In Los Angeles, people are agog over the continually unfolding story of private eye Anthony Pellicano. A recently uncovered police tape captured the gumshoe boasting about his celebrity clients and the practices, such as secretly taping phone calls, that have got him in trouble. Vanity Fair is all over this one, you can bet -- just wait a few more issues.
Also in LA, a man successfully got a court order to stop his elderly father from transferring any more money to a Nigerian bank scam. Ironically:
The elder Gottschalk, a neuroscientist, gained national prominence in 1987 by announcing that President Reagan had been suffering from diminished mental ability as early as 1980.
Chip off the old block eh?
Kate Braverman's feverish memoir-slash-circus act "Frantic Transmissions To and From Los Angeles" -- a friend called it "prose poetry," which only begins to capture the roiling, chaotic character of the book -- is reviewed in the Village Voice -- I really liked the reviewer's line "Need every sunset sound so toxic?" Meanwhile, bloggers keep cheerfully reporting her blurts and bon mots. This is one situation in which the very worthy work itself is being drowned out by the author's force of personality, but since there is no such thing as bad publicity, and Braverman herself has absolutely nothing to lose, there's no real reason for her to hold back, is there? (Previously: in June '05, K.B. was already taking no prisoners.)
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