Dogged journalist grills a guy who looks like Bono.

Makes a big deal out of it before it's figured out that they guy was not Bono.

Pavel “Bonodouble” Sfera showed up [at some big music event] in his Bono-impersonation garb. ”I went there as a spoof,” says Sfera....

[Jason Mattera, editor at large at Human Events] "started asking questions about why I had taken money out of Ireland and moved it to Holland for a lower tax base,” recalls Sfera....

Sfera says he was “waiting” for Mattera to figure out that he wasn’t really Bono. That moment didn’t come, and Sfera decided not to help his interlocutor. “I let him go,” says Sfera. “I didn’t think he was being legitimate and fair.”

Ha ha. Did I ever tell you that circa 1960, my father looked like Frank Sinatra? He'd get asked for his autograph, and he gave it. Frank Sinatra. My other story like that is that one time — in the 1970s — I was in a restaurant in NYC with my brother and his friend who just happened to resemble Bruce Springsteen. Some young woman rushed up and began hugging him and raving about how she loved all his songs. We didn't know what the hell was happening. I figured it out later, but the lady must believe, to this day, that she got close to Bruce.

What is wrong with people?! I'm never sure I recognize someone!

"I need a moment alone... I don't want to talk to anyone."

A bonus clip from "The Comeback" — the great, great HBO comedy with Lisa Kudrow. I was looking for a different clip, but wanted to share this anyway, or let's just say it fits today's blog theme.

What I was looking for is the scene where Valerie Cherish (Kudrow) is posing for a publicity photograph and keeps doing that ridiculous pouting thing in an effort to make her lips look sexy. I was looking for that to go along with this hilarious slideshow of "Celebrity pouters."

"I am a Christian, and I am a model. Models pose for pictures, including lingerie and swimwear photos."

Carrie Prejean, cultural monument of the moment.

"I just want to say that, when somebody has a disfigurement, or don't look as pretty as you do..."

"... don't judge them, because you never know what happened to them."

Connie Culp, whose husband shot her face off, speaking after a face transplant.

"You never know what might happen to you and you might get into a car wreck and think you are beautiful one day ....and don't look the same as you did, you never know, one day it might be taken away."

"I am interested in Nicolas Sarkozy’s bottom. No, really."

"I would like to compare its height, firmness and bounciness with the bottom of Crown Prince Felipe of Spain. Is it 'impossibly round and high,' for instance, or disappointingly flat?"

"Jude Law's First 100 Days As People Magazine's Sexiest Man Alive."

"According to [Veronica Giulletti, associate editor of People], the Sexiest Man Alive receives the most media attention at the very beginning of his term. While some sexy men use the news coverage as an opportunity to introduce radical changes to their looks, Giulletti said that Law chose to stay the course. 'Jude came into office with a big, sexy plan in place, Giulletti said. 'He'd spent years tweaking and refining his dapper image, so it was wise that he chose to stick with it.'"

"She tried to be chipper, and when they asked her age, she did this little shimmy" — because she was on TV.

"We could see that Susan Boyle thought "you’re supposed to be kind of sexy and personable, and she got it wrong... Nothing sort of triggers our contempt more than something trying to be acceptable and then failing."

Consider the brain and its stereotypes:

On a very basic level, judging people by appearance means putting them quickly into impersonal categories, much like deciding whether an animal is a dog or a cat. “Stereotypes are seen as a necessary mechanism for making sense of information,” said David Amodio, an assistant professor of psychology at New York University....

Eons ago, this capability was of life-and-death importance, and humans developed the ability to gauge other people within seconds....

One reason our brains persist in using stereotypes, experts say, is that often they give us broadly accurate information, even if all the details don’t line up. Ms. Boyle’s looks, for example, accurately telegraphed much about her biography, including her socioeconomic level and lack of worldly experience.

Her behavior on stage reinforced an outsider image. David Berreby, author of “Us and Them,” about why people categorize one another, said the TV audience may have also judged her harshly because, in banter with the judges before singing, she appeared to be trying, awkwardly, to fit in....

[John F. Dovidio, a psychology professor at Yale] said that encountering discrepancies to stereotypes probably “creates a sort of autonomic arousal” in our peripheral nervous system, triggering spikes of cortisol and other indicators of stress. “That autonomic arousal is going to motivate us to do something in that situation,” he said, especially if the situation is dangerous.

But we're not out on the savannah in evolutionary times. We're sitting at home on our comfy sofas, experiencing the thrill that was once danger.

"Susan Boyle: What's the big deal?"

"Not to be a grump, but am I the only one who finds this a little over-the-top and, frankly, a little condescending? Plenty of big-voiced PYTs sing their hearts out every week on American Idol (not to mention onstage in Broadway shows) without getting this kind of reaction. But Susan, because of her looks, because of the fact that people were snickering at her before she opened her mouth, becomes a sensation simply by being able to carry a tune. She has a decent voice, sure. But let's not get carried away. She's no LuPone, and her talent is only really shocking if you've already counted her out as a squawker on account of her granny hairdo and pre-fame Julia Roberts eyebrows. Once the element of surprise is gone, we're all going to be stuck with the fact that she's a capable, but by no means extraordinary singer. And is that really worth all the fuss?"

Thank you, Adam Markovitz. You are not the only one.

"After the first lady drew criticism for looking angry..."

"... her high-arched eyebrows were reshaped with a softer arc that gave her a friendlier appearance."

Just one of the details in this story about why Michelle Obama has full-time makeup artist.

(I don't like the term "makeup artist." I'd like something more frank and descriptive. Maybe face wrangler. Something like that.)

Bad hair day.

This last 24 hours was a monumental bad hair day! I go in to my usual place for a retouch, and somehow, sitting down in the chair and looking into the mirror unleashes my impulse to reconnect with my identity as a redhead. For a woman of a certain age, like me, it's easier to be blonde, but no matter how light my hair gets, I still believe I'm a redhead -- even when I'm looking in the mirror. It has deep personal meaning!

Here's my original hair color, photographed long ago.



(Let that chair tell the story of how long ago it was.)

So, suddenly, I'm all let's make it red! But for elaborate chemical reasons that aren't worth explaining, the attempt at red came out the horrid color an old penny. It was shockingly homely, plain, drab, dowdy, frumpy... aarrggghhh! I can't begin to tell you. It was a nightmare.

The hairdresser went into emergency mode. It would have been insanely embarrassing to show up at work like that. The restoration effort had numerous stages and took three more hours.

At work, no one seemed to notice. I guess the recovery effort was a success. In the end, I think it was an improvement over what it was when I sat down in the chair, but in the middle, it was horrifying, my friends. I'm glad you didn't get a chance to see me like that.

Unfortunate...

Tattoos. And then there are the things you do to yourself that you can't hide with a shirt.

Here's a website devoted to bad tattoos. And here's one I like even better. There are different kinds of bad, though, you know, and I'm going to endorse this kind:

"Their lives overflow with dramatic possibility and struggle -- struggles that must be viewed through the prism of their gender."

David Lat defends his obsession with divas:

We will not apologize for having a weakness for divas. We have loved divas for our entire life, ever since we popped out of one's womb....

Every blogger develops his or her own idiosyncratic hobbyhorses and obsessions. Glenn Reynolds, aka Instapundit, is obssessed [sic] with "porkbusting." Dave Kopel, of the Volokh Conspiracy, is obsessed with guns. The Wonketteers are obssessed [sic] with Katherine Harris.

And then there's this post, devoted to Janice Rogers Brown (who Lat thinks looks like Wanda Sykes):

During the Q and A, we got up and asked her (among other things): "Judge Brown, you're a fabulous judicial diva. But you're stuck on a court that focuses on administrative law. Do you feel that being on the D.C. Circuit cramps your diva style?"

Tee hee. And I love the use of all-caps in her answer: "I have NEVER thought of myself as a diva."