Given the ineptitude and arrogance of the appointments made by the Bush administration, I'm expecting the President to nominate Mr. Gibson as the next US Ambassador to Israel.

Is it any weirder than Stephen Johnson as EPA Administrator, or John Bolton as UN Ambassador?

Maybe Mel could take "make nice" lessons from Mr. Bolton.
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* Clocked going 87 mph in a 40 zone with an open bottle of tequila on the rear seat. Oy!

The Faboo Refugee, or "we might miss a beach day?"

I became a refugee this week, albeit briefly, and with the full resources of Provincetown, Massachusetts at my disposal. (Espresso, Art Films, and T-shirt shops out the wazoo.)

Perhaps I should explain.

I'm spending a few weeks on a small island off the coast of Massachusetts. It's off the grid, so power is supplied by a generator. I bring everything I need across the channel in an 18" outboard.

It's spectacularly beautiful, but the channel becomes impassable in even moderate blows. So when tropical storm Beryl headed our way I decided to go ashore for the night. (I am a little gun shy of storms after losing my beloved dog Lucky to a seizure during a similar storm on the island last fall.)

So I fled, hurriedly packing a few modest effects and beating a hasty retreat to Provincetown. It was funny to me that when I mentioned the storm everyone there responded "what storm?" By and large, urban folks are so out of touch with the weather. When told a tropical storm was on track to the Cape most folks responded "We might miss a beach day?"

Now I am fully aware that this exodus hardly qualifies me for UN refugee status. On the scale of human suffering, breakfasting alfresco on Crepes Forestieré and Cappuchino ranks not one iota.

We in America are so divorced from the suffering caused by natural events, and especially by wars. It takes something on our own shores like Katrina to wake us up. How quickly those of us not on the Gulf coast have forgetten.

This is especially tragic given the blinkered worldview of our administration. Now more than ever, we are strangely divorced from the suffering our actions cause worldwide as well. (See my next post on Lebanon.)

Urban Wildlife Part 26

Yesterday I was riding the # 2 bus through Hollywood and spied a truly stellar bit of urban wildlife.

At Sunset and Crescent Heights, a demurely outfitted transvestite boarded the bus. Despite her wildly unkempt wig, she was conservatively attired in an immaculately pressed suit / skirt combo. The styling would have made Nancy Reagan proud, though the dress was in lavender, not red. I mused that Nancy would have probably skipped the lacy white cuffs, as they tend to drag in one's soup.

So far this is an everyday event in Hollywood, so common as to not even attract glances from the other passengers.

The "wildlife" part was created by her accessories. (As Diana Vreeland sagely noted - it's the accessories that make the ensemble.)

Her dress was accented by a frowzy eared stuffed bunny, peeking its grimy head out of the buttons in her cleavage. The bunny was wearing an old fashioned head-wrap, as you might see in Ub Iwerks cartoons for the treatment of toothache. The bunny faced her, as if whispering private advice as she moved though her day. (A Harvey for the 21st century?)

The whole ensemble was perfectly topped off by her reading material, a dog eared copy of the Book of Mormon.

She slipped off the bus as demurely as she had gotten on, at Sunset and Vine, as befits a star.

How I love Hollywood!

- Will.

The Most Irritating Saint in Christendom?

I'm returning from Italy, where I visited San Gimignano, the home of Santa Fina. One hagiographer has called Santa Fina "The Most Irritating Saint in all Christendom."

Santa Fina accepted the gift of an orange from a young man in her village, and was scolded by her mother for her wickedness. Overcome with regret, young Fina flung herself upon the kitchen table and spent the next five years praying for forgiveness, until she died. Upon her death, the table and the many towers of San Gimignano burst into bloom with violets.
Hmmm, amazing how many of the Saint's lives seem to primarily underscore a fear of sexuality.

If you visit the Duomo in San Gimignano, be sure to check out the horrific last judgement frescos - a masterpiece in the "fear of sexuality" genre.

Despite this sad tale, I beg to differ. I think the title "most irritating saint" has to go to St Triduana of Scotland - who gouged out her own eyes when a young man admired them. She then presented them to him, skewered on thorns.

Yuk!

A stream near St Triduana's burial site is said to restore sight to the blind...