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Rockin' for Hollywood Free Clinic

November 02, 2000|HEIDI SIEGMUND CUDA

Got sidelined by the bubonic plague last week, so the Great Pumpkin and I are gonna haveto get jiggy next year. Seriously, I was so looking forward to Miyagi/Saddle Ranch Chop House owner Larry Pollack's Halloween house party. . . . Speaking of "ill," many Hollywood scenesters owe their health to Hollywood's free clinics. So show some love to Saturday's Silver Lining Benefit for the Hollywood Free Clinic, which will be held at a private Silver Lake estate. You'll not only catch shows by Beck, Rufus Wainwright, Aimee Mann and the mariachi punk band Los Super Elegantes, but get to kick it with the Dust Brothers, Minnie Driver and Robert Downey Jr.

I've had the good fortune of kicking it with Downey, and he's truly one cool, generous cat. Hey, even if you can't afford the pricey $250 ticket, drop a few bucks by the clinic (3324 Sunset Blvd., Silver Lake). For more info, call (323) 665-5384. . . . If you heard a shot ring out in WeHo on Saturday, you were probably within earshot of the Micky's-bar sponsored first annual drag race. Yes kids, men in gowns and stilettos (heels were man-datory!) ran a 30-yard dash down Santa Monica Boulevard, giving me fond memories of San Francisco's gay pride parades during youth. (Cue up Ethel Merman's rendition of "Those Were the Days" in your head, and you'll be right there with me).

This just in: In December, look out for a new Santa Monica Boulevard bar-restaurant called Belly, owned by a couple of actors straight outta Chi-town. A club called Deep just opened at the old Jacks Sugar Shack, by the folks behind Kane. LunaPark's owner, Jean-Pierre, announced this week that he's sold the club to a group of investors from New York. The West Hollywood club's last night is Nov. 11, after which it will close for renovations. It should reopen early next year. . . . Yo, Rob Zombie--I don't care what anybody says: The house of pain you created for Universal Studios' Halloween skulduggery had me scared straight. Like a bat outta hell--actually, more like a squinting ferret--I ran straight in and straight out, pausing only to avoid the dangling body bags.

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