Do We Need A New Rat Pack? A reposted Craig's List rant
My girlfriend Karen just finished reading Jennifer Lancaster’s book Bitter is the New Black, and had commented on how the author mentions that a magazine publisher contacted her about printing her Craig’s List Rants-n-Raves rant, “Do We Need A New Rat Pack?”, in his newly founded magazine.
Being a fan of the Rat Pack myself, her raving about the article caught my attention so I googled it and found it on best of Craig’s List. I’ve reposted the rant below:
best of craigslist > new york > Do We Need A New Rat Pack?
Originally Posted: Tue, 2 Sep 16:37 EDT
Do We Need A New Rat Pack?
Date: 2003-09-02, 4:37PM EDT
So Sean “Puffy” Combs and Ashton "Rob My Cradle" Kutcher are now calling themselves The Rat Pack?
Oh, I don’t THINK so.
Don’t get me wrong, Sean Combs, aka Puff Daddy, aka P. Diddy, aka Sean John can change his name all day long if he likes. And I certainly respect his right to take over the Hamptons and throw his infamous White Parties in the middle of town square if that’s what he wants. I’ve got no problem with him making as much money as he can in a career I have yet to understand. (But what exactly does he do that makes him so rich? And how do I get this job?) Buy yourself as many Bentleys as you please, Puffster, and drown all of Hollywood in Cristal if that’s your desire. You want to specify a dress code and enforce a guest list at your New Year’s soiree? I say have at it! You’ve earned that right.
But calling your group of friends The Rat Pack? You’re treading on sacred ground here, pal.
At a cursory glance, yeah, I’ll agree that you share some traits with Frank, Dean, Sammy and the rest. Sure, you’ve got the Babes, the Booze, the Bucks, and the Buddies. But repeat after me… the Four Bs do not a Rat Pack make. And as of right now, no one’s dimming the lights on the Vegas Strip when you die, Diddy-o. And here’s why…
The guys in the real Rat Pack were MASCULINE. They could drink Jack Daniels on the rocks all night, smoke like it was their job, and still make their 6:00 AM call. I’m pretty sure that if Frank threw a party, he wouldn’t specify the type of heel required on the shoe the guests were obligated to wear to the bash. (Yes, they had great style, but you wouldn’t see them tittering over hemlines in the front row of a Versace show with Kelly Osborne and Gwyenth Paltrow.)
These men weren’t divas like you and your current crew. Certainly I’ve never opened an old issue of Us Magazine and seen a photo of Sammy Davis Jr. and HIS personal umbrella valet. If Dino missed his 6:00 AM call, it was because he was busy bedding multiple showgirls and NOT getting a seaweed wrap followed by a rosewater pedicure. And, hey, Kelso? I guarn-goddamn-tee you that Peter Lawford never ran into a club pointing at himself squealing, “Rat Pack! Rat Pack! We are SO the Rat Pack!”
So frankly, Puffalo Soldier, you and your nancy-boy pals are going to have to leather up if you want to fill ol’ Francis Albert’s custom-made underpants. And while you're at it, open the door to the VIP room. See, the real Rat Pack members were beloved not because they were exclusive, but because they were inclusive. Heck, if they had a big party, it was on TV! They encouraged their audiences to connect and identify with them through their use of self-deprecating humor. To this day, they are still a hell of a lot of fun to watch. Because of the bond they were able to forge with their audience, people of all races, ages, sexes, and socioeconomic class became fans. So if you can’t form a connection with the masses, you won’t be remembered. (And no one can bond with you, SeanOnJohn, if you turn us away at the door for not fitting your narrowly defined expectation of “cool.”)
By the way, please stop taking yourself so seriously! You’re not testifying before Congress, so why not lighten up around the media? H.R. HuffnPuff, I’ve never seen a photo where your expression didn’t look like you just got caught downwind of Jamie Foxx the morning after Tainted Burrito Night. SMILE; it won’t kill you!
Finally, the men of the Rat Pack had real, identifiable, lasting TALENT for which they were beloved. Frank and Dino had voices that could make my Italian Noni cry and Sammy’s skills made a lot of people realize that racism wasn’t a good thing. Do you think little girls grow up dreaming of doing the father-daughter dance at their fairy tale wedding to your tunes, Scritti PiDiddy? My guess is no. (By the way, has anyone ever cried when they heard your songs, the artists you sampled notwithstanding?)
As for demonstrating acting chops, these talented performers had the ability to do comedy AND drama. Sure, they did light, fun movies like Ocean’s 11. But that doesn’t negate the fact that Frank also won an Oscar for his role of Maggio in From Here to Eternity. So, Mr. Combsover, you and the rest of your posse of wanna-be Packers are going to have to pull something more substantial than Booty Call or Dude, Where’s My Car out of your arsenal before you win me over, because as for now…
… the “new” Rat Pack isn’t fit to carry Joey Bishop’s luggage.
http://www.allaboutjen.com
PostingID: 15705944
Being a fan of the Rat Pack myself, her raving about the article caught my attention so I googled it and found it on best of Craig’s List. I’ve reposted the rant below:
best of craigslist > new york > Do We Need A New Rat Pack?
Originally Posted: Tue, 2 Sep 16:37 EDT
Do We Need A New Rat Pack?
Date: 2003-09-02, 4:37PM EDT
So Sean “Puffy” Combs and Ashton "Rob My Cradle" Kutcher are now calling themselves The Rat Pack?
Oh, I don’t THINK so.
Don’t get me wrong, Sean Combs, aka Puff Daddy, aka P. Diddy, aka Sean John can change his name all day long if he likes. And I certainly respect his right to take over the Hamptons and throw his infamous White Parties in the middle of town square if that’s what he wants. I’ve got no problem with him making as much money as he can in a career I have yet to understand. (But what exactly does he do that makes him so rich? And how do I get this job?) Buy yourself as many Bentleys as you please, Puffster, and drown all of Hollywood in Cristal if that’s your desire. You want to specify a dress code and enforce a guest list at your New Year’s soiree? I say have at it! You’ve earned that right.
But calling your group of friends The Rat Pack? You’re treading on sacred ground here, pal.
At a cursory glance, yeah, I’ll agree that you share some traits with Frank, Dean, Sammy and the rest. Sure, you’ve got the Babes, the Booze, the Bucks, and the Buddies. But repeat after me… the Four Bs do not a Rat Pack make. And as of right now, no one’s dimming the lights on the Vegas Strip when you die, Diddy-o. And here’s why…
The guys in the real Rat Pack were MASCULINE. They could drink Jack Daniels on the rocks all night, smoke like it was their job, and still make their 6:00 AM call. I’m pretty sure that if Frank threw a party, he wouldn’t specify the type of heel required on the shoe the guests were obligated to wear to the bash. (Yes, they had great style, but you wouldn’t see them tittering over hemlines in the front row of a Versace show with Kelly Osborne and Gwyenth Paltrow.)
These men weren’t divas like you and your current crew. Certainly I’ve never opened an old issue of Us Magazine and seen a photo of Sammy Davis Jr. and HIS personal umbrella valet. If Dino missed his 6:00 AM call, it was because he was busy bedding multiple showgirls and NOT getting a seaweed wrap followed by a rosewater pedicure. And, hey, Kelso? I guarn-goddamn-tee you that Peter Lawford never ran into a club pointing at himself squealing, “Rat Pack! Rat Pack! We are SO the Rat Pack!”
So frankly, Puffalo Soldier, you and your nancy-boy pals are going to have to leather up if you want to fill ol’ Francis Albert’s custom-made underpants. And while you're at it, open the door to the VIP room. See, the real Rat Pack members were beloved not because they were exclusive, but because they were inclusive. Heck, if they had a big party, it was on TV! They encouraged their audiences to connect and identify with them through their use of self-deprecating humor. To this day, they are still a hell of a lot of fun to watch. Because of the bond they were able to forge with their audience, people of all races, ages, sexes, and socioeconomic class became fans. So if you can’t form a connection with the masses, you won’t be remembered. (And no one can bond with you, SeanOnJohn, if you turn us away at the door for not fitting your narrowly defined expectation of “cool.”)
By the way, please stop taking yourself so seriously! You’re not testifying before Congress, so why not lighten up around the media? H.R. HuffnPuff, I’ve never seen a photo where your expression didn’t look like you just got caught downwind of Jamie Foxx the morning after Tainted Burrito Night. SMILE; it won’t kill you!
Finally, the men of the Rat Pack had real, identifiable, lasting TALENT for which they were beloved. Frank and Dino had voices that could make my Italian Noni cry and Sammy’s skills made a lot of people realize that racism wasn’t a good thing. Do you think little girls grow up dreaming of doing the father-daughter dance at their fairy tale wedding to your tunes, Scritti PiDiddy? My guess is no. (By the way, has anyone ever cried when they heard your songs, the artists you sampled notwithstanding?)
As for demonstrating acting chops, these talented performers had the ability to do comedy AND drama. Sure, they did light, fun movies like Ocean’s 11. But that doesn’t negate the fact that Frank also won an Oscar for his role of Maggio in From Here to Eternity. So, Mr. Combsover, you and the rest of your posse of wanna-be Packers are going to have to pull something more substantial than Booty Call or Dude, Where’s My Car out of your arsenal before you win me over, because as for now…
… the “new” Rat Pack isn’t fit to carry Joey Bishop’s luggage.
http://www.allaboutjen.com
PostingID: 15705944