Whether in Court or on the Court, Rodman Likes to Play Hardball
To cross-dressing basketball star Dennis Rodman, it’s evidently a case of something old, something new, something borrowed and something sued. His Hairness is taking an L.A.-based collectibles maker to court, claiming the firm manufactured and sold a Dennis Rodman Wedding Dress Doll without his permission. I dunno--maybe he didn’t like the gown.
HEY! EASY ON THE HOT WAX! Phil Proctor, the column’s Beverly Hills bureau chief, found a carwash that ought to cool it a bit, judging from the marquee (see photo).
OF DOOMSDAYS PAST: Earthlings elsewhere might have been shaken by the report that an asteroid could plunk into the planet in the year 2028. But the report--which was discounted by scientists the next day, naturally--probably didn’t faze veteran Angelenos, who are used to living through various doomsdays.
A decade ago, for example, someone interpreted the 16th century French seer Nostradamus as predicting the Big One would slam into L.A. in a couple of days.
Two Phoenix disc jockeys, explaining they were eager to create “oceanfront property in Arizona,” came west to Venice Beach, accompanied by four 250-pound-plus men. The Big Four, as they were called, performed jumping jacks on the beach on the appointed day to rev up the tectonic forces.
No Big (or even Small) One hit. Further proof of my contention that Nostradamus was a joker, not a seer.
TULIPS AND DAFFINESS: Neil Korpinen of Summerland came upon a flowery warning in--you guessed it--Beverly Hills (see photo). I’d love to see a warning like that posted in downtown Manhattan. Even Nostradamus could predict what would happen.
HOW CAN THE AD WRITER SLEEP AT NIGHT? A bumpy mattress ad on the radio was called to my attention by R.M. Jones of Rancho Cucamonga. It “extols the virtues of the product, then closes the ad with, ‘You have nothing to lose but a good night’s sleep.’ ” Added Jones: “I don’t think I’ll be buying a mattress that practically guarantees I’ll lose sleep!”
I love slogans that are unintentionally nonsensical. For months, a downtown L.A. condo complex displayed a big banner that informed passersby: “If you can read this sign, you’d be home now.” Every time I read it I failed to understand why it still took me an additional 45 minutes to get home. Finally, the sign was changed to, “If you lived here, you’d be home now.”
DO NOT WRITE THAT FORTUNE COOKIE MESSAGE: This one’s almost as good as the mythical fortune cookie message that said, “Help! I’m being held prisoner in a fortune cookie factory.” Toluca Lake publicist Paul Marsh says he “received a call from a restaurant in Chinatown requesting my services. After we lunched and concluded an agreement, I opened my fortune cookie and read this message: ‘Do Not Trust a New Acquaintance You Have Just Met.’ ”
Marsh said, “I’m glad I didn’t pay any attention to the warning because we had a nice business relationship.” He added: “Incidentally, the restaurant owner fired the cookie company.”
miscelLAny:
Dr. Robert Kotler, a plastic surgeon in tulip-loving Beverly Hills, issued a press release saying that his “collagen clinic will be open until midnight on March 21!” Why, for heaven’s sake? Because “you want to look your very best--without wrinkles or thin lips--on Oscar night!” If you go to his clinic, I won’t tell anyone. My lips are sealed.
Steve Harvey can be reached by phone at (213) 237-7083, by fax at (213) 237-4712, by e-mail at steve.harvey@latimes.com and by mail at Metro, L.A. Times, Times Mirror Square, L.A. 90053.
