I am more interested in your dinner at Streisands house...

Marlon Brando, who was a friend of mine, took me (as defense, really, against the slathering hordes). Barbara Streisand was completely rude, ungracious, and unwelcoming to me -- probably due to the fact that even stars were starstruck by Marlon, and they were all distressed to have me there, taking away from their precious moments with him. Streisand most rudely seated him at the head of the table, and me, his guest, at the other end, next to Travolta, who was incapable of saying a word that wasn't laser focused on himself -- even when I spoke about stuff like "my carburetor guy" as a test. Other guests were Travolta's fellow scientology automaton and wifelet, Kelly Preston, and James Brolin and his kid, Josh Brolin, who seemed to be the only relatively normal human being there. It was an incredible exercise in Hollywood anthropology.

I think you've just illustrated why the rest of the country feels absolutely no connection with Hollywood these day - and these people deign to tell us poor, benighted souls what they think about world events?

We're a long way from the days when Paul Newman and Charlton Heston (yes, before he went off the deep end with the NRA) marched with King.

La Streisand's utter contempt for anybody else and utter worship of herself is legendary, isn't it? I'm no Hollywood insider but I've heard the stories... ostentatiously tossing surplus food from the craft table in the garbage after she's just been told that a group of hungry extras has requested it.... refusing to continue with a TV interview unless she's permitted to direct the lighting cameraman... etc etc...

She's the most graceless, ungracious host I've ever encountered.

But really, if you must drop names, perhaps you should spell them correctly. I know I get quite huffy when people pronounce or spell my name incorrectly, and I am not nearly as recognizeable as Barbra.

I would have loved to meet Brando. Mutiny on the Bounty is one of my all time favorite movies, and the first thing I would have asked him is whether he really clocked Trevor Howard in that famous scene. He seemed like such a nice old guy in his later movies, particuarly Don Juan de Marco and also The Freshman, where he did a magnificent parody of himself as The Godfather.

I think I'll have a Brando movie festival this week...

Isa clearly thinks Hollywood stars are very, very important people, not simply people who, largely, got better chins than most.

Au contraire! I merely pointed out the fact that you spelled her name incorrectly. Do I sense a modicum of defense? It's okay--we all make mistakes, dear!

You suggested I was "name-dropping." Perhaps you don't know what the term means.

I'm afraid I must parry this back to you-- you mentioned your dinner party at her home, not me! The fact that you felt compelled to mention her specifically by name instead of stating that is was at a dinner party is the very definition of name dropping !
(Name Dropping: To mention casually the names of illustrious or famous people in order to imply that one is on familiar terms with them, intended as a means of self-promotion.)

I suggest you look up the meaning of "imply." Right after you reread and try to comprehend the definition that you posted. Allow me to help:

I DID go to a dinner party at her house, and I DID go with Marlon Brando, who was a close friend of mine, and quite some time ago. I only mentioned it now in connection with this ugly "garden" which resembles hers -- the same way I use other visuals as jumping off points. There's a name for what likely causes this, and I believe it's ADHD. I drop, not names, but Ritalin for it.

I don't consider Barbra Streisand admirable. I consider her a tiny little person with a big voice. And bad taste in flower gardens.

OK!

So an old guy walks into confessional.

He says "Father, today I bedded two of the most beautiful young women I have ever met at the same time! I am 78, but I performed like a 24 year old stud! They both left hours later in total amazement and complete shock, totally satisfied."

The priest thought about this, and offered "Say ten hail Mary's and offer an act of contrition, my son."

The old man replied "Father, I can't do that, I'm Jewish."

Incredulous the Priest asked "Well why are you telling me about all this then?"

The old man replied "I'm tellin' everybody."

The moral of the story: If Brando invited you to a party, tell everyone.