If you happen to be leaving for China anytime soon, remember to pick up a copy of the November issue of Harper’s Bazaar China where notoriously disarming former First Lady, Imelda Romualdez-Marcos is featured in its Bazaar Successful Woman section wear-ing two smashing Maria Claras and a chic blue skirt suit. Unfortunately, unless you can read Chinese, you’ll need a translator for the lengthy article, which is accompanied by several pre-cious old photographs of Meldy in her heyday.

T H E P H I L I P P I N E S T A R SATURDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2011 G-1 Lifestyle Editor: Millet Martinez-MananquilEmail: feedback@supreme.ph

SuprEME Editor & Creative Director:

Tim YapEditor at Large:pepe Diokno

Assistant Editor:Cai Subijano

Assistant to the Editor: David Milan

4th of 4

Contributing Editors:Daryl Changping MedinaJ Vincent Sarabia Ong Gino de la paz

Kabogera of the week: Imelda Marcos

Best of the WeeKExtreme makeover: NAIA edition, Imelda’s Imeldific-ness, and Madonna’s homeless bro!

By Cai SuBijanohomeless dude of the week: Anthony Ciccone

T w o w e e k s ago , we h a d a homeless B r i t n e y f a n a t i c and this week, we have another pop star-related vagrant. And we mean related. Anthony Ciccone is the older brother of Madonna Louise Veronica Ciccone who is worth $1 billion, while he calls a local Michigan prison his sleeping quarters, the nearby Methodist church his daily brunch stop, and a location under a bridge his digs. When asked about his famous sis, he answered, “She wants nothing to do with me. She has her life.” Tough love!

Rescue mission of the week: The beautification of NAIA

Champions of the week: the san Beda Red Lions

Though we were offended and hurt when NAIA was named the world’s worst airport, we can’t say that we didn’t half-expect it. Thank God then that Kenneth Cobonpue, along with a few designer friends, presented a pro-bono design for a refur-bished NAIA. “We made this design because we believe that no matter how beautiful our country is, our airports give the first and last impressions,” he said. If only we could give airport employees and their bribery tactics a makeover.

After the San Sebastian Golden Stags broke the San Beda Red Lions’ stunning 26-game winning streak last Aug. 19, the Lion Kings opened up a can of whup-ass on their NCAA 87 rivals three games in a row before beating them on Game 2 of the NCAA Finals last Wednesday, reclaiming their crown as back-to-back champs. On top of that, the Lions Kings’ roar was heard ‘round the world as the Twitter hashtag “Congrats San Beda” trended worldwide! Way to go!

The Philippine StarG-2 SATURDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2011

By Tim Yap

There was a lot of talk surrounding it, but today, Oct. 29, is Boy Abunda’s actual birthday. Nobody knows how old he really is, but during our one-on-one interview,

which happened in the hallowed halls of the Bandila set, he candidly shared so much with us that we forgot about the age issue. If wisdom is the marker of age, then Boy Abunda, for me, is immortal.

An hour before they went on air, Boy was in a closed door meeting, one of several appointments he managed to pack within his day before he went on to deliver the newscast and get to the bottomline of things on whoever was the newsmaker of the moment. The other day, it was a back-to-back with David Foster and Charice. Today, it was Lauren Dyogi, the director of Pinoy Big Brother.

I stepped onto the set with our crew ready for action. Boy arrived in a brown suit paired with an Hermes tie. Dapper and distinguished, but with a

very distinct warmth about him, Boy gave me a tight hug — a hug that was a mark of friendship, one that has spanned a few years and counting. You see, Boy was my first industry mentor. When I wanted to cross over to mainstream television, it was Boy who I con-tacted and met with. Even when times weren’t perfect, when I needed him for advice, moral support or just a shoulder to cry on, Boy was there for me, quietly.

So many people want to be the next Boy Abunda. “Nobody can be you, because nobody is like you. Each of us is beautiful in our own way,” he expounded on getting inspiration from people we look up to. Talking to Boy, each soundbyte is an inspiration sandwich. He quotes Maya Angelou, as he spews his own quotable quotes. “I am not afraid of any question. If I have the gall to ask people questions, then I have to be brave enough to answer anything that is thrown my way.”

Boy’s ‘Bandila’That Boy Abunda wears a tie for his nightly

Bandila newscast is a welcome change. He wore

V neck sweaters for Home Boy, sported casual suits for SNN and continues to don avant-garde designer gear for The Buzz. In an industry that celebrates the random, Boy Abunda’s putting so much thought and 101% effort into anything he sinks his teeth into is something worth emulating. His staying power stems from his intelligence, willingness to share his wisdom with others, not to mention his compassion for people and his passion for his craft. Yes, I am a fan. That he calls me a friend as well is an immense honor.

It was a couple of years back when we last had our one-on-one with his Private Conversations show. He asked the toughest questions, but he asked it in a way that was probing, yet respectful, curious, but not nosy. He made you learn things as you went along. It was a two-way street. He knew how to listen. Again, in a world where it’s all about “Me, myself and I,” people like Boy are quite rare, one-of-a-kind. Ikaw na, birthday Boy!

I was in Escolta the other day revisiting Binondo

with a couple of friends and we went to Savory Restaurant to recall the good ol’ days of my child-hood, and there they were. The whole resto was attuned to Boy Abunda exchanging pleasantries with co-anchors Karen Davila, Ces Orena and Julius Babao. Some may argue about the show’s content, but I talked to Paul Henson of their news depart-ment and agreed to the conclusion that the news is changing right in front of us. And Boy Abunda is always in front of us.

What lies ahead? Well, we can count on Boy to tell us what it is, or he’ll probe deeper to give us the answers to today’s pressing question, with or without a tie.

From all of us here at Philippine sTaR Supreme, a big, bald and bold happy birthday to you, my friend.

* * *(For an exclusive behind-the-scenes look at my one-on-

one interview with the King of Talk, check out twitter.com/officialTIMYAP. Yes, I got my twitter back! Yahoo! Check out my new online show by clicking on my Twitter link.)

About a Boy

photo by RoY maCamproduced by DaViD miLan

The Philippine StarSATURDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2011 G-3

Metro magazine, together with Metro Society, presented designer Oliver Tolentino in his first gala show in the Philippines. His 75 plus-piece couture collection was inspired by Old Hollywood, and was comprised of red carpet gowns and cocktail dresses in vibrant colors with his signature intricate details and finishings, along with a line of unique suit-cut barongs with built-in camisa tsinos. In keeping with his promotion of Filipino fabrics interna-

the homecoming of oliver tolentino

tionally, majority of the collection was made of native fabrics, such as pina, abaca, and raw silk cocoon dyed in rich colors.

“I love doing shows, and my expectations (were) high for this one. The Metrowear Icon

shows are always well done, so I was flattered when the organizers approached me early in the year about being a part of their event,” he said.

The evening’s show was for the benefit of Bantay Bata 163, an organization that Oliver

supports. With the recent slew of typhoons that hit the country, Metro and Metro Society have also added Sagip Kapamilya as a beneficiary. With the very special causes that Samsung Metrowear Icon: Oliver Tolentino are supporting, Metro

has also been fortunate to have the special par-ticipation of actor Piolo Pascual, Kaye Tinga, Audrey Tan-Zubiri, Metro Society editor-in-chief Raul Manzano, and philanthropist Bettina Osmeña as the show’s ambassadors.

they’ll Make You BlushPhilippines, India, South Korea, China, and Japan combine

to form the next big girl group, Asia’s answer to the Spice Girls. Comprised of Alisha Budhrani (India), Natsuko Danjo (Japan), Victoria Chan (China), Ji Hae Lee (South Korea), and our very

The crowd at the SM Mall of Asia Concert Grounds was in for a good night last October 25 cour-tesy of multi-racial supergroup The Black Eyed Peas, who were in Manila for their “Where Is The Love? This is the Love” show.

“I wanna rock right now,” Will.I.Am’s voice blared out of the speakers. Laser beams shot up into the sky, dancers in android costumes appeared. The stage lit up in all its futuristic smoky glory, Will, Fergie, Taboo and Appl.De.Ap materialized, and the crowd exploded.

The show fulfilled every die-hard BEP fans’ dream. The Peas performed their hits including Imma Be, Shut Up, Where Is The Love, and Meet Me Halfway. The

Donnie and Crickette Tantocojake Cuenca Sam milby Robby Carmona audrey and

miguel Zubirimark Higgins and Frances LimErnie Lopez with Kim and Fely atienza

metro EiC michealle Torres Tweetie and mon Gonzales Teresa Herrera

Rep. imelda marcos with designer of the moment oliver Tolentino Kaye Tinga Denise Laurel alex Escat and Rajo Laurel Karylle Tatlonghari

When it comes to Nicholas Sparks’ novels, it’s either you love them or you hate them. He is the type of author that people talk about either to fawn over the leading man in his latest novel, or to criticize his consistent use of sickness, war, or death to spawn an epiphany. He is as controversial as any progenitor of books with such titles as Dear John and A Walk to Remember can be.

W h i l e m a n y proudly declare their Nicholas Sparks fan-dom, most of the peo-ple I know think that admitting to liking his works is one step up from admitting you like Twilight.

After the undeni-ably popular A Walk to Remember and The Notebook, some of his readers have caught on and noticed the boy-

A book to remember

in this case, of a couple from “ d i f f e r e n t sides of the tracks” who fell in love in high school, s e p a r a t e

when they go off to college, and find years later that they still have feelings for each other. It is, according to him, “one of the hardest novels I had to write,” and in fact was written with a particular actor (whose identity he chose to keep secret) in mind.

In fact, the story is set to go into production in August. And if it is to follow the path of The Notebook, then at the very least we can look forward to a good-looking leading couple doing a lot of kissing and grop-ing in the rain.

Interestingly enough, while I’m sure he’s heard the criti-cisms, he continues to stand by his choice of writing love stories. He just wants to write what people want to read, he says, and it happens to be love stories. Nicholas says, “Maybe one day when I’m more prolific, I’ll write different kinds of stories.”

* * * Grab your copy of The Best of Me

at the nearest National Book Store.

falls-in-love-with-girl, you-and-me-against-the-world pattern that his stories have taken, and soon enough his sto-ries have earned the reputation of being incredibly predictable and incredibly sappy, complete with a small-town setting and lines like “our love is like the wind…I can’t see it, but I can feel it.”

To Nicholas, the tragic love story angle is something of a ne-cessity: “all great love stories by definition have to end in tragedy. If there is no great love in the first place, there would be no trag-edy.” For a lot of others though, the pattern began to wear out. And yet, his books continue to top all the bestseller lists, and their film adaptations have all become blockbusters, so maybe there is some truth to his belief.

His new novel, The Best of Me, like the 16 others that went be-fore it, is sure to be welcomed as much as it is spurned. Nicholas himself admits that the novel is similar to The Notebook in that “it’s a story about reunion,”

the BeP farewell concertBy YaSHa BaRRETTo

own Angeli Flores (Philippines), they are collectively known as Blush.

The group is the brainchild of John Niemann, whose goal was to produce an internationally known all-Asian girl group. The group was formed in November 2010 through the Project Lotus talent search, which ran across five Asian countries. After finding the five girls with that unique star quality, Blush was born.

The group is all set to take the world by storm with their blend of feel good dance pop. Their first single Undivided featuring Snoop Dog has reached #3 in the US Billboard Dance Music Chart. In the past year, they have opened for the likes of Justin Bieber in Hongkong, appeared on the TV show So You Think You Can Dance, this week opened for The Black Eyed Peas in Manila. If this is any indication, this group could be the next big thing. They will make the world Blush in no time.

three male Peas did a rendition of Joints and Jam, a hit from the pre-Fergie era. Will.I.Am did a DJ set midway, tossing out everything from Usher to Nirvana, while perched on a silver elevated platform. The audience roared as he asked, “Gusto mo ng party?” Resident bombshell Fergie led the crowd in a sing-along to her

solo hit Big Girls Don’t Cry in her sparkly pink Galaxy Dress.

Apl.De.Ap performed his Fili-pino-inspired hits Bebot, Mare, and The Apl Song, and the anthem of his foundation We Can Be Anything.

The Peas were pumped up for the encore of Boom Boom Pow, The Time (Dirty Bit), and their ulti-mate closer I Gotta Feeling. They got teary-eyed in the latter while Fergie belted out a few lines from U2’s With Or Without You.

The BEP are undoubtedly the most prolific party anthem gen-erators of the new millennium. This show will be their last for the meantime, as the group has an-nounced an indefinite hiatus. But tonight, the Black Eyed Peas gave the fans the time of their lives.

By amanDa LaGo

Fergie, apl.de.ap, Will.i.am and Taboo own the stage as they say goodbye, at least for now.

nicholas Sparks

The Philippine StarG-4 SATURDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2011

There is nothing more queer and terrifying to witness on the week leading up to Halloween than the spectacularly ugly death of a once powerful and poisonous Main Freak like Moammar Gadhafi . .

. or is it Moammar Khadafy . . . or Muammar Al-Gaddafi? Qaddafi, Khaddafy, Gaddafi, Gadfly Khadaffy Duck — we never got his name right, did we? He was the iron-dick Supreme Ruler of politically scrutinized Libya for 42 strange and violent years; the fourth longest-serving non-royal leader since 1900, edging out the crooked Little Big Man of Gabon, Omar Bongo, and next only to the three most pow-erful — and communist — dictators of the 20th century and beyond: Kim Jong-il’s father, Kim Il-sung; Leninist Genera-

Death to the weird

As I was saying before that brief but rude tangent about the spelling of Gadhafi’s name momentarily scrambled my train of thought, if you really want to terrorize civilized homeowners on Halloween Eve, then wear nothing but a gold jockstrap and Gadhafi’s Death Mask — the one with the blood-crusted goatee and the bullet hole on the forehead. The sight of you will melt pumpkins and trigger heart attacks on the spot. Pregnant housewives will break their water as soon they open their front door and kittens will hiss their fangs at you in total fear. You will be a freak show, for sure, like the Bearded Lady of Geneva, or the Frog Boy of Malabon, and you may not get any candy from it, but it will be fun. And that is what Halloween is all about, isn’t it?

Maybe not. Maybe Halloween is truly and exclusively just about fear, in which case the Gadhafi Death Mask will be just as effective. It will scare the living shit out of anyone who sets his eyes on you, because it will accomplish nothing except conjure up images of a man that nobody — except maybe Hugo Chavez — wants to remember, and a brutal killing that although was celebrated and hailed around the world as the long-awaited end of a disgusting tyranny, was a brutal killing nonetheless — and brutal killings are never fun.

Human death is never funny. Absurd, ludicrous, sarcastic maybe; but never funny. Gadhafi was a born clown and a despicable pimp that deserved what he got, but that doesn’t change the fact that the way these revolutionary fighters went to work on him on the last hour of his life was so frightening it made your stomach knot and your throat ache. It was medieval. It stunned you with a warning and a reminder of the oftentimes ignored notion that what goes around will come around, and that if you prod a pony long enough, it will eventually kick your head off your neck with both hind legs.

Go i n g b y empirical evidence, a good part

of me believes that to-day’s teen and twenty-something bros gener-ally dress better than their counterparts in the 2000s. Instead of wearing bootcut jeans, flip flops and graphic tees — de rigueur then,

RoGUe NAtIoN

JOSEMArI uGArTE

on the streetFashion is easy — it’s the get-ting-it-right that’s hard.

How long before a new directional silhou-ette becomes the basic mainstream? When it’s reached a saturation point, meaning when each and every girl is wearing the same sort in the same pairing. Fashion doesn’t have

to be typecast; it’s the rebellious take that always catches my eye. Philippine Fashion Week every year provides a bountiful play-ground for fashion fiends. Here are a standout few who took the trends and twisted them around to make them their own

Dressed by the Internet, for the Internet

lissimo Chiang Kai-shek of China; and the Big Beard of Cuba, Fidel Castro — and we never figured out the proper way to spell the poor bastard’s name. Incredible.

Opie, from the Opie and Anthony Show on SiriusXM satellite radio, tweeted “Gadhafi is dead — someone reach into his wallet and look at his driver’s license so we finally know how to spell his last name!” But even that won’t help. The brain-freezing confusion over the spelling of the dead tyrant’s last name will unfortunately haunt us forever, because, according to The Washington Post, the problem stems from a lack of unified consensus. . . . No shit. Now we are doomed to cope with over 100 different versions of this evil little prick’s name — but to hell with that, I like Gadhafi, so I’m sticking to it.

unthinkable now – this generation is a lot less casual and a lot more tailored, the result, most likely, of having grown up socially connected.

Fashion police: “Hands down, this is the most forced ‘street style’ photo i have ever seen. i hope he got violently drunk later that night and didn’t realize his pocket square wristband had accidentally unfas-tened itself,” says nice Try, Bro.

photo from nTB

master shoemakers: Grenson, available on e-tailer mr. porter, was founded in northampshire, England in 1866.

Behind the seams: Steve Salter (center) recently collaborated with paris-based menswear designer Wooyoungmi and uK retailer Selfridges on “my Coat, my Gift,” which celebrates the label’s no. 51 coat and rising creative talent of the world’s principal talent.

photo from STYLE SaLVaGE

And depending on how you see things, this Internet-approved sar-torial shift is either a plus, a sign that the male species is indeed evolving, or one giant minus.

On the one hand, it’s a good thing that young guys are begin-ning to learn how to upgrade themselves with a little help from the menswear blogosphere. Just think: Would you know your Filson from your Grenson, your Common Projects from your Norse Projects, if you hadn’t checked the latest Selectism post or, admit it, gleaned inspiration from Style Forum?

ConnECTinG doTsThe web, through one’s blogger

peers, has become the modern-day dude’s girlfriend — or boyfriend — but a more critical one. See, your real-life significant other would probably say “Nice suit!” at the sight of you in your dapper best. The Internet, meanwhile, would be less forgiving: “lapel too wide,” “pants too long,” “no cuff show-ing”. That said, the intense fashion scrutiny does build character and pushes a young gentleman to ap-point himself like one.

I find that the best men’s style blogs give you enough room to cultivate your own ideas while connecting dots you hadn’t imag-ined were connectible before. One that hits the bull’s-eye on my pleasure centers just perfectly is Style Salvage, a four-year-old “open discussion” run by Lon-don-based Steve Salter, a.k.a. fashion blogger Susie Bubble’s boyfriend. Aside from its mix of insider information, well-written commentary and great photos, the “emerging and established design talent” that regularly graces the blog is right up my alley — polished but playful. It was in Style Salvage, for instance, that I first read about Albam, a fledgling British independent clothing company. When I finally

brogues — all at the same time and all because the blog gods said so. These days it’s not as monotonous but the menswear looks are just as templated: English dandies, Americana fanat-ics, Neapolitan mob bosses, preppies, Sartorialist wannabes.

The second illustrates “dressed for the Internet,” which implies that one has gone overboard in wanting to impress their blog buddies or cubicle comrades with their uniqueness. Nice Try, Bro, a blog that points out menswear missteps in a snarky, hilarious manner, is like GQ’s The Style Guy for the Tumblr set — only better. If you’re one to pile on item after item and trend after trend in a blind, defensive fury — with no regard for fit, proportion or appropriateness — watch out for NTB. Before you think he’s a troll, however, he has said: “Just because I wouldn’t personally wear something doesn’t mean I disapprove of someone else rocking the exact same gear. Simply put, I don’t discriminate. I regulate every shade of that.”

BETWEEn ClassiC and CRaZyLike most of you, I think that the Web has certainly

opened me up to a lot more information — faster, more instant research — than I would had I gone the traditional print magazine route. But striking that balance between trying to look good and not looking like I tried too hard is something I’m still figuring out.

One way I’ve discovered to push sartorial limits is to merge classic clothes with slightly less predictable pieces. So while I’m a fan of well-made basics by APC or Kitsuné, I jumble it up with stuff that wants to reinvent the wheel, usually by Henrik Vibskov or Comme des Garçons. It’s a neither-here-nor-there ethos that The New York Times’ Kirsten Luce has called “highbrow-lowbrow haute-casual.”

The most important thing I’ve found out while taking ownership of the way I look, though, is that while nothing is too precious to be played with, around or on, I dress to suit real-world interactions first. (I work in a newsroom and I’d want to look professional and respectable, but I also want to look like I know what’s going on, because I do.) Although most young people do lead open-book lives now, the digital oversharing through social networks — and the approval that comes with it — is only a distant second.

* * *ginobambino.tumblr.com

visited their store on Commercial Street, near London’s Spitalfields Market, sometime last year, the experience was almost religious as their UK-made denim and workwear were as awesome as I imagined them to be.

i sEE WHaT yoU did THERE

On the other hand, the freedom and accessibility of the Internet has also given rise to two phenomena: a dress-by-numbers approach to presenting one’s self and extremely forced street style photography. The pair, oddly enough, lie on opposite ends of the individuality spectrum – the former is too robotic and calcu-lated while the latter is, well, gaudy and unsightly. Think Cary Grant and Lapo Elkann, respectively.

The first encapsulates the phrase “dressed by the Internet,” a deroga-tory way to describe a guy who has been reduced to a clone of what he has seen repeatedly on Lookbook. In the recent past, a classic specimen of this tribe would’ve rocked a trilby, a bowtie, a pair of fake hipster glass-es, rolled-up trousers and sockless

sheeRT h e s h e e r

but ton-down h a s b e c o m e quite the blog-gers’ staple, usu-ally worn with high-waisted shorts or flared above-the-knee skirts. But Va-leen’s take is juxtaposed with masculinity: A gossamer shirt with flat front trousers and a soft pompadour brings sexiness to an otherwise androgynous outfit.

MAXIWe’ve seen the

floor sweepers go through reinven-tions from opaque sl im A-lines, to printed maxis, to new above-the-ankle cropped silhouettes. But the one that’s perfect for the holi-day season is a deli-cate skirt finished in soft folds and a slash to the thighs with some skin exposure — just the way Anna Canlas wears hers.

Valeen Vicente

anna Canlas

MILItARYIt doesn’t

have to be all brass buttons, epaulettes and struc-tured shapes — a play on cords, neutral shades and unbalanced-ness also gets it right. Sarah Meier in a Dimple Lim collaboration.

Sarah meierLeAtheRThis high-shine fabric has gotten the

nod of approval even with our hot and humid climate, what with the different reworks for anti-cling: baggy shorts, slouchy tees, and on Mima Fernadez, an easy T-shirt dress.

mima Fernandez

LADYLIKeForget below-the-knee A-line full

skirts; let’s do Old World glamour and close-to-the-body silhouettes. A

peplumed vintage dress in bold red is given even more oomph with con-

trast colored pumps, lace gloves and extra long tassel earrings. pauleen Conde

MAsCULINeMenswear and

tailoring will always be my personal fa-vorite, and Jo-Ann Bitagcol is the peren-nial muse. A mix of timeless elegance and directional an-drogyny, the fashion photographer looks tomboy chic and fabulous in a long-length coat by Joey Samson and cut-off boyfriend jeans.

jo-ann Bitagcol

Gadhafi deserved what he got, but that doesn’t change the fact that the way these revolutionary fighters

went to work on him on the last hour of his life was so frightening

it made your stomach knot.Jesus, did you see the video? Those vengeful, blood-hungry Libyans were so

enraged and full of hate they wanted to tear Gadhafi’s body apart after dragging him out of a drainage pipe like a wounded rat. One of them even tried to sodomize him with a Bicketti. He wept and begged for mercy, hoping beyond hope that his sons would save him, even though one of them, Muatassim, was also killed, and the other, one-time heir apparent Seif al-Islam, had been captured or wounded, according to unconfirmed reports. They dragged him by what was left of his knot-ted hair, pistol-whipped him with his own golden gun, then strapped him onto the hood of a truck and paraded him through the streets of Sirte like wild game shot in a hunting safari. Then, after shooting him point-blank in the face and in the gut, they again strapped his body to a car and paraded it around the nearby city of Misrata, pumping meat cleavers in the air and screaming, “God is great!”

It was literally a bloody mess. But can you blame them? Forty-two years of barbaric and senseless oppression and torture by a criminal dingbat like Col. Gadhafi, who ran Libya like a crank tweaker, with his random idiosyncratic laws and erratic behavior, is too much for anyone to bear. The human rights atrocities were unspeakable at the very least. He exterminated opponents without trials and jailed anyone who made a fuss about it. He hung people in public squares and stadiums and broadcasted these morbid spectacles on TV during the holy month of Ramadan. His notorious death squads hunted down defectors and silenced his critics. He ordered the killing of 1,200 political prisoners in an Abusleem prison. He funded terror groups that bombed a Pan Am flight over Lockerbie, Scotland in 1988, a French jet in Africa the following year, as well as a German disco in 1986.

He was a certified monster and a rotten egg that took too long to crack. But aside from all of this he was a flat-out whacko, and his dangerous weirdness inevitably took the better of him. He had a pronounced borderline personality disorder that made him quirky and unpredictable. According to a former US congressional staffer in a report from The Lookout, a typical visit to the man’s surreal desert hideaway would find him “walking in with white linen pants, loafers with no socks, and a big flowy print shirt, wearing make-up, eye liner . . . and I thought, Caribbean night in the Libyan desert.” The former staffer said he had been advised to bring a gift to the leader. It was suggested that an appropriate gift was “hair products — up-per class, high-priced hair products.” He traveled with a phalanx of sexy female bodyguards, made up and dressed in military fatigues. He always received visitors in a full Bedouin tent, even erecting one in Bedford, New York, in 2009, on property rented from Donald Trump.

According to Jerrold Post, a political psychologist at George Washington Uni-versity, “His language was extremely narcissistic, ‘My people, they all love me, they all love me, they will protect me.’ He found it inconceivable that his people did not all love him.” When the Libyans began uprising against him, Gadhafi claimed they only did this because their Nescafe had been spiked with hallucinogenic drugs.

So there you have it. Moammar Ghadafi’s hideous exit last week in the hands of revolutionary Libyan rebels was the result of a National Acid Freakout. His colorful, attention-grabbing outfits were simply too frightening and confusing for any man with a head full of LSD to accept, so they whacked him in broad daylight and gold pants. A very bad trip indeed. The world will be a notch less stranger and a lot safer without the Lizard King of Tripoli around, which is why I nominate him as this year’s ultimate Halloween bogeyman.