Yeah, I was at Dennis Rodman's 40th-birthday party at his crib last Saturday. Me and The Worm. You're in good hands, party people.
But let me clarify. I wasn't actually hanging with Rodman. I wasn't actually inside his Balboa Peninsula digs. Nor was I actually invited. In fact, I didn't even try to talk my way in; there's nothing worse than playing “Do You Know Who I Am?” with someone who doesn't.
I was one of the police-estimated 200 uninvited (when I was there, it was more like 50) guests who hung out on the sand, watching delightedly as the pretty blondes writhed around next to the Groove 100.3 DJ up on the balcony and pretended to be bisexual. Hey, I know! You wiggle, and I'll lingeringly feel you up! Then all the boys will like us! Oh, how we laughed and laughed at them!
It was a lovely day. Though we missed the set by Live, during which they sang their crunchy-hippie song about dolphins crying (something that should only be attempted by 11-year-old girls in unicorn shirts), the cloud cover eased people's hangovers rather than subjecting them to a blistering May sun, and we sat on lawn chairs and listened to the DJ scratch through Nelly's “Ride Wit Me.“ It's a fantastically poppy song I dig very much—especially the poignant lyric, “Running credit checks with no shame now”—but there wasn't quite enough of an MTV Beach Partyvibe (the blondes were the only ones writhing; everyone on the sand was hanging out quietly) to make it anything short of ridiculous when the DJ muted the chorus so everyone could shout along with “Must be the money,” and the only people who did were the blondes. Must be the money, indeed, ladies. The Worm should probably have imported some more sorority girls.
The fuzz were surprisingly mellow, just hanging out near the shore and watching the goings-on from atop cool ATCs—until, of course, they broke the party up (with some of the cops in their much-loved fetish—um, I mean “riot”—gear) at about 4:30 p.m. Reports in the LA Times and The Orange County Register focused on police displeasure with the noise and Rodman's helicopter entrance, but that came hours before they shooed everyone along. Also, they were worried people might drink on the beach, which is preposterous; we all had to go blocks away to our colleague Scott's house to get a much-needed beer.
The heat have responded to Rodman's house more than 70 times since he relocated to our fair county. Mr. Rodman: Might I recommend a move to Snoop Town? Nobody ever breaks up our parties here, except of course when anarchists are brandishing bottles of pee.
I called Surfin' Congressman Dana Rohrabacher at home to find out more about his buddy former Steely Dan lead guitarist Skunk Baxter's new gig with the Department of Defense. The first time I saw Baxter was onstage at the Republicans' March 2000 Election Night shindig. Dana had taken the stage to ramble about the Strategic Defense Initiative but soon introduced Baxter as his big expert. It was a treat, but not as much as the girl who peed herself later that same night. (“The Girl Who Peed Herself,” March 17, 2000.)
On this day, with Election Night 2000 just a faded memory, I was hoping the member (of Congress) would hear me on his machine; go, “Hey, it's Commie Girl”; set down his bong; and run to the phone. But apparently, he was already hard at work, giving some ambassador or other (I wasn't really listening) a tour of Surf City's outstanding water-reclamation plant, so I called him on his cell phone. With shit turning to solid gold in the background, I asked Dana to give me a quote other than the one I'd seen in Monday's Register. See? Reporting!
“Skunk's been a consultant for the Pentagon for five or six years now; they hired him at several major departments because he's an out-of-the-box thinker. He's about as imaginative and expansionary in his thinking as anyone I've ever met,” Rohrabacher told me, which was indeed a different quote from what I'd read in the Reg. But all the talk about imaginations and expansionary thinking got me back on the topic of bongs again.
So what exactly is the beret-wearing, ponytailed, Republican, former Doobie Brother's new gig at the Pentagon? “He plays in their war games, for example,” Rohrabacher explained. “They have teams with all the weapons systems available, and he always finds new strategies [for killing and maiming lots and lots of people].”
Commie Girl: Can I play in their war games?The Member: No. Please?
No.
Jim Rogan, a House manager in the impeachment of President Bill Clinton, will speak at the 9 a.m. breakfast meeting of the Rush Limbaugh Club on Saturday at the Holiday Inn, 25205 La Paz Rd., Laguna Hills. It costs $17, including breakfast. Don't you think you should go? For reservations and information, call (949) 366-1901. Who're you calling a commie? co**********@ho*****.com">Co**********@ho*****.com.
