Sly Stone in Vanity Fair

Sirs, Madames,

Sly was the worst "concert" I ever saw. Ten minutes of incoherent stoned Stone ... I can't really say that there was a song in there. Helped off the stage.

Just bought There's a Riot the other day. It stands up. So do the Greatest packages.

YHS, etc

 

Sat in the sportsbook at the MGM on a Saturday next to Bootsie Collins, three years ago. He was betting football but his primary passion was the horses. He dropped large coin that day.

 

Christ, Vanity Fair has more stories that sound wicked awesome in principle and read poopy in practice than any other magazine.

 

Mr Pancamo,

Tell me Bootzilla had a Rubber Band round his diminishing roll.

Wish they had him on The Hollywood Squares. He was Sly for Saturday morning cartoons.

YHS, etc

 

Winner, winner, Yonge Street dinner.

 

Damn, that will teach me to not run spell check! Thanks for catching it!

 

Somebody has to pay the salaries of James Wolcott and Maureen Orth and all those other big folks over there. I read the real reporting in that magazine and skip over the 32 page photo spreads of Suri Cruise and the long winded articles about Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are a perfectly normal, happy couple.

 

Are you saying....they're not?

 

Sly lives about 10 minutes from me. See him all the time on that goofy-ass chopper. As a fan of the music but uneducated about the whole persona, I didn't know he was such a recluse. I could have saved David Kamp a hell of a lot of angst -- all he had to do was hang out at the backwoods convenience store down the road and he was bound to see him going in for a pack of smokes or a six-pack.

 

Well, he's a closet case who believes in a space alien religion. She's a young gal who became a Stepford wife because her career was cooling off. They strike me as probably two of the most miserable people alive...if either one of them had a shred of self-awareness, they would commit suicide or run screaming down the street, tearing at their clothes.