ON MANOR'S MIND       

The 2005 saga of Kanye West gave me pause to chuckle.  First, the man exploits a brutal hurricane to make a, well, dumb, accusation about the Prez ("Bush doesn't care about black people"), this publicity stun, er, expression of grave concern coming a mere handful of days before Kanye just happens to have a new CD "dropping."

West then shows how strongly he relates to the downtrodden he blubbered on behalf of, by regularly dressing like the Treasurer of the Bryn Mawr Polo Club.  Next up was a single wherein "golddigger" is rhymed with "broke broke"--the second "broke" subbing for the original "niggaz," bound to be censored out of public airplay--yet the pantywaists of the PC Patrol as one play Emperor's New Clothes, turning a blind eye to the sheer absurdity of such an inane substitution.  

I mean, "broke" isn't even a noun, so how could there possibly be a "broke broke"?!?

Finally, Barbara Walters adds the cherry to the top of the West Lovefest sundae by selecting the singer as one of The Ten Most Fascinating People Of 2005.

(left) Kanye:  Pretty in pink?

 Far be it from me to insinuate the former-journalist-turned-softball- pitcher had a teensy-weensy bit of coaching when it came to her selections.  After all, I'm sure everyone agrees that, when you hear the term "street cred," you immediately think "Barbara Walters."  In fact, I call her "Barbie From The Block" in deference to her urban grit.  Still, with an entire planet--not to mention one SWManor--to choose from, perhaps just maybe there's a minor outside chance someone possibly had a more "fascinating" 2005 than a singer who was relatively inactive two-thirds of the year.

Then again, I could be wrong.  It's not like, oh, say, Michael Jackson or the cleric elevated to Pope had much to add to their diaries in '05.  And there's no way anyone who ISN'T a household name could be fascinating, agreed?  Ditto anyone who has the inexcusable audacity to not speak English!  

Not that choosing celebs who are apt to draw the highest ratings remotely had anything whatsoever to do with the selection process.  I would never suggest such a cynical thought.  

Never.                                                Babs and some guy who had an uneventful '05.

Likewise, I hope I haven't given anyone the impression Babs has devolved into what is essentially a "camera whore," i.e. one of those people who will go on any TV show, appropriate or otherwise, to grace the unwashed masses with his or her unending stream of unspectacular opinions.  No doubt if that were the case, it would have been one of the myriad thought-provoking topics addressed by Ms. Walters as she spends an hour each weekday opining on The View.  If not there, then certainly during her December 18, 2005 appearance on Inside The ACTORS Studio.

Yessiree, Babaloo, we can always count on James Lipton to pose hard-hitting questions to ACTORS such as Barbara Walters...just like he did in previous appearances by ACTORS Billy Joel and Elton John.  I can't wait to see Jimmy Lapped-On grill ACTORS Rusty Wallace and Allen Iverson!

Getting back to our peppy preppy, please understand this is not a blanket condemnation of all things West.  Au contraire, Kanye--I just want to know how you pulled it off, man!!!  

Sure, I've received some level of international recognition.  But it's about time I moved up massively in fame and fortune, particularly the latter, what with the puny pay scale associated with pen-slinging.  Otherwise, it's been cool being a cult hero.  However, I can really use some pointers on how to get on the cover of Time and on Cribs, and I know you are the man for the job, Kanye.  Or to put it another way:  I'm not trying to be a personal attacker; you're just dealing with a broke broke.

Traveling down a similar path....So it's time to write another song parody for the wrestling mag, I choose Kid Rock's "Cowboy," google the lyrics to ensure syllabic accuracy and--hey, wait a minute!  That "suck my RADIO EDIT" line is on the actual album, meaning cRock put it there himself, thus censoring the line for all listeners...which means it's not a "radio edit" at all!!!

You may recall this character strongly stating his case that, despite naming himself after another musical genre, he is shoulder-deep into the hip-hop culture.  Why, he even provided a TV biography producer with film footage of hgh school student K-R breakdancing and dating women of color.  Interestingly enough, that very same medium thereafter showed the self-professed "Detroit player" guitar-boogeying with a Southern Rock band; and in November 2005, appearing on a tribute to noted turntable grandmaster Johnny Cash.                                                            "Thank God I'm a country pimp."

So little time, so many bandwagons to jump on.  Personally, I believe he, his cornball-duet partner, round-the-way-girl Sheryl Crow and the Foo Fighters (both acts also on the Cash charade) would profess their lifelong devotion to Pavarotti--as long as there was a camera present.

"But, Stately, you have blessed us with breathtaking performances with blues, folk, rock and punk acts."  True, but the difference is, I always claimed to excel at everything, never feeling a need to beg the public to believe I live and breathe any particular genre.  Kid foolishly did.  And if he or anyone else has a problem with me calling him on the proverbial carpet over it, you can suck MY radio edit.

Not surprisingly, our man Kanye West appeared on Rolling Stone's "Mavericks, Renegades & Troublemakers 2005" list, too.  As cutting-edge and with-it as ever, Wenner's Wonders also chose rascally radicals Bob Saget and Mick Jagger to appear on the Maverick list.

Hey, quit giggling.  I swear, I'm not pulling your leg.  It's right there in double-issue 990/991.

Besides, the Rollers uncovered the shocking news--already known by anyone who saw theTV bio several seasons earlier--that, oooooooh, Saget uses lots of naughty words while performing stand-up, certainly not a Trying WAY Too Hard transparent attempt to "prove" he's oh-so-hip despite an entire career built upon pandering to the very heart of Squaresville.  And it's not like anyone before Bob sprinkled their act with f-bombs, right?

As for Sir Mick, it's only been 38 years since he co-wrote "Street Fighting Man" from the safety of his penthouse, so let's give the incredibly credible magazine some latitude.  The staff can't get out much, overburdened as they are with the exhaustive workload of filling every other page with ads for Fortune 500 companies, and all.

Mock them if you must, but remember:  if it wasn't for Rolling Stone, scores of clueless suburban collegiates wouldn't have learned all about punk rock....in 1987.

Hubba Hubba Honey:  In late '98, Elizabeth Berkley was selected as a substitute H-H-Honey after a disgraced Alyssa Milano was stripped of the honor upon your narrator learning the latter's post-TV "growth spurt" was more Doctor Pummpupparaq than Mother Nature.  Now, at last, it's time to salute the costar of Liz's epic cinematic achievement, brazen brunette Gina Gershon.

We've all seen Showgirls and thus we....You haven't?  Well, hold on there, Jack or Jacqueline.  Advance no further until you've basked in the glory of this mopic masterpiece--and catching the crappy VH-1 version doesn't count, cheapskate.

[Coincidentally, if you click this link, you'll be redirected to a scintillating review by America's most astute scribe, a brilliant man who correctly predicted the film would become a midnight movie classic years before it came to be just that.]

As I was scribing, we've all seen Showgirls and thus we all know what Gina brings to the table, torso-wise.  But what separates Double-G from the bulk of the Bod Squad is what's above the collarbone.

Ms. Gershon's facial expressions send one message loud and clear:  Gina is a bad girl.

A very bad girl.

Although we've never actually met, I KNOW Gina has absolutely no interest in being my "friend."  She wants to shove me up against a wall, and plant a lip-lock with enough vacuum to loosen my tonsils, as she slides her hands up under my sweatshirt.  Okay, maybe she won't behave that way around you; but, hey, I am Stately Wayne Manor, after all.

Hell, I've even got a note outlining her illicit intentions.  All right, so it's typed, and her signature bears a striking resemblance to my handwriting.  But you can't prove it's not from Gina, so back off.  And never mind what you may have heard about the restraining order.

 (left) Gina preps for a hot date with SWManor.

You may present a strong argument in regards to whom could be considered equals, but Stately states there is no woman on Earth sexier than Gina Gershon.  Members of the jury, I present her Celebrity Poker (television show) appearance as excellent evidence.

Gina starts the game in a non-descript, closed-to-the-neck jacket.  Tune back in 15 minutes later when the stakes are higher, and she's in a black silk blouse unbuttoned down to here, virtually purring her bet declarations.  Of course this tactic is meant as an enormous distraction--and it works exceedingly well.

And I guarantee you Gina knew EXACTLY what she was doing.

Best of all, she topped off each pot win with the tiniest hint of a smile silently conveying "Thanks, sucker."  How can someone like me not be immensely impressed by someone like her?  It's about time you were, too.  Don't make me have to come over there and column-edit you up!

Note:  To mix things up a bit and include subjects a little more familiar to the average citizen, this O-M-M is a slight departure from the norm, concentrating primarily on high-profile celebrities.  To read a typical On Manor's Mind, please return to the O-M-M hub and choose any of the other links.

Or we'll kill you.