Thrill of a Lifetime, CTV's new "you asked for it, you got it" show, has fulfilled the dreams of many Canadians. The participants get their thrills by doing everything from washing the windows of Toronto's dizzying CN Tower to rounding up Jack Homer's cattle.
“The Playboy centrefold worked in reverse,” says production manager Ed Crain. “When we called them, they said, ‘You screen some girls and send us the tapes.’ ” So Crain and his cronies interviewed 10 “slightly nude” ladies and came up with Playboy’s Miss November, Shannon Tweed. A 24-year-old fivefoot, 10-inch blonde, Tweed was born on a Newfoundland mink farm, raised in Saskatoon and introduced to modelling in Ottawa—“A good place to make your mistakes and run.” Now she holes up in Hugh Hefner’s Los Angeles mansion, while Hef looks for the “right people so I won’t be typecast in nude roles” and puts her film careerin motion.That could be a thrill that may last a life-time.
Peter Desbarats, former Ottawa bureau chief with the Global Television Network, admits that he once thought journalism schools were a waste of time. “We tended to feel that you either had a gift, or you didn’t,” says Desbarats. “If you didn’t, no school in the world could give it to you.” Understandably, Desbarats, 48, has had a change of heart. After a month in his new position as dean of journalism at London’s University of Western Ontario, he says formal education is necessary to help budding journalists understand today’s “complicated issues” and such neglected disciplines as “proper research.” Though Desbarats’ own meagre post-secondary education—a year at Montreal’s Loyola College— didn’t affect his chances for the sevenyear appointment, it has created some controversy in the world of academia.
he name symbolizes the end of the American dream. After the
Kennedys were killed, things were never the same.” So says Jello Biafra, lead singer of San Francisco’s politicopunk band Dead Kennedys. The group’s singles, however, hardly harken back to happier days. And by following up its underground hits, California Uber Alles and Holiday in Cambodia, with an obscenely titled tune, the band has not endeared itself to the mainstream music industry. The song, politely paraphrased “Too Inebriated to Fornicate,” has been refused distribution by every major record company in the world and banned from airplay by the BBC. Still, it has rocketed into the Top 10 in Britain. At home things are going a little more slowly. “Self-centred rich kids have got to stop ignoring the daily global tragedies,” says Biafra. With such lyrics as, “I love your gun/Shootin’ out truck tires/Sound like loads and loads of fun,”
the ditty’s popularity in Britain seems to signal the tragedy of unemployed youths with too much time on their hands.
Baron Philippe de Rothschild, multimillionaire winegrower, is just as concerned about what goes on the bottles of his world-famous wine as what goes in them. His latest $100-a-bottle creation—Chateau Mouton Rothschild ’78—features labels designed by Montreal expatriate Jean-Paul Riopelle. The 79-year-old baron’s only child, Baroness Philippine de Rothschild, says her father has been recruiting renowned artists and paying them in 10-case lots of Mouton’s finest since 1945. However, Salvador Dali’s contribution—two little black squiggles—stops her cold. “Dali didn’t work on it very long,” she says apologetically. “Oh well. Max Ernst came and drew on the tablecloth. His wife designed the label.”
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