Andy, possum, we can’t exactly tell you this over a martini at The Palm, so this will have to do. Possum, your plan was brilliant—dastardly, diabolical, and divine.
We all know you’re Madonna’s number-one fan; she may well get more mentions on your blog than your BlackBerry does.
And we all know that her brother, Christopher Ciccone, was excommunicated and banished by Her Madgesty, the Like-a-Virgin Queen, reportedly because, though he followed her into the kingdom of disco balls and Hurrell appropriation, he refused to follow her into the kingdom of tithing, ropy arms and Kabbala water.
Knowing that the pudgy royal sibling was in disfavor, you must have at once seen the tactical advantage of further disgracing the Scary Queen of Scoffs on national television.
And so El Chico Ciccone was asked to appear on Top Chef and run his mouth, revealing himself, as Dale Levitski put it, as an “asshole” and “one of the most annoying people [he’s] ever met.” And then getting him to “help” the cheftestants with the restaurant design after trashing their food and making their lives hell was another brilliant move. And introducing him as a “renowned restaurant and interior designer”? That was plain mean, but we don’t begrudge you a moment of MeanGay; in fact, we love it.
The subtext of “Here, Dale and Hung, let a real Gay show you how it’s done,” was breathtaking in its can’t-fail efficiency. We’ve never seen a better demonstration of waving a pink rag in front of a bull. Frankly, with Dale around, we feared for Ciccone’s safety; his life was hanging by a very thin red thread.
And who could blame Dale for seeing red? Red was all we saw, too, once Ciccone was done decorating the space. As Dale put it, it looked like Valentine’s Day threw up all over it. And, we might add, as if Valentine’s Day had thrown up after spending the evening alone eating candy hearts and having too many Cosmopolitans.
That design should definitely add to Ciccone’s “renown” as a designer, as no doubt will the scrawl on Restaurant April’s wall and those godawful wicker chairs (“Hey, Wicker Man!” Miss XaXa shouted at the television, “didn’t your sister sing a song about you? ‘Pudgy Don’t Preach’?”).
And the results? Well, for starters, you have Anthony Bourdain saying things like this:
Another good performance from Dale, who continues to impress with his professionalism. When confronted with Madonna's asshat brother, he managed to avoid telling him where he could go with his interior design suggestions and what, exactly, to do with that candelabra. A remarkable display of self-control. I am atwitter with anticipation, wondering what other food world luminaries might share their wisdom with us next week! Joe Piscopo's brother, the landscaper? Mickey Rourke's dog-groomer? This could get really, really good!
Like we said, Andy, possum, brilliant. We bet you’re getting front-row seats the next time Madonna performs at the Garden.