bookofjoe

Kid Rock, official rock star of bookofjoe, arrested for assault

What's this?

Apparently Kid Rock got into a contretemps earlier today in Nashville, Tennessee.

He punched out a strip club D.J. around 3 a.m. this morning after one of Kid's friends was "disrespected" by D.J. Jerry Campos.

Kid, in his always–diplomatic fashion, asked the D.J. to apologize for a poor choice of words.

When Campos refused, Kid hammered him twice in the face.

Police were summoned but when they showed up to arrest him, Kid and another "well-known entertainer" fled through the back door of another strip club.

The cops finally caught up with him at 7 a.m. today at an apartment near Vanderbilt University where Kid was staying while he was in town to perform the song "I Saw the Light" during a memorial service yesterday for songwriter Merle Kilgore at Ryman Auditorium.

He was booked on a charge of simple assault and released from custody at 10:15 a.m. after posting $3,000 bond.

"Everything is wonderful, it was a beautiful night," he said as he left the Nashville Criminal Justice Center.

Well.

I'm sure he can handle this with his own resources.

But I must say I am just a wee bit disappointed in Kid.

I recall something my dentist told me one day while I was sitting in the chair waiting for the local to take effect.

He was a big-time high school football star back in the day.

His coach used to tell the team, "Nothing good happens after midnight."

I concur.

Kid should have been cozily tucked into bed with a good book last night, just like I was, instead of out running around in Nashville strip clubs.

I better have a word with him in private.

Impulse control issues get a little hazy after you've been a rock star for a while.

I've done my best to deal with them, but it's a recurrent bugaboo.

As Joe Walsh put it, "It's hard to leave when you can't find the door."

Lindsay Lohan Barbie Doll — Plastic Fantastic

Pretty awesome achievement, I'd say.

I mean, she's only 18, barely legal, and she's now an American Icon, if not an Idol.

I don't see any bookofjoe-type Ken doll out there, after all.

But hey, no sour grapes here.

I'll just enjoy the official roll-out of Ms. Plastic Fantastic this coming Sunday at the annual American International Toy Fair in New York.

Lindsay Barbie is dressed to the nines, in full red-carpet splendor, what with an elegant beige dress and a (faux — doh!)–fur–trimmed coat.

The doll comes complete with a director's chair — 'cause you know it's only a matter of time till she decides to direct her own film — and her very own velvet rope, to keep [the] hoi polloi at a safe remove.

You'll be able to buy one come June for $30.

Her new movie, "Herbie: Fully Loaded," an update of the Disney story about a VW Beetle, just wrapped.

I guarantee you Paris Hilton's knickers (if she wore any, the antithesis of which has been previously demonstrated in exquisite detail elsewhere — hey, sillyhead, this is Version 2.0, remember?) are in a twist at this latest Lindsay news.

Paris is enraged — some say burning — at the audacity of Playboy magazine taking a picture of her — without even asking, the nerve! — and slapping it on the cover of its latest issue.

Next thing you know, some loser ex-boyfriend of hers will surface with a videotape of the two of them frolicking.

You know how something like that can derail a promising career.

June Taylor's Still–Room: Artisanal Jams and Conserves

This past Sunday's New York Times magazine featured a piece by Amanda Hesser on master preserve maker June Taylor of Berkeley, California.

She makes her preserves the old-fashioned way, using esoteric, mostly organic fruits, all from California.

She makes her jams in small batches in large pots so they cook rapidly and reach the gel point before they taste cooked.

Taylor uses only the fruit's natural pectin and adds less sugar than most recipes.

Each year she and her assistant, Magali Hernandez, produce 20,000 jars, all cooked and packed by hand.

After reading Taylor's recipe for Grapefruit-and-Meyer-Lemon Marmalade, it seemed to me that $11 for an 8 oz. jar was entirely reasonable.

FunFact: Taylor calls her workshop the Still-Room after the name for the preserving room in old English manor houses.

20Q: 20 Questions goes electronic

Think of an object and this device will ask you 20 yes–or–no questions and then guess the item.

The Wall Street Journal reviewed it and said it's awfully good.

AI in a ball.

Runs on 2 AAA batteries (included).

For ages 8 and up, so I guess we're OK. Barely.

$14.98 here.

MorphWorld: Natasha Richardson into Kim Cattrall

Richardson opens in "A Streetcar Named Desire" next month at The RoundaboutTheatreCompany at Studio 54 in New York.

She's growing to resemble her mother, Vanessa Redgrave, more with each passing decade.

Cattrall looks better every year.

Must be the salubrious effect of all the money from "Sex and the City" on her complexion.

'Course, with Samantha, there are always other considerations....

Cordarounds

Take corduroy pants, rotate the weave 90°, and you've got Cordarounds.

Chris Lindland invented them; Enrique Landa's his business partner.

When their men's pants showed up online last month, they sold out in two weeks.

The pants ($88) come in Olive, Ink Blue and Toffee, with whimsical contrasting prints lining the waistband and pockets.

They're now creating Cordarounds for women.

[via Michael Krantz and the New York Times]

The Problem of Sentences — by Linda Gregg

A sentence is an idea. An idea with urgency.
A feeling for the sun before it rises.
The imagination loves the wall of a building,
loves the floor and the square window
that looks out on it. The scent of jasmine
is how the plant climbs up the wall
built by the Knights of Rhodes.
But the sentence stresses the meaning,
making us notice an unruly jasmine against
the orderly stone wall. We say our bus
went down through the village of the insane,
or that the eucalyptus trees were tall.
That we saw a man dragging a big branch.
The sun will return whether you smile or cry,
clap or burn candles. But when I say whether,
the sentence may be thinking, Even so.

A knitted room

Residents of Strathaven Home for the Elderly in Hobart, Tasmania decided to create a 1950s living room in which everything — the window, the rural view out the window, the plants, an umbrella, the cups and saucers, a GE radio, Wellington boots, even an Elvis album half-out of its sleeve, is knitted.

It's called The Knitting Room.

Residents gather once a week to create whatever additions strike their fancy.

If it were in New York or LA instead of Tasmania, this room would fill a gallery and the show would sell out.

Awesome stuff.

The ABC Tasmania website even has an interview with some of the knitters.

[via SK]