Something to think about...

Cowboys, Indians...

So last night was one of the fucking highlights of my life, although I've been so busy, I haven't been able to digest it nor even anticipate digesting it ---

For, you see, yesterevening, I sat down for an interview with none-other-than PAUL BELLINI!!! There he is, pictured to the left, to the left... for those of you who don't know who the man is, A.) you should be repeatedly branded with a live cattle poker square in your perineum, dumbass, B.) he was one of the writers and creators of one of the seminal comedy programs of mine and many others' youth, "Kids In The Hall". He was frequently featured on camera during the run of the show, wearing a towel in the most unlikeliest of situations.

"Kids In The Hall" was the shit. I caught onto it considerably later... when it was rerun on Comedy Central... I'd watch it every day at 4 after school - we're talkin' mid-late 90's-ish. As far as I'm concerned the Kids In The Hall were the Monty Python of their generation - their humour, style, tonality, phrasing, content, everything was so distinctly theirs and I think their influence can be seen and felt on the construction of a lot of comedy since. Phew.

Anyballs... Paul "had never really thought about it like that before". Which is SO fucking nuts. But, as as with all true brilliance, it doesn't seem abnormal at the time.

So we met for a feature he's doing on me for his column in "Fab" re: the next Bitch Salad - WHICH, by the way, IS NOVEMBER 20TH!!! IT'S GONNA BE RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWW!!! - well actually, it's not solely a feature on me, I'm told. It's sort of a co-feature... on me and - and I can't even believe I'm sharing print with this man, it's so unbelievable - the late Charles Nelson Reilly. Hahahaha. Yep. You know you've made it when... = )

It was an insane amount of fun, and as per usual, I wasn't lacking in anything to say. And there were a few moments that I genuinely had some original insights that I'm fairly certain impressed him - which just gives me the biggest boner of all time. I was able to speak authoritatively about comedy to Paul Bellini... whom I consider a comedy legend.

And after the tape ran out on his recorder - which y'all know it did - he dished about the history of Kids In The Hall. And I think I just sat there grinning, resting my chin on m'hand, listening with undivided attention and childlike enthusiasm for about half an hour or so. It was awesome. And also stuff that I'm not sure if I can divulge here, so I won't. An interesting history, though.

So that was awesome. Without a doubt - one of the highlights of my year. Watch for the actual article in Fab sometime before November 20th...

In other, more random news:

Well, it's not news at all... but...

WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH MAYPOLES?!?!?!

I was just randomly thinking about this the other day. Maypoles - why were people ever into them? It's just running around a fucking pole attached to a string! You call that fun?! WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?

It's like tether ball - WHICH IS ACTUALLY KIND OF FUN - without the tether nor the ball. WHAT THE FUCK?!

Like really - is this how hard-up people were before TV? That a pleasant activity to engage in was holding a fucking rope and running around a pole? A fucking dog would find that boring!? GAH!

I just really don't get it.

I wiki'd maypoles, and even it's history is boring and nonsensical. It's some sort of appropriated pagan ritual and meant to some mix of the sexes. But not really. It's fucked up.

Anyway... again, something to think about...

Smell ya later,

--- Aj

Ho-Hum.

Hey muggles...

Sorry about the no bloggage yesterday - it was kind of a big day. Kind of.

Last night I hosted the 2007 Tim Sims Encouragement Fund Nominee showcase. There's the poster to the left, to the left. And no, the one face that could have moved tickets - MINE - was not originally on it. So, I remedied that. Too little, too late, m'fraid...

No. I'm kidding. They did just fine - the shit was rollickingly sold out, as per usual... filled to the brim with each nominee's respective supporters, nay-sayers and everything in betwixt...

As you can see, this years crop of nominees is an all-male bunch... I guess it was an effort to counter the Vaginapalooza that last year was - am I right? am I right?

Anyway - terrific group of guys who seem to have genuine camaraderie with each other... which is again, so different than the 24/7 cat fight that last year was. Again... kidding... or am I? No... it was just really chill last year... Desiree just kind of did her thing... Nathan, his... Rebecca stressed over her plethora of tech queues... the Roses hummed their optimum pitch in opposing harmonies... and I guzzled back wine and swore a lot... these guys were very different - chumming around fancifully. Really.

I didn't know how fresh in m'memory HOW FUCKING NERVOUS I was last year would be... but it was fresh a daisy. Y'all, I was nervous last year. It was effin peanuts this year - PEANUTS. Well, not quite - I had 8 million points of information to give out in my 'opening monologue'... I basically did 8 new minutes of time about the Tim Sims Encouragement Fund that I wrote from scratch that day. It almost killed me. And it was executed far from seamlessly.

I tried, and succeeded in some capacity, to weave this American Idol comparison to the process of Tim Sims Encouragement Fund... which I will still maintain to my death bed was APT! I then went into this long bit about how it's tradition that they get the unofficial runner up to host the nominee showcase each year, and went through every single pairing of winner and runner up of American Idol, comparing them to myself and Nathan Fielder...

It's like I was sexy, beat-boxin' wigger Blake Lewis... to Nathan's stately, Melato songstress Jordin Sparks...

It's like I was sultry, bulimic chanteuse Katherine McPhee... to Nathan's silver-haired Soul Patrol captain Taylor Hicks...

It's like I was whiskey-slingin' classic rock star Bo Bice, to Nathan's robotic rodeo princess Carrie Underwood...

It's like I was peppy teen queen Diana DeGarmo, to Nathan's gospel-tinged illiterate single mother Fantastia Barrino...

And perhaps in the most telling American Idol-related comparison I can make between Nathan Fielder and myself...

It's like I was smarmy, homosexual balladeer Clay Aiken, to Nathan's morbidly obese velvet teddy bear Ruben Studdard.

Yeah. There was this one woman in the front who SO fucking into that bit. Like, this woman knew her American Idol and I was pounding away at her comedy and pop-cultural G-Spot.

Not enjoying that bit? Nathan Fielder! Well... it's not that he wasn't enjoying it, per se... he wasn't there - MOTHAFUCKER WASN'T EVEN THERE AND I DID A CUSTOM BIT ABOUT THE BITCH! Apparently he's on This Hour Has 22 Minutes, which films out in Halifax... so he's excused... but still... *shakes fist*...

Anyballs... the show went great! I purposely didn't watch anyone's set so I wouldn't be able to judge them and give emphasis or favour to anyone in particular... well, that and my head's just generally up my ass and you'd be amazed at how easily I can kill time admirin' m'own reflection in the looking glass. But yes - everyone got laughs in my estimation, so it's anyone's guess who'll take the crown.

Well, that's bullshit. Of course I have an opinion, but this is hardly a forum I can be candid in - a fact that was tidily reinforced to me this weekend when I was confronted by two people who work on Project Runway Canada regarding my blog proclaiming it to 'suck'.

Anyway - on m'way out, I ran into the one and only Debra DiGiovanni who was fresh off the heels of a visit to LA and a stint at the LA Comedy Festival - which I'm also doing, and heading down to on Sunday. She said it blew. Hard. 20 people there her first night. 11 people the second. Including, apparently, the booker from Jimmy Kimmel.

Wow. Yeah. If I could cancel m'ticket now, I would. But I can't. So I won't. Blah. What with the bush fire currently toppling Malibu and San Diego, and the impending writer's strike set for the 31st, it looks like high season to be going down to LA... cherry on top of this being a good-old-fashioned hell-gig to go to.

Anyway... that's about it... it's really overcast here and I've been reading Rosie O'Donnell's blog all day, so I'm a bit depressed. Sorry for that.

Ta!

--- Aj

Don't get me started...

Wait.

On second thought...

DO get me started.

So here's the deal... Tuesday night I went to Buddies In Bad Times theatre to - shock of shocks - NOT troll for boy beav as per usual, but instead, to actually see a show. Can you befuckinglieve that? It's almost too much.

The show in question was the starter of their 07-08 season, entitled "Arthouse". It's essentially a scattered history lesson on queer culture told through cabaret and burlesque. One of my sort-of-guilty, nerdy pleasures is all things to do with the history of queer culture as I find it entirely fascinating, and this certainly didn't disappoint...

I'm not going to break it down in review formation - go here or here or here to read a far better review than I could give/have time for. It was some extremely fascinating stuff and some very powerful visuals... particularly powerful in the visual department? When Sasha Van Bon Bon and Kitty Neptune came out to do a punk striptease in gorilla masks in an ode to The Guerrilla Girls - a group of feminist artists formed in the 80's devoted to creating guerrilla art to promote women and ethnicity's in the arts. WELL... bitches done stripped down to nothin' but theyze gorilla masks and produced two skinny red boas from THEY VA-J-J's!!! Oyoyoyoyoy.

Y'know, recently I've talked a big game about being a spectator of vaginal performance art - I believe I expressed interested in exploring the when's, why's and how's of that Thai woman who can peel a banana with her vagina - but that's all it was... talk. I simply couldn't handle it! AHHH!

Anyway... the entire thing was fantastic, save for some very random, misplaced tap routine set to the funeral address by the Earl of Spencer at Princess Diana's funeral - like what the fuck did that have to do with anything? The musical interludes were amazing - that dude on the piano had a voice like almond butter and resident chanteuse, Paula Wolfson, was dazzling.

There were two things addressed in this glitzy history lesson that I didn't know about beforehand: 1.) I'm kind of ashamed to admit this, but I had no idea who Anita Bryant is/was. I think I had heard the name before, but assumed she was a tennis player or something.

Just who is Anita Bryant? She's a notable torch singer from the 50's, former spokesperson for Florida orange juice and the most notorious female anti-gay crusader in US history. Yeah. I didn't know that either. Back in the 70's, she lobbied to remove an ordinance protecting gays, lesbians etc from hate crimes.

That's her, pictured to the left, to the left... and yes... that sign DOES say "Save our children from Homo Sexualites". Yes! She was successful in doing this and in passing a slew of other anti-gay legislation - including the law against gays and lesbians not being able to adopt in Florida. Anyballs, this supercunt started to spread her seed of hatred and was one of the leading forces in the mobilization of the 'religious right' - a group that founded the marriage between a religious agenda and political agenda.

One of the most seminal moments in queer history came during a televised news conference that bitch held in Des Moines, circa 1977, when one of the most ass-rockingly awesome gay activists ever through a pie in the bitches face...

Afterwards, she's heard to joke that "at least it was a fruit pie". ZING! Good one, Anita. Bitch, youze lucky that wasn't me who baked the shit. Because if I did, it wouldn't be no fruit pie. It'd filled gonorrhea discharge, schmegma and the unfortunate-yet-all-too-inevitable mixture of lube and fecal matter. And it'd be up in yo face. Shiiit.

Anyballs, happy ending to this story. In 1979, a gaggle of celebrities urged people to join in a boycott against the Orange Juice products that she endorsed, and as a result, bitch was dropped. Then in 1980, her husband divorced her ass and she lost her credibility with the Christian right. She's since filed for bankruptcy twice, had a string of nightclub act flops, and I think she was an alcoholic or something. Whatever. I hope she gets violently raped to death by a Mexican wrestler.

Moving on - something ELSE I didn't know about until going to see Arthouse that I found entirely interesting was a story about an experiment performed on toddlers in the 1960's known only as "The Lollipop Experiment" performed by drag performer Stephen Lawson...

No, it's not how many licks it takes to get to the centre, but rather a fascinating study of the Id and character. It's a god damned shame that I can't find anything about it online, but oh well... here goes...

What happened was a bunch of toddlers were gathered together and given a lollipop. They were told that if they didn't so much as touch the lollipop for an undetermined amount of time, they would be given two. They were then left a lone for AN HOUR. Obviously, some of them succeeeded in resisting the temptation, others failed miserably.

YEARS LATER all of these kids were contacted and surveys were conducted to form a profile. What the scientists found was resounding uniformity in that the kids who were able to resist the temptation were leading normal, functional lives, with spouses, kids, houses, good jobs, stability. The kids who ate the lollipop were wayward, restless, moved away from their hometown, transient in their career, still searching for 'something'... etc... then, the drag queen opened a brief case and dedicated a riveting lip-synched performance of Judy Garland's "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" to "all the lollipop children out there". Nice touch.

Anyway... found that interesting...

Also interesting?

Today marks the 20th birthday of one Mr. Zac Efron.

I thought he was like 16 or some shit.

Phew.

This makes the raging boner that I and the rest of the world have for him soooo much less wrong. Hurray.

That's right - I've cracked. I'm over his questionable smug and smarm.

Work it, girl.

Work it.

In other news:

IMMA BE ON THE RADIO TOMORROW!

Does anyone listen to the radio anymore? Because shit, I know I don't. I'm going to be on Proud FM tomorrow morning at 7:40 AM with the morning hosts Ken Kostick and Mary Jo Eustace...

Two things that are going to prove very difficult about this:

A.) Being somewhere for 7:30 AM.

B.) Not constantly dropping Tori Spelling references. If you'll recall, Mary Jo Eustace is the jilted ex-wife of Dean McDermott, who Tori Spelling snatched from right under Mary Jo's snatch. I'm sure I'll slip up somewhere. Which is why you should listen.

PROUD FM!!!

103.9!!!

7:40 AM!!!

--- Aj!!!

Birthday She Wrote...

What a morning!

What makes is 'what a morning'? The fact that I've been squaring off with this hyper-aggressive Asian real-estate agent lady via telephone is what.

Holy shit this bitch will not quit! Remember that Simpsons' when Marge becomes a real estate agent - the episode was brilliantly called "Realty Bites"... awesome! - and she meets a hyper-aggressive Asian real-estate lady named Cookie Kwan who insists that Marge "STAY OFF DA WEST SIDE!"? Yeah... that's who I've been talking to all morning... she's got this thick thick THICK Pan-Asian accent and does not believe in letting other people speak... luckily, neither do I, so I'm able to easily talk over her. She wants in to look at a bunch of suites down at 1 King West, but my bosses aren't about to let her. They're like "tell her we need to talk to her bosses before that happens". Bitch claims she don't got no boss... actually, I'm not sure what bitch claims, because I can't understand what bitch says no way... for realsies, she might has well speak in her native Vietnamese or whatever her mother tongue is because she's not at all audible... anyway, she's not taking 'no' for an answer and keeps asking to be 'transferred' to my boss... and I'm all "no one's here right now and this is the 18th time that I've told you this" and I'm just starting to be an outright smug asshole to her and it's fun because I can and there will be 0.0 repercussions from it... so yay...

Anyballs...

GUESS WHOSE M-F'in BIRTHDAY IT IS TODAY???

ANGELA MOTHERFUCKING LANSBURY!!!

That's right - Angie L, star of "Murder She Wrote"/"Sweeney Todd"/"Bedknobs & Broomsticks"/"Mame"-fame turns 82 years young today!!!

And by the looks of it, is no worse for the wear.

Can you honestly believe that? I always thought Angela Lansbury was like eternally 50 or some shit... but no - 8FUCKING2!

TRIVIA: Did you know that one of Angela's sons was a follower of the Manson family, so she put her career on hiatus and uprooted her entire family to rural Ireland for a period in the 60's? Well, he never killed nobody, so by looks of it, it worked like a charm.

I love Angela Lansbury. A.) She really reminds me of my Nana in both physical appearance and demeanour, B.) she's aged more gracefully than a stork soaring on a summer breeze. Wow. That was outrageously gay. Whatever.

Upon finding out that Angela Lansbury is 82, it prompted a conversation in my office... would you rather be dealt the cards that Angela Lansbury's been dealt and act and appear 50 years old for the better part of your life OR be a smokin' hot babe who gets banged constantly for a short period of your life and then get completely busted and unusable for the autumn and winter of your years...

I haven't done a poll in some time, so here's one to mark the occasion:

Who would you rather age like? Angie or Prissy Angela Lansbury-stylez Priscilla Presley-stylez view results

In other news:

This might be of 0.0 interest to you, but it's mildly interesting to me. It seems that those crazy kids at Queen's University have done it again... The annual ghetto orgy of substance abuse and violence known as homecoming has made some more national news... I remember back at Queen's it was such a big shit deal when homecoming made national news... as not too much happens in Kingston... aside from the more-than-occasional Dan Ayckroyd spotting, this is really all we had.

I have no idea why I included this. I guess mainly because I'm wistfully longing for my University years more and more as I approach the 4 year mark of being out of them...

Viva forever,

--- Aj

big whoop! who gives a bibble? gabba gabba hey.: Canadian Television Edition

Meh. Just another manic Monday.

Welcome, welcome, welcome...

So a few odds 'n ends regarding Canadian television that range from moderately interesting to not-at-all interesting...

A.) STAR DAILY ABRUPTLY CANCELLED

This from The Toronto Star:

"Star Daily, one of several Canadian clones of Entertainment Tonight, has suddenly gone off the air.On Thursday, 22 employees of the show – a staple of the specialty Star channel – were given notice they have lost their jobs. The last show was telecast Wednesday.The decision to kill the show was made by CTV, which recently took over Star and 17 other specialty channels from CHUM.The show has the dubious distinction of being the first victim of the takeover – which will make people nervous at other channels.It came as no surprise to insiders who were aware that Star Daily had perilously low ratings – only about 7,000 viewers – especially compared to CTV's daily eTalk, which draws close to 400,000 viewers."It was a case of two similar shows," says Jordan Schwartz, vice-president and general manager of CTV's entertainment group. "We went with the one that made a priority of Canadian content."Most of those who lost jobs were at the level of production assistants."

Hmmm... well hardly surprising. 7,000 viewers? Yikes. My blog pulls in comparable numbers and includes none of the unpleasantness that is Sean Gehon. Shoot. Hardly-er surprising considering that the launch of E! Entertainment Television Canada took all of its American counterparts' programming that was previously featured on Star, leaving it with programming that could only be classified as sub par at best ("This is David Gest", anyone?) But perhaps most unsurprisingly of all is the fact that Star and all its fellow former-CHUM owned & operated channels are now owned by Bell Globemedia, the same media giant that owns CTV and all of its broadcast family. It's long been suspected that the entire former CHUM empire would be quietly and quickly euthanized in favour of CTV - is Star Daily the first nail in the coffin? Time will tell...

2.) PROJECT RUNWAY CANADA BLOWS.

Like much of the world, I loves me some Project Runway. It's reality television at it's absolute best and most interesting. I find the American version positively gripping. Not only are the characters within the show incredibly compelling, but they're actually brilliantly talented. The show always resulted in very entertaining, fiery, dramatic story lines and really fucking pretty product. It seemed like a no-lose formula. Seemed.

The Canadian version is soooooo, well, Canadian. Everyone is very polite and guarded. It is so unbelievably mundane! Their sound bytes consist of "I was just hoping that the model was able to walk well. And also, hoping that the judges liked my outfit. As well, I was nervous about going on to the runway. Furthermore, I sure do hope I return next week". Literally. It's that interesting. It's 100% of the formula of the US Version - right down to the white background with the dress form that they do their interviews in front of - with 0% of the buzz.

The best part of the show is Iman and that's not saying much. She seems like the only one who understands that this is a fucking show... y'know? The one that has CAMERAS? That record what you're doing? Intended for broadcast? Presumably, as entertainment? Whatever.

The one thing I couldn't handle was that Iman's Project Runway catchphrase upon dismissing contestants is "I'm sorry. But you just don't measure up." GET IT?! "MEASURE"? AS IN CLOTHES? Oh shit, that's rich. That must have taken a team of writers all year to dream up. If I was one of those contestants, I would have busted up right then and there each and ev'rytime bitch says it. Because I'm Canadian - therein being the problem --- Canadians are way too apathetic for that shit and, by and large, not desperately grappling at their 15 minutes of fame like Americans... therefore, pretty historically bad subjects for reality television.

Anyballs... I probably won't be watching to see who does "measure up".

3.) THIS SEASON ON SNL: STUNT HOSTING IS SO IN...

It is just beyond me what is going through the heads of Lorne Michaels and Marci Klein this season on Saturday Night Live. What the fuck is the deal with these hosts? First it was LeBron James... I can forgive that... they often have waste-of-skin athletes come on... then Seth Rogan... an obvious choice albeit imperfect fit... then JON BON JOVI?! Way to strike while the iron is hot. What the hell was that? WHY the hell was that? He sucked it. He was another musician who comes on that they try to flatter in every sketch he's in and ends up bombing. HANDS DOWN the best part of the night was Maya PK Rudolph's character Rosa Santiago during Update:

Yep. That was the best part. And I am counting Kristen Wiig's Bjork. I'm sorry... I am SO over Bjork impressions. T'might have been funny in 1998, but it's just turned into such a standby party trick for 'quirky' girls in recent years --- kinda like their equivalent to what Borat is for 20-something douchebag dudes. Me = OVER IT! That is to say that I was ever under it...

Anyballs - yes, it's true that if I had my way, every week would be hosted by either Molly Shannon or Alec Baldwin, but this is getting ridiculous. Two weeks from now it's been announced that NBC newsman Brian Williams will be hosting... so it looks like this stunt casting will continue. At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if the next 5 hosts are Barack Obama, Venus & Serena Williams, Tony Danza, Masi Oka and Hootie from Hootie & The Blowfish. Good grief.

Again,

Good grief,

--- Aj

That "What The Fuck Am I Going To Be For Hallowe'en!?!" Blog

D'afternoon... it's going to a pretty quick albeit colorful post today...

So it's about that time of year now... when a young man's thoughts turn to those of fancy, and a young woman has an excuse-nay-order to dress like a full-tilt skank for one night... TALKIN' BOUT HALLOWE'EN!

But what to be? What indeed...

... Well thank goodness for the site Halloweenstreet.com, because after an exhaustive perusal, I guess I have a few ideas...

This site, of course, rocketed to semi-infamy over the past week or so. One of the leading purveyors of sexified renditions on classic costume concepts - i.e. "Sexy Witch", "Sexy Nurse", "Sexy Vampire"... normal stuff, just 'sexy' - it arguably crossed the line with this "Sexy Anorexic", or, "Anosexic" costume...

The costume, now mysteriously absent from the site's inventory, came with the skeleton dress, measuring tape belt and a heart badge that I assume has some anorexic mantra on it like "nothing tastes as good as thin feels" or something...

And in either a masterstroke of irony or of monumental retardation, it comes in normal and PLUS sizes...

Sadly, that option seems shot straight out da window. But don't fret - there are dozens if not hundreds of other options to make this Hallowe'en your most festive and sharply-dressed one YET!

Options like...

Sexy Pirate Queen!

...Sexy Referree!
... Sexy Valet!
... Sexy Jockey!
... Sexy Cat! Meowzers.
... Sexy Convict!
... Sexy Cab Driver! [Is there any other kind?]
... Sexy Robin Hood!
... Sexy Construction Worker! [Notice the resourceful use of cones...] ... Sexy Mental Patient!
... Sexy Bunch of Grapes!
... Sexy Slot Machine!
... Sexy House!
And perhaps most enchanting of all...

A costume simply titled, "Down For The Count".
You're very welcome,

--- Aj

Andrew Johnston Looks At The News

Today: An article of interest...

1.) Strip-Search Case Victim Awarded $6.1 Million

Have y'all heard about this? Because I sure as fuck didn't. I need to start watching news magazine shows more... Anyballs... this shit just blew me over six ways to Sunday when I read it...

The scene: All-American girl next door Louise Ogborn is picking up some extra shifts at a Kentuckian McDonalds one faithful evening back in 2004. The timid, optimistic, virginal 18 year-old was just trying to do her part for her family - whose matriarch had fallen ill and lost her job.

T'was the middle of the dinner rush - and WHAT a rush! Out of nowhere, Louise is summoned into the back room by the shift supervisor, whose name is - and I shit you not - Donna Summer. Yes, Donna Summer. Not the Donna Summer, mind you. But a Donna Summer just the same. Donna Summer.

Shift supervisor Donna Summer says that she's on the phone with a police officer who claimed to be on the other line with the store manager. Apparently someone matching Louise's description - pretty, teenage girl in a McDonalds uniform - had stolen a purse from a customer, and by Donna Summer's estimation, Louise was the only one who that could be. Again, not reigning queen of disco Donna Summer, but rather a McDonalds shift supervisor in Mount Washington, Kentucky ALSO by the name of Donna Summer.

Pressing on: What happened next could easily be described as a nightmare. A hysterically upset Louise begged and pleaded, insisting that she hadn't done this and had no idea what they were talking about, and was given a choice: submit to a guided strip search in the store or receive a police escort out of there. I guess she found it 'less of an incident' to go through with the strip search. Alongside Donna Summer's urging that they both follow the orders, Louise was ordered to strip completely naked except for her soiled McDonalds apron. Yeah. This is just making all kinds of sense already.

Being a busy dinner rush, Donna Summer needs to go and check on the store, but the 'authorities' forbid her to leave naked-save-for-an-apron Louise alone. So D-Sum gets some random dude who makes Filets o' Fish to watch her. He storms out of there in bewilderment and disgust. In his place - and oh my God I can't even believe this happened - the """police officer""" told Donna to CALL HER FIANCE and have HIM come and watch Louise.

Within 15 minutes, Donna Summer's fiance, a man named Walter Nix arrives. Again, if you're just tuning in, this is not THE Donna Summer of dancefloor classics such as "Hot Stuff", "Bad Girls" and/or "MacArthur Park", nor her husband Bruce Sudano that I'm speaking of, but another Donna Summer whose fiance's name is Walter Nix. He's 43 and in the extermination business (read: a fucking catch).

At this point, I find it necessary to point out that Donna Summer honestly believes she's simply following instructions and that there is nothing out of the ordinary about this. Okay? Are we clear on this? Because this is where the story starts to get really ridiculous/horrifying.

Now under the watchful eye and persuasive hand of Walter Nix, Louise is ordered to remove her apron - rendering her now completely nude - stand on a chair, and bend over. For what purpose exactly? I don't know, I guess to prove that the missing purse isn't up her asshole.

Then - and this is just about too much - she's instructed to do jumping jacks. Yes. JUMPING JACKS. To "shake anything loose that she might be hiding". Save for a cigarette lighter and half a roll of Tums, nothing falls out. Kidding, kidding. Nothing fell out, obviously. Upon receiving that order, this is where anyone with half a brain would anticipate Ashton Kutcher jumping out of the broom closet saying "you've been very distastefully punk'd". Like COME ON - JUMPING JACKS?!? To shake things loose? Wow.

This gets so much more reprehensibly worse... When she doesn't refer to Walter Nix as 'sir', the police officer orders Nix to take her over his knee and SPANK HER. What's worse? This was all caught on surveillance video and one spanking session alone reportedly went on for 10 FULL FUCKING MINUTES! Yeah. Wow.

Donna Summer kept floating in and out of the back room to check on the action and each time Walter Nix would throw the apron at Louise telling her that she better be quiet. Hmmm. Louise allegedly pleads with Donna Summer to call the police, with Donna responding that she's still awaiting their arrival. This torture at the hands of Walter Nix culminates some three hours later with the 'police officer' ordering Louise to perform a sexual act on Nix. Yeah. Is this still the protocol of interrogation in the American Police system? I smell a rat...

Following this real-life torture-porno, the police officer instructs Donna Summer to bring in someone else - and in keeping with the long line of dead sexy predators, she chooses a 58-year old maintenance worker who refuses to go along with any of the strange demands. Walter Nix gets a little red in the face.

Redder in the face? Donna Summer. To find out that her 1985 album "The Wanderer" was neither a hit with critics or with fans... whoops wrong Donna Summer. Sorry. Okay - Donna Summer THE SUPERVISOR calls store manager Lisa Siddons who the 'police officer' claimed was on the phone the entire time. Yeah, bitch was totally sleeping and all "WTF?" That's when Donna Summer gets a hunch that this entire thing was a HOAX! That's right - a SHAM! A SNOW JOB! FLIMFLAM! A GOOD-OLD-FASHIONED COCK & BULL STORY! Yowwwzers!

So who's to account for this gruesome and sexually destructive game of Simon Says? Through elaborately tracing the use of a single calling card, cops later come to identify him as 38-year-old David Stewart. Not David Stewart, the male half of 80's supergroup The Eurhythmics, but David Stewart, a corrections officer from Panama City, Florida. ANNND this was hardly his first call. Apparently there were incidents exactly like this one stretching as far back as a decade. Jeepers effin' creepers.

What was David Stewart's motivation? To what? Form The Eurhythmics? Probably a vision for a new way to make music and it didn't hurt that Annie Lennox could sing like a bird and was easy on the eyes. What was the other, criminal David Stewart's motivation? A psychologist in the article sites "virtual voyeurism" to feed a "god complex"... he goes on to say that fast food restaurants were an easy target because everything is 'by the book', this is how it's served, this is cleanup procedure, etc... and that once you get them away from the 'manual', they don't have a clue...

There was never enough evidence to convict David Stewart of the crimes, and he was found not guilty. However, no more such incidents have been reported to have happened. Hmmm...

Anyway, Walter Nix, a genuine sexual predator as far as I'm concerned, was sentenced to 5 years for a whack of sex crimes. He pleaded guilty but asserted that he was following orders. Yeah... someone really had gun to your head in order for you to administer a 10-minute long spanking session, sodomize, imprison and humiliate an 18-year girl for three hours. Hmmm... Methinks the whole evening a real 'happy accident' from Nix's perspective...

Suffice to say, Donna Summer was fired after the incident. She was charged with basically everything that Nix was, save for the sex crimes, and entered an Alford plea in that she doesn't admit that she's guilty, per se, but that what she was 'tricked' into doing is worthy of conviction.

My verdict is that this woman is as retarded as bowl of cold gumbo. Jesus in heaven! WHO DOES THAT?!

Anyway... in the end over 6 million was well-deservedly given to Louise Ogborn's family. McDonalds' restaurants was found liable of not warning employees that such a hoax had been occurring for night on 10 years. Try as they might to deflect responsibility - for real... they had a psychologist testify and try to persuade the jury that Louise Ogborn had "grown in some way from the experience"... WOW! - those grease-slingin' motherfuckers had to pay.

Anyway. That's pretty much it for today.

Da-da-da-da-da, I'm lovin' it,

--- Aj