Eight years ago, on this day in Lohan history, all anyone wanted to talk about was the instantly infamous video that had emerged the day before* of a billionaire oil heir unleashing a lengthy, foul-mouthed tirade about Lindsay Lohan and her private parts for the amusement of Paris Hilton as they walked from one Los Angeles nightclub to another. This shocking video came after word of a Hilton/Lohan feud had hit the rumor mill a few days earlier, but were quickly doused by Paris’ PR rep Elliot Mintz.
Let’s talk about Elliot Mintz for a minute. This little weirdo seems to have been an ambitious 1960s LA radio DJ-turned publicist who went from associations with John Lennon and Bob Dylan in the 1970s, to representing 2000s-era show-biz flotsam and jetsam like Chris Brown and the aforementioned Paris Hilton. Even though the only source I have on this is poor at best, my gut reaction tells me that Lennon’s association with Mintz has been exaggerated. In the tepid tell-all that Fred Seaman wrote following Lennon’s death, he claimed that Mintz was a friend of Yoko’s whose company Lennon more tolerated than enjoyed. Anyway, Elliot Mintz’s odyssey through 6 decades of American show business has got to be fascinating. This New York Times profile written a few months after the firecrotch incident is far too short to encompass that, but it’s all we have for now.
Getting back to the video in question, a day after Elliot Mintz denied the rumors of a Lohan/Hilton feud, Paris was filmed manically false-cackling while her friend and fellow super-rich adult Brandon Davis made many an eyebrow-raising claim about Lindsay Lohan. His rant began as follows:
Lindsay Lohan has the stinkiest, fucking sweaty, orange vagina anyone has ever seen. I haven’t seen it. She wants me to see it but it shits out freckles, it’s orange and it fucking smells like diarrhea, so fuck off. And who would want to fuck her? Who? Wilmer? Is Wilmer in, like, a mariachi band? And she’s got a firecrotch that all you guys want to suck because you’re fucking desperate.
At this point our cameraman loses Davis for a second as other photogs and cameramen get between him and the Hiltons (Paris’ more camera shy sister Nicky is present as well). One of those cameramen seems to get gently hit by a car in his zeal to capture the scene. As this occurs, Davis briefly turns his attention to the car’s driver and says, “Fuck you, you dirty whore.” And then returns to Lohan:
It’s an embarrassing thing to say but Lindsay Lohan is a firecrotch.
After this pearl, Davis and the Hiltons and their crew all disappear into some nightspot. When they emerge from the club, now with Elliot Mintz in the mix, Davis, drawing heavily from a cigarette, picks up where he left off:
Ok, Lindsay Lohan, would you fuck her? Would you fuck her? Just tell me the truth. Her dad‘s hotter than her, alright. We think she’s a firecrotch. Or we know. I mean, we don’t think that, we know, it’s obvious. Red pubic hair comes from inside her. She’s like an orange freak.
At this point something incredible happens as Davis — who has clearly been drinking and there might have been some coke — begins to sort of bully Elliot Mintz by grabbing at his tie and spouting off some unintelligible bullshit about how the red tie looks like Lindsay’s vagina, to which Mintz responds by simply putting his tie back into place and gently reprimanding with a “Brandon, please.” While nearly every extra in this grand production warrants a second glance and causes one to wonder “what’s that guy’s story?”, Mintz really takes the cake as far as sticking out like a sore thumb goes. How did that guy end up there?
The scene ends with Davis dripping in sweat in the passenger seat of Paris’ car with the paparazzi still egging him on. He obliges them by saying “firecrotch” 3 more times and reveling in the fact that Lohan’s latest film didn’t trouble the box office much.
It was a pretty sour affair that would have gone largely unnoticed had TMZ‘s cameras not been there to capture the forced mirth of these entitled dimwits and bring it to the attention of anyone who was bored at work and sitting in front of a computer.
Lindsay never officially rebutted Davis’ claims so there may still be some question as to whether or not her vagina shits out freckles. We’ll never know. But Linds did make a point to hang out with both Davis’ ex-girlfriend and Paris’ ex-boyfriend in the days that followed. Finally, ten days later, Davis issued an apology to Page Six of the New York Post, “My behavior on May 16 was inexcusable. What started out as a joke got completely carried away and I am horrified at the words that came out of my mouth. I consider Lindsay a friend and I hope she accepts my sincere apology for my reprehensible actions last week.”
*I’m a day late in posting this, as usual.
Glad someone pointed out the weirdness of Eliot Mintz, who wasn’t just “an ambitious 1960s LA radio DJ…” but a DJ for the Pacifica network – specifically KPFK – the counter-culture’s favorite station in the hippie era. Which makes all the weirder his current status as suck-up, PR flack for moneyed ephemera such as P.Hilton. That his features were designed in a wind tunnel doesn’t help matters.
Thanks for the input. Yeah, this guy definitely has what has to be an interesting story. I wish someone would make a documentary or a lengthy biographical magazine article where he tells us how his career happened.