By Dana Miller

I guess it's all about some degrees of separation. Ten years ago in 1996 I hosted a reception for an artist who was sponsored by comedienne Roseanne. She called me to host the event because she believed the art to be important and emotional. We held a showing of Charlie Wolfe's provocative images on the third floor of the APLA David Geffen Center on Vine Street. His art was all about sexual victims and molestation -- very troubling stuff. I asked Leeza Gibbons who was at Entertainment Tonight at the time for a favor -- to cover it on the tube. She did, though now she doesn't remember it. That's what covering a million stories will do to you. Cut to 2006. Leeza and I are working in the same room, next to one another on a project. Completely random. Totally out of nowhere she receives an e-mail via her Web page last week from a guy who had remembered her story on ET covering the art show. He was desperate to track down Roseanne to let her know that his buddy Charlie the artist has just passed on. He was just taking a shot in the dark figuring everyone in Hollywood must know one another and was having no luck trying to reach the comedienne's office. Leeza hands it to me and asks if I remember this event. This is where it gets good. For no real reason and without much planning, the weekend before Leeza even received the e-mail I had gone down south to see Roseanne perform at a comedy club and after the performance discussed old times and that artist's show she had sponsored 10 years prior. I mean what are the odds of all this crashing together? Ten years after the fact I'm hanging with Leeza and Roseanne and talking up odd art the identical week the artist passes. 3,650 days had gone by with no mention of any of it, and it all comes flowing back the same week. Hell, that's like no degree of separation. I let Roseanne know of Charlie Wolfe's passing this week. Ah, the convergence of our tiny universe.

Like a peripatetic prick, I was everywhere this week. My friend Jessica Weiner had a party at the Griddle on Sunset one night to celebrate the publication of her new book, Do I Look Fat in This? It was waffles and Bloody Marys and a total blast. After reading Jess' tome I'm certain I would rather be fat than disagreeable, but with an ounce of effort there really is no need to be either. We hit Mark's Restaurant on a Friday night to check out Upright, the cabaret show I had enjoyed over the holidaze. It was again packed, the talent was hit and miss, and it went on far, far too long but I will continue to support it because I'm pleased a real effort is being made by producers Shane and Chris to cultivate and feature the musical genre. They are apparently planning two shows there in February. After show tunes our gaggle of geese mounted a pub-crawl and landed at O-Bar, Gold Coast and Fubar. It was all strangely too much and yet way too little.

I've always liked actor Chad Allen and now he's a movie star with End of the Spear, a tale of missionaries in the jungles of Ecuador. Chad has been on a mission against crystal meth in our community for awhile now and speaks with startling authority on the subject. He's sweet, smart, handsome, talented, successful, and making a difference. He's a bit of a rarity in our village.

On the subject of good folks, I was invited down to Torrance last week for the announcement party that Honda would sponsor the Black Eyed Peas first American headlining tour this spring. After the tour they will all split off for solo projects. This talented group has sold something like 16 million records but, honestly, has remained humble, thankful and wonderfully spiritual. They put on a sensational acoustic concert for a couple hundred Honda associates. Don't ya love to see the nice ones win? I wish that was an insisted element of the criteria, but sadly it ain't.

As I write this, former President Gerald Ford is scheduled to be released from the hospital in Rancho Mirage. He's 92 and has lived a blessed life. He was never actually elected to the presidency, and I, like most Americans, never thought much of him or his time in office. Here is a political lifer who pardoned Nixon after both Dick and Agnew were tossed out. Instead of jail Nixon was given a walk in the park, an office, staff, postage for his eternity, Secret Service protection and $182,000 a year for life. Ford asked lawmakers to give Nixon $800k in "transitional" expenses to move down to San Clemente but, pissed by the pardon, our rabid representatives slashed it to $200k. What has always bugged me about Ford took place after he left office. That's when he made a living off of personal appearances. That's it. He would show up at parties from New York to Beaver Creek, Palm Springs to Pittsburgh for cash. Neither speeches, nor think tanks. Parties! Five, 10, or 15 grand a night. Rich people paid a fee to have a former president show up at their parties. I watched a couple of times as the Secret Service would sweep a millionaire's pad talking all the while into their cuff links, whispering "Mr. Big" was on his way. Then Ford entered and shook hands -- ugh. Carter was throwing himself into Habitat for Humanity, (Carter has declined Secret Service protection since leaving office, saving us millions), Clinton is taking on AIDS all around the world and Ford is getting paid for parties and beaning spectators on golf courses. Former first lady Betty of course deserves our praise for her courage, dedication and influence on both addiction and HIV and AIDS. I wish President Ford well, but "Mr. Big" he's not, nor really ever was.

That said, isn't it pretty obvious that Bush is hostage to Iraq and nothing will really be accomplished domestically over the next 2 1/2 years? And don't you think Hillary can be elected? I believe Midwestern women will make the total difference and rally behind her. I dunno. Just seems to me that partisanship in D.C. has blown all intelligent thought away. Do you ever watch Animal Planet? I love the dog shows, but had no idea Ron Reagan Jr. hosted 'em. No doubt a strange career path from ballet dancer to computer reporter to dog pageant host. Good for him. It's all more admirable and honest than half-brother Michael's sad attempt to glom onto Pop's legacy pretending to be a bright conservative radio talk show host. What a humorless ass Michael is.

The wonderful Shelley Winters has passed on. What a marvelous life! She was a talented tart who in later years always seemed to be at the Silver Spoon restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard until she fully took ill last fall. The Spoon is a divine dive with plastic menus and bright overly lit color pictures of the food and the darkest, dankest bar on the boulevard (and that's saying a ton). The Silver Spoon is always grand for star sightings and just won't likely be the same without Oscar-winning Shelley holding court from her wheel chair. Yet Sally Kirkland, Martin Landau, Robert Forster, and other vets of the joint will no doubt carry the mantle.

Is it only me or does it seem to you like our local gay and lesbian retail community appears in decline? Is it culturally challenged? Something just seems to be fading. I honestly cannot put my finger on it. It's not gone from bright to dark, but the boulevard seems to be oddly waning. Do you agree?

Craig Ferguson from CBS's Late, Late Show is the best monologist on television. If you haven't seen him, check his weeknight show out.

Last week I was the unlikely recipient of a solicitation from the West Hollywood Gay Pride folks, looking for suggestions for this year's parade grand marshal. I assume it was mass spam. Honestly, we know they don't want my opinion, but I thought it a hike to the high road for them to send me off a missive. After dreadful giggling and rolling my eyes I realized I have to fill it out. I can't bitch and moan about how it all sucks if I don't participate in the improvement process once invited. It's a total wank and no doubt my suggestions will end up in the circular file. Lindsey Lohan, Bob Barker, Rip Taylor, or Tinky Winky, that gay Teletubbie will likely be waving from a flatbed truck on June 11, but I'm flattered to be asked to chip in to a party they really don't want me at.

Contact me at Malibudana@aol.com. See You Out & About