Elvis kin are all shook up
I don’t know Deborah Presley Brando.
She’s referred to as Elvis’ eldest and possibly out of wedlock daughter.
She married Marlon’s son, the late Christian Brando.
I only know this lady asked her Beverly Hills p.r. guy Ed Lozzi for spiritual seer John Cohan’s number.
Why? She knew Lozzi knew him. She then called Cohan twice. Sent countless texts venting on this and that. Requested a reading. Asked about his fees.
He says: “She knew of some of my experiences with Elvis. We talked. She vented on assorted situations. I never gave her a reading. After awhile I just didn’t answer whenever she reached out.”
He tells me: “I bring this up because at Priscilla Presley’s recent book signing, Priscilla was in shock when Deborah showed up. Right in front of her. In one of our phone talks, Deborah had quoted her to me, saying: ‘I spoke to Lisa Marie Presley on the phone and Lisa told me, ‘You mean nothing to me, in my life.’”
Cohan said he’ll take a lie detector test to all this being Deborah Presley Brando’s own words.
He says, “She’s even written a book. It’s out, only not in bookstores. So where it is, this I don’t know. I do know she spells her personal close p.r. man Lozzi as ‘Lozzie.’”
Urban market
The hills are alive with the sounds of ka-ching again.
Midtown, at Benny John’s Bar and Grill, Paul Shaffer (remember him from late-night shows?) inhaled filet mignon, fries, creamed spinach, homemade panna cotta and cheesecake.
Kaia Wine Bar, Third near 91st, is South African. Our Town columnist Arlene Kayatt discovered rhyming Baya Bar moved in next door.
Now, side-by-side there’s red wine, bobotie (South African spiced beef, egg custard), an acai smoothie, Coco Loco coconut bowl, Baya Blues smoothie, plus a banana, protein, granola coconut shavings, peanut butter koa bowl, plus Dik Snit Spek — thick bacon and tomato chutney.
Lotsa luck.
Entering H’wood’s happy hour
Nice happy movies trudging our way. Comes now another “Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes.” William H. Macy: “I play consigliere to the head ape.” See? And you thought apes only had bananas.
Plus the happy Monk movie called “Mr. Monk’s Last Case: A Monk Movie.” Tony Shalhoub: “It’s about Monk giving up. He’s in a dark hole. Suicidal.” Really heartwarming.
To buy for’s
The city I love: Realty professionals just noticed an NYC brick building leaning. Dangerously shifting.
Fearing it’s near collapse, they called the known to them correct emergency number and reported it.
No report acted upon. Nothing done. The building’s still leaning.
Tradespeople — carpenters, plumbers, masons — no longer rushing into the US.
Some summoned hastily to help in some need-to-be completed cases, are less-skilled workers hired to finish quick projects.
Skilled pros who have subsequently assessed this less-skilled work pronounce it shoddy. Unsafe.
Meanwhile, we have homeless people and vagrants, along with migrants and tyrants, the wealthy 57th Street big-time merchants — where big spenders go and large money runs — are pouring in big-time cash.
Tiffany peeled off billions. Dior redid itself. Burberry? Now rejuicing its building. The base budget was $50 mil. It upped to $60 mil. It’s now at $100 mil.
That’s while people are starving.
And not only in New York, kids, not only in New York.
