GIRLS GONE BALD

By BELINDA M. PASCHAL

For the past few weeks, we've been knee-deep in the hoopla surrounding Britney Spears' impromptu head-shaving episode. Without a doubt, the poor girl is 10 pounds of crazy in a five-pound bag, but she's certainly not the first famous woman to bare her noggin.

Traditional standards of femininity dictate that a woman's hair is her crowning glory, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the entertainment business, where what's on top of a woman's skull garners more attention than what's inside it.

Tradition, schmadition, I say. There are numerous follicularly-challenged females who exemplify shear beauty. As proof of this, I present to you my personal Top 10 Hottest and/or Coolest Bald Women in Entertainment, in no particular order:

1. Grace Jones: Pull Up to the Bumper was a big hit for Jones, who pulled up to the barber to become one of the first chrome-domed women in popular music.

2. Lieutenant Ilia in Star Trek: The Motion Picture: Persis Khambatta lopped off her raven locks to portray a Deltan dish who exuded pheromones to attract human males, thus bypassing the expense of Bud Light and ESPN.

3. Evey Hammond: Natalie Portman went all Edward Scissor-head two years ago for this role in V for Vendetta and looked absolutely stunning. Of course, Portman would still be gorgeous with a dead possum atop her head, whereas Donald Trump has never been able to pull off that look.

4. Ellen Ripley, Alien 3: As one of filmdom's few bona-fide female action heroes, Sigourney Weaver kicked butt in this 1992 sequel without the annoyance of a hairstyling posse spritzing her every five minutes to maintain that "I'm all sweaty from fighting a drooling space monster" look.

5. Lt. Jordan O'Neil: Demi Moore rocked a buzz cut as a Navy SEAL in 1997's G.I. Jane. She won rave reviews and dazzled moviegoers — including future hubby Ashton Kutcher, who had to be accompanied by an adult to see this R-rated flick.

6. Sinèad O'Connor: No list of baldy babes would be complete without the controversial Irish rocker who's as well-remembered for shredding a photo of Pope John Paul II on Saturday Night Live as she is for hits like Nothing Compares 2 U.

7. Melissa Etheridge: Wearing her smooth scalp as a badge of courage from her battle with breast cancer, Etheridge stole the show at the 2005 Grammys with a medley of Janis Joplin's Cry Baby/Piece of My Heart.

8. Queen Elizabeth I: While not officially an entertainment figure, Elizabeth of Tudor, who went bald at age 29 due to smallpox, has been portrayed on TV and film, most recently by Helen Mirren on last year's great HBO mini-series.

9. India.Arie: A champion of self-love over societal standards of beauty, she crooned, "I am not my hair/I am not this skin/I am not your expectations," in last year's I Am Not My Hair.

10. Prymaat Conehead: Jane Curtin and Dan Aykroyd as matrimonial companion Beldar were noted for the uniform consistency and gradual diminution of their subcutaneous cranial regions. Yeah, I had to consult a dictionary to understand 'em, too.

Honorable Mention: Jeri Ryan as Seven of Nine in Star Trek: Voyager.

While I applaud the courage of women who break the bonds of conventionality and dare to go bare, I won't be shaving my head any time soon. This isn't merely a matter of vanity; it's just that it would be terribly embarrassing to have Linus mistake my freakishly round noggin for The Great Pumpkin come Halloween.

An ANNA-lysis of Stardom

(click here to view)

Daniel Fenech Feb 15, 2007 EditorialCartoonists.com

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

By the time today’s paper hits the stands, volumes will have been written about the bizarre, untimely death of Anna Nicole Smith. Editorials will have opined, blogs will have blasted, hard-news stories will have reported, and water-cooler conversations will have run from the poignant to the profane.

So, why, you ask, am I giving yet more press to she of the prodigious cleavage and dubious celebrity? Because I’m a writer and for writers, opinions are like crack. Except we’re more than willing to share our stash.

If you’ve read this far, it just goes to show that Smith can draw an audience in death just as she did in life. With no real talent to speak of, Smith nevertheless captivated viewers of her TV show like rubbernecking motorists passing a five-car pileup. Even those who didn’t watch the program know the details. The drugs and the battles with her weight. Her marriage to a 218-year-old billionaire and the subsequent court battles over his fortune. The loss of her 20-year-old son in September, mere days after she gave birth to a daughter, whose uncertain paternity seems to have every potential daddy except Kevin Federline crawling from the woodworks.

Smith, who died Feb. 8, was the object of frequent derision, mocked for her vapidity and tenuous grip on both reality and sobriety. True, she was a glorious mess, a larger-than-life kewpie doll zonked out of her gourd on who-knows-what, a walking punch line who made almost too easy a target. However, methinks the lady was perhaps a wee bit more savvy than she let on. She may not have been a rocket scientist, but she played the fame game well, whether she realized it or not.
Like many of today’s “stars” – for instance, one whose name rhymes with Harris Pilton – Smith was famous for being famous. Though she dabbled in both, she wasn’t an actress or singer in the true sense. A brief, all-but-forgotten-by-the-public modeling career thrust her into the spotlight, but what kept her there? The answer to this question is twofold.

First, Smith’s fame can be attributed to Smith herself. With a seemingly insatiable appetite for attention, she continuously managed to find a way to keep that spotlight aimed in her direction, even if it meant being the butt of the joke. According to her mother, Smith once said, “If my name is out there in the news, good or bad doesn’t matter, good or bad I make money, so I’m going to do whatever it takes.”

While other celebs play cat-and-mouse with the media, Smith virtually served herself up on a platter, proclaiming, “Come and get it!” And the press, public and paparazzi devoured every crumb.

Which brings me to the second, larger reason why Smith continued – and will continue – to make headlines long after her 15 minutes expired. That reason is US. Smith appealed to the Peeping Tom in us all, the spectator who pities the train wreck victim, but is glad it’s not him or her.

Those who denounced her as “tacky,” “cheap” and various epithets not fit to print did so while gawking at the tragedy of her life. In the end, that says more about our culture of voyeurism and fascination with fame than it does about Smith herself.

AND THE INVITEES ARE ...

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

While Will Smith is gettin’ jiggy with it at some A-list post-Oscar bash, those of us whose invitations got lost in the mail will have to rely on our own creativity if we want to party like the glitterati.

Film awards season is upon us, kicked off by the Golden Globes and Screen Actors Guild (SAG) ceremonies, and culminating with the granddaddy of all awards shows, the 79th Annual Academy Awards.

With the Oscars less than a month away, movie lovers are planning gatherings to see who’ll take home the coveted statuettes and who’ll graciously smile through clenched teeth while claiming, "It was an honor just to be nominated."

But why have just an ordinary Sunday night get-together when you can transform your humble abode into a celeb-worthy hotspot? Here are a few tips for hosting your own award-winning Oscar-palooza:

* Play dress up. – Within reason, of course. Unless you’ve booked, say, the Schuster Center for a bona fide black-tie affair, don’t make the dress code too stringent. Tuxes and tails are nice, but don’t turn your nose up at a guest who opts for the classic tuxedo T-shirt instead. It could be worse – he could show up dressed as Oscar. Ever tried to clean bronzer from your upholstery? (Don’t ask.) Not to mention that Oscar is anatomically incorrect and that’s just …well, creepy.

* Treat your guests as if they are actually at the Academy Awards. – In other words, pander shamelessly to those who might be of use to you in the future. Just kidding. We’re talking red carpet at the door, name cards on their chairs and such. (But save the best seats for the really important people. Just in case.)

* Do a shot each time host Ellen DeGeneres makes a goofy face. – Sure, you’ll be snockered before the first commercial break, but you’ll be a lot happier sitting through the awards no one cares about.

* See how many "Golden Globes" and "SAG" jokes you and your guests can derive from the often-revealing dresses worn by Oscar attendees.

* Serve snacks with themes devoted to the nominees. – For instance, mini-crumpets for The Queen. Or Peeps bunnies in little hats for The Illusionist. (Good luck finding ‘em – wabbit-hunting season is still a couple of months away.). For The Most Overhyped Overrated Film – oops, I mean Best Adapted Screenplay, Borat? A big fat ham. Yo-ho-ho and a platter of rum balls for Pirates of The Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest! And for Costume Design nominee Marie Antoinette, let them eat cake!

Of course, the snacks are purely for show, since eating doesn’t seem to be a popular trend in Hollywood.

* During the pre-show, have your guests make their own Oscar predictions. Make a ballot or print the one at http://www.oscar.com/nominees and see who makes the most correct choices. The winner receives an IOU for a DVD of the Best Picture.

Last but not least, don’t forget the loser. Should I be invited to any parties (hint, hint), I assure you this person will be me, as I have broken my former habit of seeing most or all of the Best Picture nominees. It’ll be an honor to receive my IOU for a VHS copy of Borat.

EVERYTHING'S COMING UP, ROSIE

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

She was like, "Who died and made you the boss?"
And he was all, "Hey, shut up!"
So she goes, "You got stupid hair!"
Then he was like, "Well, you’re fat!"
And she was all, "Duhhh!"
So, he goes, "Barbara said she hates you, too!"
And she was like, "Nuh-uhn!"

Ladies and gentlemen, what you have just witnessed might appear to be an argument between any two fourth-graders on any playground of any elementary school in Anytown, USA, as recapped by any one of their classmates. Actually, it’s nothing quite so sophisticated.

Nay, the above verbal exchange is my paraphrased version a well-publicized celebrity feud I’ve taken to calling "Donald Trump vs. Rosie O’Donnell: Beyond Thunderdome."

O’Donnell started a war of words last month on The View when she blasted Trump for allowing Miss USA Tara Conner to keep her title, which was in jeopardy because of underage drinking and other misconduct. (Trump owns the Miss Universe Organization, which includes Miss USA and Miss Teen USA.) In addition to criticizing his decision, O’Donnell questioned Trump’s business acumen and cited his romantic history as proof that he has no place acting as "the moral compass for 20-year-olds in America."

Aside from never wanting to visualize The Donald in any sort of romantic situation – well, maybe a tryst with a really good hairdresser – I couldn’t care less about the guy’s personal life. And I’m not gonna hate on homeboy’s business skillz ‘cos he’s managed to bank some crazy loot, so he’s obviously not too shabby in that arena.

I’m not a card-carrying member of Camp Trump, but I give the guy props for having the cojones to stick by his decision – be it good or bad – to give Conner a second chance. He’s been steadfastly unapologetic and I respect that. It’s too bad he weakened his position in this grudge match by responding to Ro’s rant with childish, no-brainer insults like "loser," "dumb," "fat" and "disgusting."

I’m not entirely anti-Rosie, either. In fact, I used to be quite a fan. I loved her as an up-and-coming comic with shoulder pads almost as huge as her fluffy 1980s perm. I loved her in A League of Their Own, Sleepless in Seattle and Harriet the Spy. The Flintstones in Viva Rock Vegas? OK, not so much.

But since joining The View, O’Donnell has become the schoolyard bully, picking on-air fights with high-profile personalities. In addition to targeting Trump, she has pontificated on Oprah Winfrey’s sexuality and accused Kelly Ripa of "outing" singer Clay Aiken. Last I heard, Aiken hadn’t publicly declared a major, so to speak. So when O’Donnell pointed a finger of blame at Ripa, she obviously overlooked the four fingers pointing back at her.

And that’s precisely my gripe with Rosie these days: She’s become everything she accuses Trump of being – a blowhard, a bag of hot wind, obsessed, and most annoyingly, a self-appointed moral compass. To use the vernacular, she’s something of a player-hater.

Fans of O’Donnell’s previous talk show were thrilled to learn she was returning to daytime TV. Now, many of them are saying, "You know, that Star Jones wasn’t so bad, after all." That can’t be good.

To Rosie and The Donald, I say it’s past time to bury the hatchet, even if it’s in each other’s heads. Don’t go away mad … just go away. Kiss and make up so The View can once again become what it should be – a place for Danny DeVito to hang out when he’s drunk.

IT'S WRITTEN IN THE STARS

By Belinda M. Paschal
DDN'S ANSWER TO MISS CLEO

So this is 2007 ... another year over and a new one just begun. 2006 was a topsy-turvy year in entertainment, with many celebs garnering more press for their personal lives than their professions. At times, it was a veritable zoo, with such attractions as a TomKat, Snakes on a Plane and the most loathsome beast of all, the bloodthirsty paparazzi (known in the scientific world as Camerus Obnoxius).

Ashlee Simpson got her nose done, Tara Reid got her boobs re-done and Michael Richards came undone. Britney finally realized K-Fed was toxic, Whitney stopped saving all her love for Bobby and Paris Hilton's single, Stars Are Blind, proved that stars also are tone-deaf. Justin Timberlake brought sexy back, while Madonna went to Africa and brought a baby back. Lindsay Lohan went blonde, brunette and off the deep end.

What antics will we bear witness to in 2007? Here are some of my predictions for the next 360 days in the lives of The Beautiful People:

• Mel Gibson will convert to Judaism and proclaim that the Australians are the cause of all the wars in the world. An angry Russell Crowe will assault him with a cell phone.

• Nicole Richie will reach her goal of slimming down to her original weight: Six pounds, five ounces.

• Lindsay Lohan will drop out of AA when she realizes it doesn't offer emergency roadside service.

• Continuing her penchant for wearing no undies with dresses cut down to her Mason-Dixon line, Britney Spears will single-handedly bring un-sexy back.

• After 13 years of false starts, Guns N' Roses will finally release their new album, Chinese Democracy. The world will be thrown off its axis by the collective yawn of millions of music fans.

• Sean Combs will give up this whole Puffy-Diddy business and change his name to an unpronounceable symbol.

• Rosie O'Donnell will realize that sometimes, silence really is golden. In other news, hell will freeze over.

• Donald Trump will discover a small child living in his hair. Angelina Jolie and Madonna will fight to the death to adopt it.

• Rebounding from the cancellation of If I Did It, Here's How, O.J. Simpson will pen a second book, I Wonder if That Guy in My Mirror Can Help Me Find the Real Killers?

• Hollywood psychics are predicting a son for Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. Rumors and speculation will run wild when the birth coincides with the inexplicable reappearance of a 96-year-old L. Ron Hubbard.

• Michael Jackson will continue to alter his appearance until reaching his dream of being a human replica of Edvard Munch's painting The Scream.

• Dakota Fanning will assail two audience members at a movie preview with such insults as "poopyhead" and "fartface." A toxicology screen will reveal she was hopped up on Red Bull and Skittles.

• Paris Hilton will: a) Flee the scene of an auto accident; b) Get hauled in for DUI; c) Say something moronic. In other words, the same stuff she did in 2006.

And last, but certainly not least, Time magazine will name me as Person of the Year. Hey, it could happen ... after all, they already chose You.

The Year in Review REVUE

By BELINDA M. PASCHAL

It's the most wonderful time of the year
Looking back on newsmakers, the movers and shakers
Who perked up our ears
It's the most wonderful time of the year!

It's the hap-happiest season, you know
When we review the news -- oh, that crazy Tom Cruise
Gave us quite a freak show
It's the hap-happiest season, you know!

When TomKat had a baby, some folks thought that maybe
Young Suri just didn't exist
Then Cruise married Holmes in a wedding near Rome
And left Oprah off the guest list!

'Twas a most productive year, so it seems
The stork brought Brangelina another bambina
Soon, they’ll have their own team
'Twas a most productive year, so it seems!

Britney's life was a train wreck, but she regained some respect
By finally dumping K-Fed
Then she dressed very scanty (but forgot her panties)
And partied with Paris instead!

It's a most interesting look at this year
Nicole Richie got thinner … someone, please buy her dinner
Lest she disappear
It's a most interesting look at this year

Lindsay Lohan got wasted, then finally faced it
And checked herself into A.A.
There was hardly a blink when Lance Bass of NSYNC
Announced to us that he was gay!

'Twas a year of star breakups, it's true
Pam and hubby Kid Rock -- well, now there's a big shock
Nick and Jessica, too
'Twas a year of star breakups, it's true!

There were meltdowns from hell -- first an actor named Mel
Put his true colors on full display
Gibson claimed that the booze made him slander the Jews
No excuse for his acting that way!

Then the guy who played Kramer, he blamed it on anger
When his mouth got him into a mess
Caused a helluva scandal; a pro would've handled
A heckler with much more finesse!

Looking back at this star-studded year
At the highs and the lows, Ashlee Simpson’s new nose
It’s abundantly clear
There’ll be even more star turns next year!

THAT'S THE JINGLE BELL SCHLOCK

BY BELINDA M. PASCHAL

Christmas music – I love it as much as the next person. Classic choral arrangements, standards like Bing Crosby’s White Christmas, R&B gems like Donny Hathaway’s This Christmas and many of the better pop covers of the last couple decades.

I’ll admit to singing along with Alabama’s contrived tearjerker, Christmas Shoes, more than a few times and even Gayla Peevey’s I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas can’t dampen my holiday spirit. But I absolutely draw the line at Elmo & Patsy’s 1984 hit Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer. Sure, it was funny the first time I heard it. Then I sobered up.

Don’t get me wrong – novelty songs can be funny and deserving of a place in the canon of comedic Christmas carols. Case in point: Bob and Doug Mackenzie’s Twelve Days of Christmas. (You can’t help but love a song in which the first day’s gift is beer.)

However, some songs should come with an expiration date; still others should never even see the light of day. Take, for instance, Jingle Bells Boogie by the Jingle Dogs. You know, the one with dogs barking to the tune of Jingle Bells.

Now, I’ve got nothing against Jingle Bells … when sung by humans. But if I were trapped on a deserted island with no music other than the Jingle Dogs’ version, I would hollow out my own leg and use it as a canoe to escape this torture. That goes double for anything by the Jingle Cats. Folks, please have your pets spayed or neutered before they’re old enough to sign a recording contract.

While the Jingle critters make me long for hermetically sealed ears, they pale in comparison to Rosie O’Donnell’s A Rosie Christmas and Another Rosie Christmas, released in 1999 and 2000, respectively. Not even a respectable roster of bona fide musical talent including Elton John, Lauryn Hill, Gloria Estefan, Trisha Yearwood, Jewel and Celine Dion can make up for this felonious assault on the ears.

On the second album, The Mouth That Roared teams with the Dixie Chicks on Merry Christmas from the Family, inarguably the only holiday song to mention tampons.

Other "Too Awful to Be Real, But They Are" tunes:

* Even Squeaky Fromme Likes Christmas – The Rev. Glen Armstrong. ‘Cos nothing says "holiday spirit" like a gun-wielding Charles Manson devotee (Lynette "Squeaky" Fromme) who tried to assassinate President Gerald Ford in 1975.

* Here Comes Santa – Joe Pesci. Yep, that Joe Pesci. Before becoming an actor, he was an aspiring singer who called himself Little Joe Ritchie. You think he’s funny? Like he’s a clown? You will when you hear this song.

* Santa Doesn't Smoke Anymore – Uncle Larry Nestor. Apparently, St. Nick voted NO on Issue 4 and YES on Issue 5.

These are just a drop in the bucket of horrendous Christmas songs. Here’s a quick shout-out to Hanukkah/Chanukah, which comes with its own medley of musical missteps:

* Hanukkah Rocks – Gefilte Joe & The Fish, billed the world’s only Jewish senior-citizen rock band! In other words, the American version of the Rolling Stones!

* The Dreidel Song – The Christmas Chicks & The Fowlharmonic Symphony featuring The Kosher Chickens. No, seriously.

On that note, there’s only one thing I have to add regarding the final two entries: Oy to the world!