In Antichrist, the new Lars Von Trier movie, Willem Defoe's balls are banged and then Charlotte Gainsbourg jerks him off until he cums blood. (Lane Brown describes it much "better" but I thought the quicker you read that without dwelling the better.) That's a weird thing to do and also not very nice (at least the first half). Defending himself to an angry journalist Von Triers said, "It's the hand of God... And I am the best film director in the world. I'm not sure if God is the best God in the world." Needless to say, Maradona and the entire nation of Argentina objected.

Then there's Bob Dylan whose video of a hot girl being beaten up (and also beating up) a balding man (played by Eliot Spitzer!) then kissing him passionately, was a partnership with the Independent Film Channel. Whatever happened to the Dylan from Nashville Skyline? That guy was so sweet!

So! Here's the question: why all of a sudden are middle-aged to elderly white men interested in depicting women perpetrating violence against men and then either handjobbing or kissing them? Is it a function of the bleak economic landscape or perhaps, Kink's MeninPain.com has finally penetrated popular culture.

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Co-curated by E! Online columnist Marc Malkin and Steven Corfe, the Dollypop exhibition featured over 40 artists, all of whom answered their call for Dolly art with a certain fervor. "We were actually surprised actually how responsive people were when we just told them, 'Dolly Parton,'" said Steve. "There's a lot of closet Dolly fans out there."

Of course, an event such as this inspires people to pay homage. So, it was appropriate that we were greeted by a Dolly Door Girl.

Inside, we were seeing double and triple Dolly's.

There were even look-a-likes for other celebrities who seemed to have gotten lost. There was a Rick James look-a-like, and a Sophia Loren dead ringer that had us completely confused for five minutes.

James St. James interviewed some of them for his show on WOW TV. (I thought I was hallucinating and seeing New York club kid Richie Rich's body double, and then, realized OMG, it kind of was Richie Rich's body double!)

No detail went unnoticed. Pink champagne (what else?) was served.

Some guy with a contraption on his head was hanging out and taking in the Dolly art. [Ed. Note - That's the TMZ "Dollhouse Dude".]

These dudes just turned up. I'm supposing this is just par for the course in Hollywood.

Did I mention, there were roosters?

"We rented them!" said Marc Malkin, brightly.

Malkin and Corfin have been working on the show for about six months. But Marc insists he's not obsessed.

"I'm not obsessed!" he says. "I know some people would say I'm obsessed since I did a show. But I'm not a crazy kooky travel around the world type. I just love her."

Steve points out: "Yes, but he has butterfly tattoos!" (Butterflies=Dolly fan).

"But they have nothing to do with her! They don't!"

Suuuuuurrrrre.

Malkin bought a piece by Jason Kronenwald; you'd never know it looking at it, but the piece is made entirely with chewed up pieces of bubblegum. This is not gross and is, in fact, quite beautiful. I failed to capture a proper photograph. I am sorry, dear readers.

Dolly's iconic look serves as easy fodder for artists. Her big, open grin, bright blue eyes and blonde hair, make it easy to pull off optical illusion pieces such at this one. (Different cosmetic items comprise her face).

Her infamous visage lends itself to other icons and iconic homages. So we got Dolly as a stand-in for other icons.

Dolly as Elvis:

Warholian Dolly:

Dolly as Lisa Marie in Marrs Attacks and Dolly as Glenda the Good Witch:

Other pieces were less pop and more poignant, like this blue Dolly:

Other pieces tried to play with her own iconographic visual language, instead on transposing her to something else.

Scott explained Dolly's universal appeal, thus: "It's the fact that she sooooo fake and nipped and tucked and bewigged and made up and yet so real."

Flash forward nearly 30 years. In order to support the film's release, three of the original members of the Germs (including former Nirvana/Foo Fighters guitarist Pat Smear) have been playing shows around town with Shane West, the ER hunk who portrays Crash in the flick. I saw one of the shows the new-and-improved Germs played this weekend, and I'm here to answer a few pressing questions, like: Did they suck? Did Shane West suck? Would people bleed? How hot was Bijou Phillips?

There were quite a few of 30-something ex-punks in the crowd at the Echo Saturday night that wanted to find out.

To answer the question I posed above, no, they didn't suck. In fact, they are probably better now than during their heyday in the sense that they can actually play their instruments and they are able to finish an hour-and-a-half set without destroying the entire venue, falling down from abusing too many substances or bleeding profusely on stage.

However, this presented a bit of a conundrum for the fans. The seminal LA punk band was "good" precisely because they were bad. Their gigs were famed for the way they destroyed the stage and incited near-riots. The fact that they could barely play their instruments just added to the air of excitement, danger and unpredictability of a Germs show. So, when compared to this lofty standard, the 2008 iteration wasn't exactly bad, but they certainly weren't punk rock. Though, they tried.

Pat Smear still rocked it.

These kids were totally in to it.

There was stuff scrawled on Shane West's (deliciously rock-hard) stomach. I have no idea what it said, because I was too distracted counting his abs.

West went for some Jack Daniels realness.

West's hotness, however, did not serve him live. To compare West's two performances— in the film and on the stage— is an instruction on what makes an actor a compelling person to watch on film, versus what makes a live performance transcendent and visceral.

Another guy had a more succinct solution."You know what would be totally punk rock?" he announced to no one in particular, "If someone would just punch him in the face. Like, bust his nose." He pounded his fist into his hands. He meant it in a totally nice way. What he meant, is that West was too Hollywood pretty for a punk band. Especially considering the fact that he committed the worst of Punk Rock Sins. He smiled. There is no smiling at a Germs show!

In fact, they were all smiling.

So was Bijou Phillips, who played Germs bass player Lorna Doom in the flick. She spent the duration of the show dancing like a go-go girl on the side of the stage, leading my cohort, an entirely naive and innocent 20-year-old fresh off the boat to LA, to ask, "Why was there a Calvin Klein model on the stage the whole time?" I had no plausible answer for him.

• What We Do Is Secret

But for all the artists who have been jumping on the Obama bandwagon of late, there's one artist who has been dedicating his time to making art about the politician long before it was trendy. Ray Noland, aka Cro (Creative Rescue Organization), presented a blink-and-you'll-miss-it show at the HVW8 Gallery last weekend. Tag along as I take you on a quick-run through the inspiring exhibition.

The Chicago-based artist began his Obama pieces in 2006 when he was bed-bound after a severe biking accident. Moved after reading Obama's first book, Dreams of My Father, Noland set about making the works that comprise his Go Tell Mama! project. Since then, he's traveled around the country hitting up primary campaign spots with his multimedia/multiplatform installations. Obama himself even came down to his Raleigh exhibition. Says Noland: "He came to the Raleigh show with David Axelrod and Michelle Obama," he said. "They stayed for a while. They seemed overwhelmed. There were 20 cameras and paparazzi and they were looking at a show of Barack Obama-inspired work. They mentioned stuff they got a kick out of—like, the Michelle Obama piece. They really loved it."

Here's the artist himself, Ray Noland (middle).

It is not a proper art opening without a DJ and a bucket of free beer.

The show offered just a taste of his work. The most memorable of the portraits features Obama looking straight ahead, as if he's looking right into your eyes. It's bright and colorful, and incorporates the campaign's own official insignia in the letter O.

The graphics are clear and eye-catching, and some of the language on the pieces read like slogans—so it's not surprising to learn that Noland spent some time working in the advertising world, as well as cutting his teeth designing rave and hip-hop flyers in the 90s.

Now that Obama has moved into the general election, Noland is calling his roving art project the "Got Next!" campaign. It's filled with basketball metaphors and imagery (a tip to Obama's love of the sport). The show at the HVW8 Gallery on Spaulding spanned several formats, including animated video (a collaboration with Rebecca Berdel), his own photography, and dramatic, black stencil art burned into the walls.



It should be mentioned that 10 percent of the proceeds are donated to the campaign; the rest of the funds keep Noland's traveling show going. Sadly, this was just a two-day affair that's already left town as you are reading this. However, if you are headed to the DNC in Denver this month, you can see him at a giant collective Obama art show, Manifest Hope.

Bonus: Here's an interview with the artist as a young man.

Unfortunately, our first visit to Gjelina only got worse from there.

At least the restaurant itself was nice to look at.

The main room had black walls with flowery engravements, offset by rich, warm wood.

They used wine bottles as decoration in another back room, with empty bottles comprising a dramatic chandelier.

The outside area was a mix of luxe and laid back, with a dramatic opening to the sky, offset by the architecture's clean lines and softened by billowing trees.

A fireplace burned in the center.

The bathroom's were even nice—old timey white tiles with dark wood touches. And you turned on the faucet with a giant wheel.

The kitchen was viewable through a long rectangular window. From our vantage point we could see a number of very hot blond surfer/skater type men working diligently away. We made a mental note to sit at the table underneath the window next time.

That is, if there was a next time.

The buffalo mozzarella appetizer finally arrived 45 minutes after we ordered it and, surprisingly, it didn't disappoint. But as my companion said, "You can't fuck up fresh buffalo mozzarella." However, they would have several other opportunities to screw up. First, the fries: they were overly salty and very small. It was as if we got the last bits at the bottom of the batch. Fail. The artichokes arrived and they also tasted like they had been doused in a bucket of salt. (Side note — don't drink wine and eat artichokes at the same time. It creates a very bad chemical reaction in your mouth and makes the wine taste like crap.)

The plate that was to be the pièce de résistance—the pork belly— was lukewarm and not as crispy as advertised and, shocker (!), too salty. My friend and I realized that this was the last of our dishes. She looked over at me, and said, "Is this the kind of place where we spend $100 and are still so hungry we have to go to the taco truck afterwards?" Yes. sadly, it seemed it was.

But because I am nothing if not fair (and nice!), I went back a second time with a different friend. Our ditzy blonde waitress was replaced by a flirty, dark-haired hunk (major improvement!), who, when we asked him about dessert, said, lustily, "Oooooooh, yes, they are allllll verrrrryyyyyy gooood." We made him talk about the desserts at least three times. We were seated closer to the Window of Hot Chefs and next to the fire pit, which had distinct advantages (it caused our waiter, during his second recital of the dessert menu to say, "Oooh my ass is on fire!" which was amusing), and disadvantages (one side of our face was burning up.) This time, the food and service was better; the asparagus came with egg and parmesan cheese, a surprisingly good combination.

And, I should note, this time it wasn't too salty. The albacore tuna carpaccio-concoction was just right, and the margarita pizza was light and crisp; it was almost like eating a fancy, well-made cracker.

And the dessert? Soooo gooood. Some sort of butterscotch pecan goodness with a lime-like infusion in the whip cream. I left substantially fuller than the first time. Of course, this could be because I ate an entire plate of fettucine alfredo before leaving my house. So, verdict: Though it's improving in quality and service, Gjelina is still a place where you will spend $100 and leave hungry. But at least it's pretty!

As an ex-New Yorker who is brand spanking new to L.A., the concept of downtown being a dead zone is quite strange. And having only driven through late at night (going the wrong way, on a one-way street, natch) I was curious to see what an L.A. downtown art walk would be like (held every second Thursday of the month from 12 to 9). Art Walks in Seattle’s Pioneer Square were fun, but were too often filled with "Look ma, I has knitted you a rainbow hat!"—a/k/a bad hippie art. And the Chelsea Art Walks in NYC were impenetrable and thick with snobbery and unintentional comedy: rich people wearing all black, posing seriously in front of pictures with their heads cocked just so to the sides. L.A.’s version proved to be far more pleasant and interesting—exhilarating even. Won't you join along as I take you on a photographic tour?

A fellow recently-imported New Yorker joined me via the red line subway, which she reported “was clean and pleasant, with no rats, and not too many people,” and arrived unscathed at our meeting place on Fifth and Main at the Spring Arts Collective Gallery, where the highlight (for me anyway), was a Cabbage Patch doll’s decapitated head in a cage by Kim Ye, and a series of twisted paintings where all the twee-looking subjects appeared to be peeing at the adjacent Clair Obscur Gallery.

That artist, Mari Araki, was part of an exhibit called Storybook Paintings. Also in that collection, were a series of extremely well done Tim Burton-esque fantasy paintings by Dany Paragouteva that seemed like they should be in a strange children’s book.

Around the corner, there was a room with eerie red lighting; and string of drawings formed a narrow hallway, which led to… a guy playing a harp. There were a cluster of beat up TVs, improbably, old toy Gizmos.

Said a guy sitting nearby, “Come back at 8:30, it’ll all come together.” We found out later this was the Soul or System. (Get it? Solar system! Or Soul system! Gah.)

Down the street we found a few huge photo realistic paintings. One was a close up of a hand being scorched by a lighter. The color was dark and rich and very carefully done. Then we noticed a man sitting in a rusty chair next to the paintings; he looked like he was part of the exhibit. It turned out to be the artist himself, Josh Talbott, who explained that he had done all the large painting in a studio in New York when he was hobbled with a broken leg, and then had to ship the monsters out to L.A.

The best collection was the LA Art Girl’s at the Phantom Gallery. For one thing, there was a unicorn.

There was also a giant gas mask.

And there was this piece (we couldn't figure out who did it.)

There was also a fundraising 'garage sale' called Selling In by Felis Stella (of which the proceeds went to Alzheimer's Association and the Cancer Research Institute). For sale: "Grandma's sewing machine."

This female-centric show was miles better than the one titled, "Where The Girls Are," featuring tiles of overexposed Dita Von Teese and a "performance art" piece by Tiffany Trenda called "Death of an Icon," in which she dances to Madonna's "Open Your Heart" video and then gets shot. The piece ends when a curator puts a card next to the bleeding artist and calls it a work of art. Just, no.

We made our way around to the other street, and found a clusterfuck of people on the sidewalks. It was after 7 by now, and the area was starting to fill up. There was a guy playing the sax next to a giant skull; a few feet away, a guy and his friend got to work redecorating a sofa with spraypaint and markers.

We were lured into one place with the promise that spoken word poetry by people from Greenwich Village would be on offer; instead, it seemed to be a community meeting about the overabundance of police in Skid Row. Next door, an exhibition of homeless art was mostly bad, except for a few pieces, including those of Darlene Altemeier.

Off the beaten path, a sidewalk sign with an arrow led us to Crewest, a pretty fab all-things-graffiti subculture shop. They had a minimalist funk band jamming the back room; someone doing screenprints; and a smorgasbord of interesting, politicized anti-police art, including the biting piece of commentary above and at right.

Last, but not least, the store Pussy & Pooch had an exhibition in its back room of cool animal paintings—like this pug.

But that, it turned out, was not the piece de resistance. That turned out to be cuts of fake lawn that you can buy from Petapotty.com, in case you don't have a yard. They can come complete with a hydrant.

Here's a Petapotty in action.

And with that image, I bid you adieu!

• 'Sex and the City' and 'Flight of Conchords' fans go out on the town in style [LAT]

Last month, regulators took control of three companies that make up the heart of the Cassitys' holdings. Government agencies in at least 10 states are trying to sort out what happened. Their attention is focused on one unsexy, but lucrative part of the sprawling firm — prepaid funerals. This was Forever's financial engine, spinning off cash and powering the promises of change.

Regulators are trying to determine if enough money remains to honor the prepaid funerals of perhaps 100,000 people, including 46,000 in Missouri. The funeral industry has not seen an emerging scandal like this in years.

Fans of the Cinespia screening series need not worry: The 2008 season will proceed as scheduled, with Saturday night's opener of The Party. But are there larger troubles afoot for the eternal resting place of Johnny Ramone? We'd hate to think what would happen if the lovingly restored grounds were to fall into the wrong hands, snapped up by salivating Grove and Americana developers Caruso Affiliated for a monstrous transformation into their latest trolleytastic shopping experience, The Crypt at Santa Monica Blvd.

• Hollywood Forever: Six Feet Under? [LAist]

ROB REINER SAME SEX MARRIAGE STATEMENT

"Our nation was founded on the principle that all people are created equal. Today's decision is a huge step toward fulfilling that promise.

"Celebration is certainly called for, but the fight for equality is far from over.

"Court decisions may guarantee equality under the law, but the real struggle is for the tolerance of our fellow Americans.

"This decision by a majority-Republican court signals that it's time to put this kind of discrimination and bigotry behind us.

"Unfortunately, not everyone will hear the court's message. Already, here is a campaign being organized to overturn this decision at the ballot box. Californians must put an end to this sort of cynical and divisive politics once and for all.

"California has led our nation so many times before. I hope that once again we set an example that the nation will follow."

This concludes Meathead's statement on the California gay marriage ruling. Defamer Fun Fact: Rob Reiner is the spitting image of our Uncle Harvey, a dentist from Toronto. We're not even kidding! It's like they were separated at birth!

• Previously: We Do! [Defamer]

Correspondent: Gay men and women, as of 30 minutes ago, may now get married in california, with NO restrictions.
Defamer: When might that change?
Correspondent: If the Supreme Court of the United States overturns this.
Defamer: What are the chances of that happening?
Correspondent: This is unlikely to happen as it's a state issue, i.e., there's nothing in the state or U.S. constitution prohibiting gay marriage, so you'd have to get an amendment to one of those. That will in most likelihood not happen. It takes a tremendous amount of effort to ratify an amendment.
Defamer: Yay! Will you marry us?
Correspondent: No.
Defamer: Sad face.
Correspondent: But you can marry anyone you like now—man, or woman.
Defamer: Happy face!

• California Supreme Court overturns gay marriage ban [LAT]

In drawing upon predictable stereotypes, Steinhauer presumes that food is not in itself political. While we stupid Angelenos fail to notice real issues like architectural blights on our skyline or the mismanagement of municipal funds, the food-obsessed have rallied around something as inconsequential as taco "carts."

Steinhauer at once minimizes the gravity of the issue and the accompanying call-to-arms while also failing to recognize that food plays a significant role in dispensing culture. And in a place as complex as L.A., food is the first, if not only, ambassador that enables communication between disparate and varied communities.

Yes, taco trucks are about as authentic or integral to Mexican cuisine as bacon-wrapped hot dogs from a mini cart. But like those hot dog carts—which are a far cry from the NYC street carts that Steinhauer must be used to—they are but one representation of the resourcefulness and fortitude that sustain L.A.'s immigrant communities.

Yeah! Who you calling "loath to rally," NY Times? This from a newspaper whose recent, L.A.-based crack investigative work includes, "As 'American Idol' Fans Cheer, A Geppetto Pulls the Strings", and "Amidst the Engineered Reality of L.A.'s The Grove, A Real You." Angelenos care! About a lot of stuff—not just parking restrictions. When's the last time a New Yorker got a rubber bullet in the neck at an immigrants' rights demonstration? Or a Hummer over the foot protesting at the Bronson Gate? Or faced down an evil Japanese dolphin fisherman?
What do we want?!
Tacos and a bunch of other stuff!
When do we want them?!
NOW!!!

• This Angeleno ain't so mild [blogs-losangeles.metromix.com via EaterLA]

• Fun From Yesterday! [mightygodking.com via BestWeekEver.tv]

Now that a local promotional trio has obtained his signed blessing, created his myspace presence and sold out his T-shirt likeness in boutiques such as Kitson, ready the ethical protest from family and homeless activists:

Mr. Jermyn's slide into homelessness is a painful subject for his sister Beverly. And so is the clothing deal. She believes "The Crazy Robertson" founders are exploiting her brother's condition to build their brand. "I think these guys saw an opportunity and they took it," she says. "I am not happy with the arrangement."

Ms. Jermyn, who lives close to the alley where Mr. Jermyn sleeps, says her brother has a form of schizophrenia. He refuses to take medication, she says, despite suffering from fits of shouting and cursing. In the years since his condition began deteriorating in the late 1970s, "he slipped through my fingers like sand," says Ms. Jermyn, 64, who manages facilities for Oracle Corp.

No matter which side of the ethical fence you fall regarding the Homeless, Spandex-Clad Robertson Blvd Dancing Rollerblader brand the kids are buying these days (exploitative? opportunistic?), we must all come to consensus on one point at the dinner table: John Wesley Jermyn's spandex-clad rollerdancing prowess knows no equal.

• In West L.A., A Homeless Man Inspires New Brand [WSJ]

Dear Grove Neighbor:

The holidays are our favorite time of year at The Grove, a time for sharing, counting our blessings and enjoying special time with family and friends. Our plans for the holidays begin months in advance to create a beautiful yet fanciful environment to delight our guests of all ages.

As our Grove neighbor, we would like to take a moment to personally inform you and your family that our Grove Holiday Tree Lighting Ceremony will be taking place on Sunday, November 18, 2007. We invite you to join us in the celebration, which is complimentary and open to the public. The festivities are planned to take place between 7:00pm and 9:30pm, and will include fireworks, music and dance performances by a variety of entertainers. It is our utmost desire to provide a safe, festive, and entertaining environment for all guests who will be attending the ceremony. It is of equal importance to us that our neighbors are informed of the event details so planning for the night may take place.

Festive invites notwithstanding, the neighbors are surely grateful for the "Avoid this neighborhood at all costs November 18; don't say we didn't warn you" closing line. The gallery below offers a glimpse at the amount of (boxed) ornaments required to decorate The Grove's massive Christmas tree; here's hoping the whole thing doesn't go up in an Al Qaedal blaze of glory this holiday season [LAT].

Special Bonus Photo: Hollywood and Highland's reaction to the "set it up now and be prepared" school of thought.

And while there were many memorable costumes on parade, we'd like you to pay special attention to the Transexualformers at the 1:09 mark, whom, we think, could really jazz up the sequel to the Michael Bay blockbuster, with envelope-pushing sequences such as when Margeautron takes Optimus aside to demonstrate the proper execution of an exhaust pipe tuck.

• Halloween Carnaval

The Best Week Ever blog has pulled the above clip from Sunset Tan, E!'s latest documentary-style celebration of all that is glorious about life in our somewhat image-conscious city. Be appalled if you must that a doting mom would drop $1300 on having her daughter irradiated and spray-tanned to a hue favored by Lindsay Lohan; we, however, are disgusted only that the parent didn't march her neglected child over to Dr. 90210's office for an on-camera consultation for the pre-teen breast augmentation that's wildly popular in fifth-grade classrooms this year, or, at the very least, a quick Restylane treatment to preemptively paralyze the various facial muscles that will soon rob her of her youthful good looks.

• UNEMPLOYMENT CHECK: This Video Contains All Of The Reasons Why Our Society Is Doomed [BWE]
• Sunset Tan [E! Online]

[*As dumb as this conceit is, we're still not gonna make the bitch joke. Even though we suspect that the existence of this object—even more than the Paris Hilton stuff and the wildfires— is a sure sign the Reckoning is finally upon us.]

• Doggie Style: Cell Phones, Webcams and GPS for Hounds [Wired via Gizmodo]
• PetsCell [PetsMobility]