On Saturday, Pamela Anderson delighted fans when she turned up at Planet Hollywood for a much-publicized celebrity auction.
To rev up a bit of excitement in the crowd, the former VIP star tossed off her top, then sidled up to the auctioneer to participate in the proceeding with a lot of sensual vim and vigor!
By the time the hammer smacked down and the auctioneer barked out sold, Ms. Anderson helped raise $65,000.00 for her favorite charity, PETA.
Instead of applauding the sexy siren for her compassionate act, a reporter at the Review-Journal (who was penning a blase piece on celluloid artists at the CineVegas Film Festival) chose to take a swipe at the pop icon instead.
Mr. Elfman (who looks like an elf, by the way) used the occasion to help build a foundation for some piffle he was penning for the daily.
On the premise that her "excited flutter of a pep talk" and willingness to "roll around on the car" to pump up sales (her 2000 Viper was being offered at auction) lacked class, he proceeded to compare her to the filmmakers who attended the CineVegas Film Festival this year.
In sum, he quipped that the art house film fest enriched by virtue of the alleged intellectual tastes of the fimmmakers who - "unlike certain people named Pamela Anderson" - were actually talented.
What a load of hogwash!
For starters, Ms. Anderson was not part of a CineVegas event.
Notwithstanding, the boisterous antics she engaged in were all part of her "act".
I worked with Ms. Anderson several years ago on the first season of the popular TV Sitcom "Home Improvement". During the kick off episodes, I had a bit part as a producer in the show within-a-show ("Tool Time") and Pamela played the bodacious "Tool Time" girl.
In private, Pamela is actually quite shy, intelligent, and every bit a class act.
Not unlike Marilyn Monroe (or Mae West before her) the persona one encounters in the public eye is one she cleverly crafted. Over the past couple of decades, the Pamela Anderson "brand" has not only withstood the fickle finger of fate in Tinsel town, but turned the voluptuous actress into a bona fide "star".
Contrary to Elf's empty opinion, Pamela is a smart cookie, too!
In fact, Elfman went way out on a limb with his pap, because - in essence - he was trying to compare oranges with apples. No can do!
The low-brow writer was under the mistaken impression that he was writing an in-depth insightful essay of importance. What the feature amounted to was a lot of misguided tabloid fodder.
Surely, the Review-Journal is not so strapped when it comes to worthwhile news, that they're forced to print Elfman's crap?
In another section of the article, the columnist matter-of-fact states that artist Takashi Murakami (who appeared at CineVegas Festivities at an elitist affair last week which caused quite a scandal in some quarters) is an important twentieth century figure in art circles.
Why, pray tell?
According to Elf, Murakami is being compared to Andy Warhol for "having fused fine art with pop art."
What nonsense!
I was an Art Major and I began my career as an abstract-expressionist painter.
For starters, Mr. Murakami's out-of-whack smiley faces amount to nothing more than silly doodles, worthless "junk".
Whenever his name pops up in a serious art discussion at a gallery opening, qualified experts roll their eyes. Then, an old expression flashes to mind.
"I don't know much about art, but I know what I like."
People who "like" Murakami have taste up the wazoo.I didn't conjure up the nick-name - "tacky" - for no good reason. In fact, I wouldn't even line the kitty litter box with one of his prints. After all, I wouldn't want to insult my cat.
In conclusion, the whole article on CineVegas reeked of behind-the-scenes maneuvering to me.
The way Elf gushed about this 'n that, for example, inferred to me - at least - that he's either on someone's payroll over there at CineVegas or too fond of the free passes (and perks that go with 'em) to dare cross the powers-that-be.
I prefer to read articles that are written by ethical journalists who endeavour to log in a balanced account of the events.
At a small-town newspaper like the Review-Journal, I guess management can't take the risk of offending potential advertisers with clout, by reporting the truth.
Until they do, their credibility is a big fat zero.
Review-Journal is the best? By whose standard?
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