And in This Corner . . .

This is the column where I’m naming names.

Hollywood is blowing up. Something akin to gold fever has struck promoters, owners and the like, and vicious fights are breaking out as they scramble to stake their claim on the vein. Unfortunately, the hostilities detonate in my ear every time I step out, with battling factions telling their side of each story. No one seems to be taking my “Can’t you all just get along?” advice--despite the obvious fact that they’re all in this together.

Then, I had a vision. I was dressed like Mills Lane, only my robe was more fitted. I was part judge, part referee, and all those A-list club players were duking it out in the ring, two at a time. I won’t say whom I matched with whom, but I envisioned all the people who run the biggest and/or most successful nightclubs in Hollywood: Brent Bolthouse, Bryan Rabin, Mike Messex, the Davis brothers, the Klines, Sal Jenco (you’ll be boxing me, baby), Josh Richman, Rick Calamaro, Greg Wadley. Art, Alan, give me a call because I’d like the bouts to be at the Play Room. Fittingly, the scene’s very own Betty done-good, Rose MacGowan, can be the card girl. . . . And Merv, next time the Coconut Club falls out of the night-life listings, just call me direct.