I feel obligated to draw your attention to Hearne Christopher’s column on page 3. As we teased last week, Hearne was able to track down former Hollywood madam Heidi Fleiss.
Hearne and Heidi have somewhat of a history. Not like that. History as in Hearne did a column on her (I should probably say about her, not on her) years ago while he was writing his wildly popular column for his former favorite newspaper, the Kansas City Star. So when Heidi’s former lover Tom Sizemore died recently, and Heidi’s name flashed back in the news, Hearne sought her out for a follow-up of sorts. There were rumors Heidi was hiding out somewhere in rural Missouri with her collection of live birds. But Hearne found her in the state of Nevada. You’ll want to read this week’s column for more details.
Anyway, it’s still early and the competition is still young, but Hearne gathered The Landmark quote of the year thus far. It’s in his column this week. Heidi, the former madam to the stars of Hollywood, the lady who ran an upscale prostitution ring, wants you to know she is not into “weirdo shit, that’s disgusting.”
I’ve read the quote a dozen times and laughed out loud every time. Because I’m sophomoric like that.
Kudos to the former leader of a prostitution ring for drawing the line before, you know, things get weird. Lol.
My buddy Guy Speckman is gonna be really mad when he plans a night out to dine at the new airport and once he gets there finds out he’ll need a plane ticket to get to the area with the restaurants.
Gonna be an expensive date night. I hope he reads this before he heads that way.
Hearne Christopher did a fine job getting quotes from Heidi Fleiss. He landed another gem when he asked Heidi about Jackson Mahomes, the infamous TikTok’er with the recognizable last name.
“I saw the video of Patrick’s brother,” she says. “Tom sent me a video of Jackson Mahomes dancing and said, ‘You’ve got to see this.’ We were cracking up. There’s one in every family.”
Heidi Fleiss says there’s one Jackson Mahomes in every family. So at your next family reunion, take a look around the room. If you don’t see a Jackson Mahomes, you are the Jackson Mahomes.
By the way, Hearne is tracking down/working to secure a conversation with the alleged victim in the most recent case of alleged Jackson Mahomes douchebaggery.
It’s March Madness time. For real. Mentioned it briefly last week but now it’s serious. The big tournament tips off Thursday morning and the next four days will be wall-to-wall college basketball, if you’re into that sort of thing. Note to my boss: I will not be in the office Thursday. Note to my people: I will not be in the office Thursday. You may or may not be able to find me in a legal public setting that has many large televisions.
My email inbox is always open, however.
Foley’s Final Four: Arizona, Duke, Houston, UCLA.
Foley’s Forecasted Champion: Houston.
Time for the next chapter in the story of the recent drive home from Tennessee for my wife and yours truly on Presidents’ Day. We ended chapter one by telling you we were at a stop light at the end of an exit ramp at I-70 and Hwy. 54 (Kingdom City) exit, roughly 30 miles from Columbia. My wife was driving. We were stopped at a red light. We were the first car in line, waiting for the light to turn green for a left hand turn. The light turned green, and I started looking to the right, checking out what was on the opposite side of the interstate from where we were headed.
Things seemed cool until I heard my wife say “Ohhh, that guy is . . . .” and the sound of a solid collision began. I never saw it coming. When the movement stopped, I was fine. Since the collision was on her side of the car, I wasn’t as sure about my wife. As anyone would do in that situation, I jumped out of the car like a bat out of hell, running around the front side of the vehicle toward her door. I noticed the other guy, a young driver probably very early 20s, open his door and set one foot outside his car door before he assumed a defensive posture and ducked back inside. I later he realized he must have thought I was heading to engage in a discussion with him. I wasn’t, I was heading to check on my wife. There wasn’t much space between the two vehicles after the crash but I was able to crack the door open 10-12 inches. Her head had struck the side window. I dialed 9-1-1 to report the crash while starting a conversation with her so I could get a feel for where she was mentally. There was no blood and no noticeable bump but I didn’t like the look in her eye or the sound of her voice, so when the 9-1-1 operator asked if an ambulance was needed I answered affirmatively.
About this time the young driver again steps one foot out of his car and says “So what do we do, exchange insurance information?” I looked at my wife’s car, which I was confident would be considered totaled, and told him this one’s not that simple. I let him know 9-1-1 had been called and ‘suggested’ that he not move his car until the authorities arrive. About that time an aggressive-talking female walks upon the scene, seemingly out of nowhere, and says: “Hey, traffic is backing up, can we push these two cars out of the way and let these other cars get through?” It took me a second but I soon realized who she was. She was one of two panhandlers–one male, one female–I had noticed on the side of the road at the traffic light a few minutes earlier. I commented to her that it certainly was unfortunate that a two-car crash had invaded her work space, then suggested she should move her mobile office to a new location because “no one is moving these cars until the police get here.”
It’s the story that just won’t end. We’ll wrap it up with a final chapter next time. Next up: Two witnesses impressively drive back to the scene to report what they saw.
(Discuss March Madness or any topic with Foley at email@example.com)