Tag Archives: David Hyde-Pierce

Collapsible Popeye and one dead Jesus

Saturday afterthought.

I want to talk really quickly about Prop 8. But first I have to mention food.

I know I drone on a lot about health and nutrition. I do, there’s no denying it. The reason I’m so passionate, though, is because I know there’s a kind of karma at work here. Body karma, you might call it. In other words, you get out what you put in.

PopeyeRemember those collapsible toy figures from years ago?

Someone gave me a Popeye once. He had a button underneath. Press the button and Popeye went all limp and droopy. Let go, and he sprang up to full height again. I figured a button was probably cheaper in the long run than giving him spinach. Then again, I was only 10, so I had no fix on reality yet. Still don’t, as a matter of fact.

Anyway, healthy living is like a collapsible Popeye.

Treat your body right, nurture it with yoga, exercise, and meditation, eat foods that contain life – plants (including spinach), fruits, nuts, seeds, seaweed, algae, and so on, and bingo, what it gives you in return is glowing health, lots of stamina, a bright, buoyant mood, and an immune system equipped to handle even the strongest ailments or disease.

Conversely;

  • put in a lot of dead stuff  – meat, chips, fries, cookies, candy;
  • drink poisons every day, such as alcohol, sodas, and those toxic fruit juices that claim to be good for you, but actually they’re just sugar and food coloring in water; and
  • endanger your lungs with cigarette smoke

and what you’re heading for in most cases is debilitation, disease, and premature aging.  Your body basically just wilts and dies. It has to, you’ve not sustained it in the ways it needs for survival.

I always find it hilarious to watch smokers, especially young ones, sitting around so proudly with cigarettes, sucking in long drafts of carcinogens and expelling them again into the air, imagining as they do so that they look pretty damn cool. When, in fact, the image they’re really presenting to a steadily more conscious world is of a hopeless addict with very low self-respect, and not enough will-power or good sense to quit corroding their insides with toxins.

I mean, do they not watch the news? Every time there’s an apartment fire, how many occupants are carried out on stretchers suffering from smoke inhalation? Smoke in your lungs is lethal if not treated. So why would you subject yourself to it voluntarily? Jeez.

In short, the principle of Body Karma decrees that if you do the right thing you will get the right results and your own personal Popeye won’t collapse.

Which brings me, in a roundabout way, to the California Supreme Court’s decision last week to endorse and uphold the iniquities of Proposition 8 and prevent gay people getting married.

Unlike protestors outside the court and others – my neighbor David Hyde Pierce for one – I’m not angry about the decision. The judges weren’t saying gay people are sinners, outcasts, agents of Beelzebub, and shouldn’t be allowed to get married; they simply decided they couldn’t overturn the majority vote of the California electorate as it stands right now.

Even though Prop 8 was passed mainly due to financial manipulation and scare propaganda put out by those conniving evil bastards at the head of the Mormon Church in Utah (who do believe that gay people are sinners, outcasts, agents of Beelzebub), it nonetheless limped through the system and became law. For now. And until it ceases to be the law, then mere judges are not able to countermand it. That was their point.

It did make me think, though.

Imagine if, a few years ago, when all of this really came to a head, the government had done the right thing and okay’d civil unions for homosexuals. Countrywide, no exceptions, all benefits, all rights. Stopping short of calling it marriage perhaps – that way Christian bigots could sleep easy in their beds, assured that the institution they claim to treasure so much wasn’t in the grip of Satan and his followers after all –  but elevating same-sex couples to the same status as every other normal person in America. 

If that had happened back then, we’d have had equality in everything but name, and probably been satisfied with that. The whole issue may even have subsided for a while.

But the government didn’t do the right thing, did it? It gave in to the religious bullies who use the power of the pulpit to hypnotize the millions in their thrall, and refused to budge an inch.

Now look what’s happened. Because of a few hardnuts playing politics with people’s lives, a time-bomb has started ticking, one that’s going to go off way sooner and with a much bigger bang than it otherwise would have.

Such is the outcry against this continuing injustice; so utterly demonized has Prop 8 become, along with all those who, to their shame, supported it; and so loud and insistent is the drum-beat for change, that gay marriage is coming at us faster than it ever would. Faster, in actual fact, than some of us are really ready for. (I mean, what will I wear?)

Because of the humiliating spasm of outrageous bigotry that Prop 8 represents, it’s my guess that within a couple of years the very thing the combined small minds of the National Organization for Marriage, Miss California, the Mormons, and all their ghastly sort – the real sinners! – have been campaigning against so lustily for so long, may well happen after all. 

Not only that, but to hell with civil unions. Gay folks will probably end up with full rights under the law AND able to call themselves legally “married.” How groovy is that?

It’s karma at work, people.

Feed hate, cruelty, selfishness, fear, and division into the system, and you get massive problems out at the other end. But do what’s right by society, be fair and accepting and kind, and you’re rewarded with justice, harmony, happiness, and calm.  

ChristThese aren’t my ideas, by the way; some guy I read about called Jesus came up with them first. Unfortunately, he was put to death before his time by a different bunch of religious zealots. They too thought they knew what was best for everyone and believed that the weight of their preaching could keep a good set of ideals down. As a result, he became bigger than their narrow, fearful minds could ever have envisioned.

Sadly, it also means we’ll never know what he thought of gay people getting married. My guess is he’d have been for it. Not only for it, but standing on the picket lines, tongue-kissing guys to make a point, and tossing beer-cans at passing Mormons. Jesus was cool that way.

 

TV Swami – he waaaay off-track today. But he say YES to good nutrition and loving one another. Not a bad thought for the weekend.

www.cashpeters.com

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Everyday life in Celebrity Central.

Oh boy, did we strike gold yesterday or what?

Each day a fair number of people stop by to see what the TV Swami is up to, which is nice. But yesterday, thanks to a clever combination of the tag word ‘spanking’ and the names Hayden Christensen and Rachel Bilson, which are like catnip to celebrity-snoopers, apparently, traffic skyrocketed in previously unimagined ways, and was still heading into the stratosphere when I went to bed.

Why is this? Why are we, the general public, even the remotest bit fascinated with a guy in a yellow Mercedes putting the roof of his car down? Truth is: we’re not. At least, not generally. But fame is a magnifying glass and, as boring as it would be if you or I did it, Lord Darth Vader attempting the exact-same thing makes it seem a thousand times more interesting.

Given that I live in a nice, leafy, high-end part of Los Angeles, it’ll come as no surprise to you that our area tends to be Celebrity Central. I often mention it on my BBC broadcast, much to the annoyance of half the audience. We see them all the time.

For instance, Rachel Bilson’s house used to be owned by Noah Wylie, the ER guy. David Hyde-Pierce from Frasier still has the house on the hill. Danny Bonaduce was a neighbor too, until his divorce. Now he’s gone and the stark prison-camp-like house is sold.

Meanwhile, Courtney Love is holed up along the street. Our neighbors claim she came trick or treating a couple of Halloweens ago (then again, they also swear Robert Downey Jnr arrived at their door one night asking for candy, then danced away up the street when he got some – so I’m beginning to think they’re nuts, quite honestly, and not to be trusted!)

Probably our most famous celebrity residents right now, though, are Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. According to several high-level sources (local gossips who can’t keep their mouths shut), they bought the house next door-but-one from David Hyde Pierce. It’s just a tiny fragment of their worldwide network of homes, so of course, if they do actually live there, we never see them, though I must say their Christmas lights last year were a feast of Hollywood self-indulgence. About twenty trees in the grounds and on the house itself, all lit up and visible from miles around. Stunning.  

Anyway, speaking of spotting people, which is the point of this post….

Yesterday, to celebrate the fevered Times-Square-like traffic of the blog, I had lunch at a local cafe. While I’m eating, in walks a black guy swathed in bandages. Poor thing, he’s obviously been in a horrendous accident, because his head’s wrapped up and he’s wearing a big foam neck brace.  Together with another guy, he sits at the table opposite, then – and here’s where things got strange – began chatting away as if he wasn’t hurt. Moving his head. Moving his neck. Getting up, sitting down. Extremely animated. Which was very suspicious, and led me to believe that he wasn’t injured at all and the bandages and neck brace were an affectation to get attention.

But then I realized – there’s a TV studio complex just behind the cafe. It’s where they film General Hospital and also Gray’s Anatomy. So obviously he was an extra on one of those shows. When he left the set, the continuity person must have told him, “Hey – you. You in the neck brace. Don’t take it off.”  He had to keep the pretend dressings on his pretend wounds, or they wouldn’t be able to match them later in the next shot. 

Or, just as likely, this being Hollywood, he kept them on to let people know he’s on TV. It’s so much more discreet than standing up and shouting,  “Everyone, look who’s just walked in – it’s ME. A total non-celebrity. That guy you wouldn’t notice otherwise, from that show you probably don’t watch anyway.”

Of course now I AM going to have to watch the wretched show to see if I can spot him. Hospital set. Guy in background on stretcher with head bandaged. Should be easy enough.  

TV Swami – he say YES to living a few doors down from Brad and Angelina.

www.cashpeters.com

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Rachel Bilson causes BIG problems

As if I don’t have enough to worry about.

We have a celebrity problem in our neighborhood. It’s an infestation really. Too many stars living in a small area. At the top end, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie own the big house on the hill. Then there are the also-rans: the guy who played Jon-Boy in The Waltons lives close by, as do Courtney Love, David Hyde-Pierce, and Michael Feinstein. Alright, not stars per se, but certainly performers whose faces you recognize, even though you might not be able to put a name to them if you met them in Target.

Speaking of which, I came across Angelica Huston pushing a cart around Wholefoods a few weeks ago. I guess she saw me staring at her like Freddy Krueger, because she panicked and veered off up another aisle.

Our current menace in the street is Rachel Bilson. Personally, I couldn’t pick her out from a crowd of one, but Howard Stern nominated her as the “hottest chick” of 2008, and I see her drifting around her driveway sometimes with big celebrity sunglasses on, so at the very least she must think she’s a star. All I know is, she featured alongside Hayden Christensen (the guy who played Darth Vader) in the film Jumpers, which hit number 1 at the US box office last year during a very dull week for movies.

As is normal in Hollywood, the two of them then started dating, and now they’re engaged. Well, the paparazzi are very excited about that. I know this, because the entire street is filled with huge black SUVs, their drivers slumped low behind the wheel, all eyes fixed on Bilson’s driveway.  

Normally, not much goes on in that driveway. If this comes up in court, I will happily testify to that. Now and then, Christensen’s yellow Mercedes will be parked there, and I’ve seen the two of them sitting in it at the curbside, chatting. But usually they have the good sense to do whatever they’re doing that’s so newsworthy – talking! – elsewhere, and the media leave them alone. When she’s home, though, photogs love to be on Bilson Watch. There can be up to ten SUVs parked in the street at any one time, engines running, drivers slumped, watching. waiting for this unremarkable waif to go shopping or collect her mail or open a window or, for God’s sake, please, do something, anything, that US Weekly might buy a photo of.   

Anyway, yesterday I came home to find that something new had happened. A limo had reversed into Bilson’s driveway! (Could this be more exciting?)  The middle-aged chauffeur was standing there staring along the road, unable to believe, like the rest of us, that from one end to the other was nothing but parked SUVs filled with paparazzi waiting to take a photo of her climbing into the limo and driving away. Perhaps the more delinquent among them, those with lots of time on their hands, might then follow her to wherever she was going and pitch camp there instead. It’s such a waste of energy. I mean, who is this woman really? Not a single one of my friends has even heard of her!

Last year, our neighbors and I would call the police regularly to have these vehicles moved on. Initially, we didn’t know they were paps, we thought they were burglars casing the house. Seriously. But after a couple of visits, the cops gave up and stopped coming. You get rid of one pap and three more arrive.

In truth, then, our infestation is not of celebrities, but of photographers. To begin with it was a novelty and quite funny. One time, I walked out of our front door and watched as a black car reversed at high speed from Bilson’s house and screeched to a stop right in front of me, ready to take a picture. In case I was famous, you understand. Then, realizing US Weekly would pay nothing for a snap of me, the desperate driver discarded me like a used tissue, shut his window, and returned to sitting outside Bilson’s house.  

Personally, I wish she’d move. I’m not angry really about the inconvenience this is causing as much as I’m probably jealous that some fly-by-night “hot chick” the majority of people couldn’t put a name to and will have forgotten in two years is getting all the attention and I’m not.

Oh dear, now I feel unimportant.

But hey, wait! Last night, I learned that a guy who worked on my TV show got high on drugs at some point early in the production and committed four vicious rapes in one night. He’s currently in jail for thirty years. Now, I know that’s somebody else and not me, but I chatted with the guy, we hung out a bit at the office before he turned to crime. Doesn’t that make me even a little bit fascinating and worthy of a photo?

Anyone?

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