I just read that Playmate Holly Madison has had her breasts insured for a million bucks with Lloyd's of London. I could think of no better occasion to trot out an old photo with Holly from a book signing in L.A. . . . . umm, or a press-related Playboy event I attended with my actor pal, Kris. Read the entire story about the million dollar breasts here.

Now that music has gone digital, I really miss the days of thumbing through my record collection and finding that album I'd forgotten about. Just recently, I was recently sorting through my dusty CDs and ran across my beloved copy of "The Best of Freddie King." The only reason this had gone to the back shelf was that I played it too much.
Freddie King was a towering talent and one of my personal favorite all-time musicians -- a bluesman born in Texas, raised in Chicago who died in the 1970s while still in his early 40s. His style is so unique, a mix of Texas and Chicago blues, funk, soul, and Southern rock 'n roll. Lately I've been listening to Freddie nonstop. Some of you may recognize his hit "Goin' Down" as the theme song to "East Bound and Down." Take a minute to see Freddie live and get familiar with one of the real unique talents of blues. Warning, "East Bound and Down" is pretty raunchy, for immature audiences only.

This Labor Day weekend marks the 90th Anniversary of the fateful trip to San Francisco that led to the downfall of one of Hollywood's first major stars. Silent film comedian Roscoe Arbuckle booked three rooms at the St. Francis Hotel, where he threw a grand party full of beautiful girls and bootleg whiskey. Sometime during the party, a bit-part player and sometime-model named Virginia Rappe got sick and died not long thereafter.

The San Francisco District Attorney's Office charged the rotund actor with rape and murder, and that news set off the first major celebrity scandal.

The public quickly turned on Roscoe, who up to that point was widely adored and as popular as any movie star in 1921. He was on equal footing with Chaplin -- whom he helped start in the business -- and had just signed a million-dollar deal with Paramount. He'd gone to San Francisco to celebrate that new deal with a couple of Hollywood pals. During his trial, women spit on him.

What happened in that suite has been the source of debate and conjecture for almost a century now, but what continues to fascinate many people is Arbuckle himself and his great fall from stardom.

When I started work on my novel about the trial, Devil's Garden (G.P. Putnam's Sons 2009), I knew more about the myth than the facts. I was fortunate enough to find the trial transcripts intact and even Virginia Rappe's medical records. Those documents revealed no infamous Coke bottle and that a lot of initial slander about the case never panned out. My novel centered on the true involvement of a young Pinkerton detective working for the defense named Dashiell Hammett. Many critics believe the writer's hard-boiled world view came partly from watching the railroading of Arbuckle first hand.

Actors from John Belushi to Chris Farley have talked about making a movie on the Arbuckle scandal. Those projects, almost like the true story, have been doomed from the start.

To get a sense of the fury and circus around the Arbuckle trial, check out the spectacular image file at the San Francisco Public Library that includes rare stills of Arbuckle and newspapers photos of the trial.
Arbuckle actually suffered through three trials before finally being acquitted of all charges. But the damage was done. He had been vilified in newspapers throughout the world, and when he returned to Hollywood, he was banned from making movies by the newly formed Hayes Commission.

Ten years later, seldom remembered and broke, he died. Those lucky enough to discover his films at festivals or on DVD, will find one of early Hollywood's great talents.