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For the celebrity-mad here in the Twin Cities Budd Rugg recommends sticking with media personalities
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POSTED JANUARY 18, 1998--Let me tell you a little bit about myself. I’ve had a divining rod for celebrities since I was a flabby little bastard in short pants, and nobody’s ever had to tell me how to sniff out the beautiful and interesting people. Where they go, there I am. And I’m not talking about standing behind the barricades with the rest of the groupies, clutching a shitty little autograph book and maybe a long stemmed rose and jumping up and down like a fragging idiot: "Don! Don Shelby! Over here, Don!" No, that’s not my style; I couldn’t stand myself if I was one of those people. I have an absolute need to know the people I adore –even if it is only an illusion, to be on a first name basis with them, to smell their cigars or their perfume or their perspiration, as the case may be; to know their favorite haunts, how they like their steak, the floors they climb and the calories they burn on the Stairmaster at the club; I need to know what cars they drive, what’s in their CD player at home, where they vacation, how they treat the little people in the service sector. In short, I want to be their friend, and I am. I recently sat right behind Tom Lyden and Lori Aoki at "Good Will Hunting." They loved it, and so did I.

Granted, these aren’t real celebrities; I’m not deluding myself. I live here for a reason. In Los Angeles or New York I would be one of those sad characters squealing at the barricades and begging Bryant Gumbel to look my way. But here, in this nice little B-squad burg, we have mostly a junior varsity squad of celebrities –i.e. media people, corporate fat cats, and sports stars—and access is never a problem for the persistent and the charismatic. It’s the same everywhere you go in the United States: the simply rich are simply boring, and I learned long ago to treat athletic figures as animals rather than true celebrities; Zoo animals, to be sure, but animals nonetheless: exotic, beautiful, fascinating to gaze upon, just so long as one doesn’t try to get too close. A lion might be a lovely creature to behold, but up close, I am told, they smell ghastly, and invade their personal space and you are likely to get either mauled or date raped. For the celebrity-mad here in the Twin Cities I recommend sticking with media personalities; that way one doesn’t get so easily and needlessly disappointed. Which is not to say that there are not crushing disappointments even in the unlikeliest places –some of the smallest fry stink far worse than the big fish. And, sure, some of the big fish stink plenty too, but all of that –the scoop, the poop, the skinny, the lowdown, and the dirt—is what Budd Rugg is all about.

For a good time, click meI love these people –the Donny Shelbys, the Paul Douglasses, the Danny Barreiros, the Chris Hewitts, the poor Diana Pierces, the Al Sichermans —I adore them, they are my whole pathetic world. I’ve got a media crush like you wouldn’t believe, and if the best I can do is a couple minutes, say, tete-a-tete, on Jon Hassler’s latest with wheezy old StarTribune books editor Dave Wood, well, some nights that’ll have to do. There’s absolutely nothing worse than a cold, fruitless night of making the rounds –Rosen’s, the Loring, Murray’s, the Local—and coming home without even the flimsiest anecdote –not even a Dean Rebuffoni or Pat Kessler sighting-- to my dreary little basement apartment with the signed photos on the walls of Steve Cannon ("Hey Gang!") and Dave Moore and Sid Hartman and Joe Soucheray and Barbara Flanagan and Eric Perkins and Boone and Erickson and Pat Miles and Jon Bream and Dan "The Common Man" Cole and Moose Miller and Dave Dahl and ‘Becca Kolls and Joe Schmidt and Mark Rosen and Rick Kupchella and Neal Justin and Tom Powers and Jim Klobuchar and Bob Yates and Colleen Needles, etc., etc. I’ve got two televisions that never stop parading these people into my bedroom, and a radio on the bedstand that is more perfect every day. Isn’t it wonderful how these beautiful people are everywhere? I can read Dan Barreiro’s column in the newspaper and look at his judiciously cropped photo and listen to him on the radio, all at the same time! He’s a huge star! And I know him, almost. Last year I went out to just about every remote Barreiro and Chad Hartman did for KFAN. The same goes for Joe Soucheray, who I have loved forever, since all the way back when he had hair and only one chin and wasn’t such a completely loveable, chubby Republican sucking on a fat cigar all the time. I read that book he wrote about rebuilding a boat with his old man and I couldn’t stop crying. I love Joe Soucheray! It’s so great that he maintains such a large and visible presence in this marketplace, and I’m so happy he’s not somewhere else like New York where he’d be lucky to drive a tour bus and have a cable access show. I love all the local media, and I love them unconditionally. I even know and love the guy who writes obituaries for the Strib David Chanen. I love you, David! I’ve played raquetball with David –in my dreams!

Click me if you like to see men in their undiesAnyway, what Budd Rugg wants from you is everything you’ve got. My dream is to create here a community of shared gossip and obsession about our favorite people, the people we spend more time with than just about anyone else in our lives –the beautiful men and women of the media. And Dan Barreiro. Just kidding, Danny! If you see Rick Kupchella at Lund’s, well, dammit, nosy Budd Rugg wants to know what he’s got in his basket, down to the last Dove bar. If you run into Randy Shaver at the gym get on the phone and let your nosy neighbor (Budd Rugg) know what he was benching. I loved a recent report of a friend’s parking lot altercation with a woman she was almost sure was Kare 11’s Julie Borgen.

And speaking of the gym, the recent departure of my good personal friend Jonathan Elias, for L.A.’s lucky KCBS, leaves a huge void in the buff anchor stud department. I’ll miss Jon-Jon, but I’m sure his pumped good looks (dude packs a Speedo, if you know what I mean) and outrageous canned tan will play better in laid back La-La land. Let me know –please!please!please!-- the absolute minute you see any local media personality in a Speedo –Call that Budd Rugg’s Rule Number One. And please feel free to weigh in on anything else at all that catches your fancy. I don’t care how seemingly insignificant it is –if you see Nick Coleman jogging I need to hear about it! I think you get the idea, and I sincerely hope we can make each other very happy. So get on it! Send all media-related gossip, sightings, encounters, rumors, fantasies, crushes, and opinions to, or regular mail at:

Budd Rugg
420 N. 5th St. #707
Mpls., MN 55401

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