Monday, Nov. 11, 2002 | 9:06 a.m.
Kid Rock. Pamela Anderson. Marriage.
Yada Yada Yada.
Despite a wave of rumors Friday afternoon that Robert James Ritchie (Kid Rock's real name), date of birth Jan. 17, 1971; and Pamela Denise Anderson, born July 1, 1967, had applied for a marriage license in Las Vegas, they didn't, according to Clark County records. But Detroit's other famous white rapper (along with Eminem), did his best over the past month to fuel speculation he would marry Anderson Saturday after his performance at MGM Grand Garden Arena, possibly as a ploy to boost ticket sales. (The concert, where he opened for Aerosmith, eventually sold out.)
Just before midnight Friday, without any security or bodyguards, Kid Rock walked into Whiskey Sky at Green Valley Ranch Station Casino. He was accompanied by just two male pals.
He was wearing a Mustang Ranch T-shirt, black jeans and a black mesh baseball cap turned backward. He ordered a bottle of Jack Daniel's and started pouring shots for everyone in the place.
Then he bought rounds of beers to wash back the Jack.
When an intrepid reporter walked up to Rock and asked him if there was any special event he was celebrating, he cocked his head, took a swig of Jack and cryptically answered: "It's my buddy's bachelor party."
Later, after the band Dirty Vegas finished its set, he jumped onstage and for the next 20 minutes rapped out some of his more notable lyrics, few of which can be repeated here.
Anderson was nowhere in sight.
Attention commemorative chip collectors.
On Nov. 27 Tropicana is releasing a limited-edition $5 piece to mark the National Finals Rodeo. The NFR chip is the 16th chip to be released as part of the Trop's 2002 commemorative series.
Las Vegas Mayor Oscar Goodman has policy envy. So he has hired a policy analyst to help inform him about all state, national and international issues that are not necessarily within his jurisdiction, but that he still gets asked about.
Goodman is a regular at National Council of Mayors events, and saw that most of his colleagues from around the country had an individual on staff whose sole purpose was to brief their boss on the larger issues.
Goodman wanted such an assistant, too.
So two weeks ago James B. "Brin" Gibson started in City Hall as Goodman's expert on policy analysis, business development and various other projects.
"There are some issues the mayor can resolve directly and others that require a partnership with other entities," city spokeswoman Elaine Sanchez explained.
"That's where Brin comes in. He will work as a liaison to research and, if possible, help implement solutions, on things the mayor feels are a priority."
Gibson's name surfaced in political news last week.
It was his e-mail last week to friends that his father -- Henderson mayor Jim Gibson -- would be a 2006 gubernatorial candidate, which set off all kinds of activity in Nevada political circles.
Big "Sopranos" party set for Harley Davidson Cafe on Sunday night.
Steve Schirripa, the former Riviera entertainment director who is now an actor on the show, will likely be there. He is on a national tour promoting his new book, "A Goomba's Guide to Life."
The Venetian is suing a Hong Kong businessman who allegedly owes the casino $700,000 in unpaid gambling debts.
Records show that the casino advanced computer trader Stephen Chu Nin-yiu $1 million in June 2001.
He paid back only $300,000, hence the lawsuit, which was filed in a Hong Kong court last week.
Las Vegas UPN station KTUD Channel 25 is hosting a casting call Saturday at Green Valley Ranch Station Casino from 9 p.m. to midnight.
UPN is looking for America's next supermodel.
The indie network is preparing a new reality show called "The Supermodel Show."
On-air contestants will go through "an intensive modeling boot camp," which includes such drills as how to master a runway walk, apply makeup and sit for a publicity still.
Winner gets an actual modeling contract with a major agency.
Tyra Banks, who will be a judge on the show, might also make an appearance at Green Valley.
Ricci Martin and his Dean Martin tribute-show band -- Billy Hinsche, Bobby Figueroa and Wayne Tweed -- seemed to be sincerely moved when producer Marlene Ricci jumped onstage at their closing night at the Riviera Saturday and offered a champagne toast.
The show is expected to return in the spring. Until then Martin will do some touring with Steve Rossi; Hinsche and musical partner Jeff Fosket are likely off to Australia and New Zealand; longtime Beach Boys percussionist Figueroa is working on a Spanish-language Beach Boys recording; and Tweed, a veteran Motown session man, is mulling several offers.
Amazing how different a rehearsal can be from an actual performance.
After seeing the lovely cast of "X," the new revue at Aladdin, run through some numbers before the show opened, I thought the show would fly.
After seeing the opening in the Center Stage Showroom Friday night, it is safe to say that the show did not fly.
As Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart famously said in 1964, he could not define pornography, but "I know it when I see it." There is a fine line between alluring eroticism and gutter pornography, and "X" certainly straddles the line -- but it is never crossed.
And though the dance numbers and costumes offer up several garden-variety male fantasies -- including schoolgirls in red plaid skirts, female prisoners, and two women in a bathtub -- it is done with a sense of humor.
For example, the schoolgirls take turns at the microphone discussing the sexual peccadillos of their favorite presidents, adding something to the girls that few ever acknowledge -- intellect.
Some of us find smart women sexy.
Also, comic John Padon was crucial to the success of the show. People would sip their drinks -- and it would spray out of their mouths with the force of a fire hydrant as they laughed at one of Padon's raunchy one-liners.
Perhaps the most creative number was set to Kid Rock's "Cowboy." Three women dressed (barely) as cowboys interact with a long swath of cloth that stretches from one end of the stage to the other, creating tantalizing shadows.
The best erotica is left to the imagination, isn't it?