Stars! Stars! Stars!
I've seen more celebrities in two days wandering around Denver than during the previous two years living in Hollywood. And that's not even counting Matt Damon infomercials. All I can say is, Kurt Russell and Major Dad better be working overtime in St. Paul next week. Here's a sampling I picked up in just five minutes yesterday at the Mile High City's elegant Osteria Marco restaurant:
Princess Diaries star and unindicted ex-girlfriend Anne Hathaway finally finds a man she can look up to:
Bicyclist Matthew Modine regales admirers with tales of his days as a high school wrestler and Vietnam-era Marine:
Clinton-era bad boy Henry Cisneros wonders where his highball glass went:
I thought this was the guy from The West Wing who died, but it turns out he just went to work for Joe Biden:
I also found a group of real live P.U.M.A.s. Even before Hillary Clinton's Harriet Tubmanesque speech, diehard Hillary supporters seemed like those English-speaking, American-uniformed Nazi infiltrators in the Battle of the Bulge -- far more common in the collective imagination than in reality. So I was lucky to squeeze off a shot.
As Dave noted earlier, actual P.U.M.A.s are almost always outnumbered by media types interviewing P.U.M.A.s. I myself came back to ask some questions after snapping this pic, but by then the elusive creatures had vanished. It's a hazard of trying to find opposition around here. The sparsely populated protest area/free-speech zone in Denver's civic center is the tip: All carbon-based bipedal life forms are in the tank for Barack Obama.
