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August
22, 2001 -- For any guy, even a
guy who does amateur book reviews of occasionally weightier
volumes, there are few more compelling stories than that of a
fellow dude who achieves intimacy with (1)
his favorite porno actress, and (2) his favorite supermodel, and
(3) throw in an unspecified liaison with John Gotti gooma Lisa
Gastineau. When a fellow guy completes this kind of rare,
fantastic, and even dangerous “triple-banger” or trifecta,
it’s almost mandatory – if the writing isn’t too demanding -
to read up on whatever other fun he’s had.
Because let’s face it, when it comes to fun times with
eye-popping babes, guys are just as tuned to gossips as dames are. |
"...there
are few more compelling stories than that of a fellow dude who
achieves intimacy with (1)
his favorite porno actress, and (2) his favorite supermodel, and
(3) throw in an unspecified liaison with John Gotti gooma Lisa
Gastineau...." |
And
A.J. Benza, a former Daily News gossip columnist and recently fired
Radio (Howard Stern) personality, and present TV (E!) host - read:
celebrity - has sure had his fun. “Fun” might be too mild a word
considering A.J.’s enviable access, frantic-antics, comely conquests,
and comeuppances as he dashes around Manhattan Island grabbing armloads
of information about, at rock bottom, who was banging who in the deep
dark of night and murky pre-dawns. And then printing this stuff in New
York’s Hometown tabloid, the Daily News. (Readers note: this reviewer
HATES the Daily News. This reviewer also works at a sister company of
the Daily News, under the same ownership.
This is not a pleasant reality, either.)
A
Nightlife Napolean
A
better description might be that AJ died and went to Heaven while he was
still alive. From a guy’s perspective, dying might be a small price to
pay for the five year or so run A.J. had as New York’s bad boy of
gossip. At the height of his time at the Daily News, A.J. was a
nightlife Napoleon, trampling in every direction through high-living New
York and its dreamy and druggy damsels, clublords, and underworld. The
guy cut a huge dude swatch through Manhattan that would be tough to
match even if your name was, say, Sly Stallone or George Clooney.
The broads? Well, like broads, they just ate it up. And then they
had dessert, and then after-hours cocktails and treats.
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Fame
begins with A.J. growing up in near-Manhattan Long Island suburbia.
Early on, A.J. must endure the death first of his father, and then his
mother, who passes away after a difficult battle with cancer. During his
mother’s illness A.J. is compelled, with the help of his Mafiglioso-connected
cousin “Allie Boy,” to make book to pay the bills. There’s some
entertaining tales of how A.J., with his unspoken but probably
brandished mob clout behind him, cons and otherwise scams the bettors
whom comprise his clientele. This
section might be termed: “Poverty: Ain’t it a Sin.” A.J.
definitely doesn’t want to be a sinner.
Eventually
through some legitimate hustle, A.J. capitalizes on a meager
sports-writing background and is able to get on the staff of Long
Island’s Newsday (Readers note: this reviewer HATES Newsday).
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Feedback
from Readers
I
am A.J. Benza....and I must say this is the best, most honest
review I have seen on my book. All I ever wanted to convey was
what a weird and wonderful time I had during my sudden rise and
subsequent fall in the NYC gossip ranks. I just wanted to thank
the writer from one writer to another.
Good
work. I owe you a drink.
Best
A.J.
Benza |
While
working at Newsday, A.J. befriends gossip queen Linda Stasi (presently
appearing as an inside-the-front-page columnist for the New York Post.
Readers note: this reviewer LOVES the New York Post, but not
necessarily Stasi). Stasi takes A.J. under her chirpy wing as it were,
and he begins his ascent into night-life heaven. Eventually Linda moves
from Newsday to the Daily News, taking Benzi-boy along. When she leaves
the News, he stays, taking over as chief gossip-monger. Soon, he starts
making blurby TV gossip snippet appearances for E! and Joan Rivers batty
daytime talk show, and generally raising his profile and making some
decent dough. A.J. has hit the big time, stalking through New York’s
storied clubs and parties wolf-like, frankly admitting he’s the
luckiest man alive. If even half of his stories are true – such as in
one instance banging porno vixen Barbara Dare - he sure was.
The
'Starting Five'
But
as all good things must end, so it seems for A.J. He gets hooked on
pills. In one of the funnier sequences in the book, he calls the first
five Percocets he takes each morning (ostensibly for an old football
“back injury”) his “starting five.”
That makes the second five he takes at around noon his “second
unit.” Of course there’s other units later in the day depending on
how long a day (or night) A.J. has, and he has plenty.
A.J.,
no shrinking violet, thus starts becoming more of the story himself --
instead of being an mere observer and tattler. A.J. joins the likes of
his newfound celeb pal Mickey Rourke and chop-suey actor Jean-Claude
VanDam by getting punched out by Oz badboy Chuck Zito after being quoted
out of context in a New York magazine profile. A.J. befriends the
ever-nuttier Mariah
Carey, much to the chagrin of Mariah’s svengali,
Tommy Mottola – who offers A.J. nice things if he’ll keep out of
Tommy/Mariah’s imploding marriage. A.J. has additional dame problems,
mainly of the “too many” variety (as if that’s really a problem).
One foxy companion leaves him for a European Prince, another (his one
“true love” supermodel Kara Young) leaves him for orange-haired,
smarmy The Donald (Trump). Things finally reach a nadir when Pete Hamill
– the pseudo-grizzled and pompous a-hole NY columnist – becomes top
editor at the News and tells A.J. to write more for the reader, etc. A.J.
can’t or won’t do it, and while he’s out covering the Oscars in
LaLa, the ax falls. Almost end-of-story.
A.J.
turns up as host on some quirky “Mysteries” show on E! (Readers
Note: this reviewer does not have cable and has never watched cable TV
and thus cannot comment on this particular show.) A.J. turns up on
Howard Stern, although he was recently tossed off the Stern show for
slapping one of Howard’s flunky sidekicks. Stories relate that the
flunky sidekick was letting too many “anti-A.J.” callers through,
making fun of A.J.’s fading “career.”
Lately, A.J.’s profile is so low, it’s hard to find the dude
even in the gossip pages. Still, what a run while he lasted. There
aren’t many dudes on the planet who’ve notched as much quality
beaver as A.J. and frankly it’s an envious proposition to even
consider it. Much less review a book by the cat who done it.
A
Powerful Player on the After-Dark New
York Stage
As
a long-standing New York Post reader, A.J.’s Daily News gossip column
of the mid-nineties and thereabouts isn’t too familiar, although many
of the high-publicity incidents he describes are quite well-known to any
casual newspaper reader. Eventually, of course, no matter who breaks a
hot gossip story, that story makes all the media rounds and becomes part
of society’s increasingly celebrity-drenched collective consciousness.
For A.J., if he didn’t become quite a household name among vast swaths
of non-Daily News or even Daily News readers, he surely became a
notorious, influential, and even powerful player on the after-dark New
York stage. Thus Fame: Ain’t it
a Bitch ultimately describes how A.J. Benza merged some murky mob
connections, a real talent for bullshit, and looking good in chi-chi
designer clothes into a bundle of pussy, free drinks, notoriety, and
real newsprint-splashing clout. But it doesn’t quite explain A.J.’s
descent into his present obscurity; which is too bad, because usually
that’s the best part of any story. A.J. is still a comparatively young man, perhaps it’s a
story that isn’t quite over yet.
--
Rich Sheppard
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