Howdy doo, bandwagon Clippers fans!
It’s only sort of kind of an entertainment story, but perhaps I should start with a word about Donald “F*ck Donald Sterling” Sterling.
I. A Word About Donald Sterling. Since Los Angeles has no NFL team, and hockey is hockey, and it was proven in the ’90’s that there is literally no legal way to make baseball interesting, the NBA is the reigning sport here. Seriously–I’ve been to the Oscars, but the most celebrities I’ve ever seen in one place was at a Lakers game. When the Lakers were good, I mean, not this year’s The Replacements Lakers.
So the fact that Sterling was never able to make Clippers games a scene was one of many red flags prior to his meltdown tape. In honor of his shape, let’s call it The Smoking Gunt. Remember, Hollywood is populated almost exclusively by rustlers, cutthroats, murderers, bounty hunters, desperados, mugs, pugs, thugs, nitwits, halfwits, dimwits, vipers, snipers, con men, Indian agents, Mexican bandits, muggers, buggerers, bushwackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass kickers, shit kickers, Methodists and bloggers. That these people were able to feel superior to Sterling–in most cases, correctly–indicates the sort of fetid vas deferens he really is.
By contrast–and in spite of the fact that, as Frotcast guest Paul Shirley noted, the average billionaire is disgustinger than the average Hollywood denizen–former (i.e., dead) Lakers owner Jerry Buss was beloved by celebrities, fans and a prized demographic I like to call The Ladies (many of whom were ignominiously thrown under the Buss). His son runs the team now. Unaffectionately known as Tommy Boy, Buss Jr. might eventually make Sterling look like a paragon of eptitude.
Back To That Law Sh*t. Point of the column. Right. Couple of things to note about L’affaire Sterling:
1. Sterling’s girlfriend/amanuensis/muse may not have broken the law. V. Stiviano (apparently named after the world’s greatest miniseries–one that may provide insight regarding her skill set)
…has been roundly criticized for surreptitiously recording Sterling while, in the privacy of his own home, he hated black people. Noted thespian Kareem Abdul Jabbar likened her to “a sexy nanny playing ‘pin the fried chicken on the Sambo.'” Not sure what that means, but now I’m hungry and way, way turned on.
California is a two-party consent state, meaning, it is illegal to record a conversation that might reasonably be deemed “private” without the consent of both participants. However, Stiviano’s lawyer claims that Sterling was, in fact, aware that he was being recorded. Unless it was Stiviano who leaked the recording and she was contractually obligated to keep such recordings confidential, she may be in the clear. Plus, it’s possible that the recording could be considered her intellectual property, aka V’s IP. We may all owe her an apology. Especially Kareem.
2. Sterling started out as a lawyer. F*ck. But then, so did the man who banished him, Adam “The Caucasian Kareem” Silver.
It’s a kafkaesque profession, possibly because Kafka started out as a lawyer too.
3. Strike a Depose, There’s Nothing To It. It has been noted that Sterling was once sued for racist slumlordery. His greatest contribution to my love of the legal profession, however, was the deposition he gave in a 2003 lawsuit against a former mistress (naturally, after he had previously claimed under oath that he never had sex with the woman). In this instance, “mistress” is actually a euphemism, insofar as he admitted to paying her for sex. Say what you want about the guy, but seriously, say what you want, he’s a f*cksock.
Highlights abound–Sterling not knowing the name of the “Mile High Club”; Sterling inadvertently creating the mantra, “Money for sex is not a gift” [strikes gong]; MC DS dropping the dope verse, “It was purely sex for money, money for sex, sex for money, money for sex.” But I think we see an attorney reaching the zenith of his legal career by asking Sterling the following question:
For all of you, like Vincess, who talk about how glad you are that you never went to law school, I defy you to find a natural high at your job that matches the exchange above. Plus, for a whoremongering racist, you just know that “sucking me on the way to Mr. Koon’s house” is code for something really gnarly.
II. Tyrion on Trial. Back to sort-of movies, Tyrion Lannister still awaits his day in court, or whatever you call it when your dad is one of the judges. Meanwhile, vindictive haver of usually-consensual sex with her other brother Cersei attempts to ensure Tyrion’s execution by kissing up to the three judges who will be determining his fate. She is convinced of his guilt by the evidence of her not having thought this through. Regardless, one might consider this jury tampering, although the Westeros Constitution has established a demonstrably f*cked up judicial system, so it’s probably OK.
III. Hilawrity. The Hollywood Reporter makes an annual list of entertainment “Power Lawyers.” This year’s list does not include your humble narrator, to which I say, eat me very much, poor man’s Variety. They included some of the lawyers’ favorite alleged jokes. For example, we get this dollop of levity from litigator Marty Singer (who represents Bryan “No Relation” Singer and Tarantino):
“Why won’t sharks attack lawyers?
Mother of god. That joke is so old it used to own slaves. Hey Hollywood Reporter, know what the real joke is? Your me-less list, twatmops.