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Highland Park residents torn over business impact of Quentin Tarantino film project

Highland Park residents torn over business impact of Quentin Tarantino film project

CBS News3 days ago
Highland Park residents are at odds over the impact that a week's worth of filming for the latest Hollywood project could have on their city and businesses.
It's rumored that Netflix is behind the production, a Quentin Tarantino written follow-up to the 2019 hit "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood," starring Brad Pitt and directed by David Fincher, who was given control by Tarantino though he wrote and directed the first film.
"It's a Quentin Tarantino project, and if you keep your eyes peeled you might see Brad Pitt," said Otto Dimas, a Highland Park resident who is one of many excited to see Hollywood return to his city.
The production transformed one of the Highland Park's main thoroughfares, Figueroa Street, into a scene straight out of the 1960s, as Pitt reprises his role of beloved stuntman Cliff Booth.
Not everyone is ecstatic about the cinematography, which calls for a five-day long two-block closure of Figueroa. It began on July 28 and is expected to last until Aug. 2, lasting from 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. each time.
"I have a 22-person staff, half of which relies on tips to pay their rent," said Matthew Glassman, the owner of the Greyhound Bar and Grill. He says that the money they received for impacts to traffic and parking weren't quite what they were expecting.
"This is the neighborhood that 'Reservoir Dogs' was shot in 1990, so we want people to be shooting here. It just has felt like the people that have been working with us who seem to be, for all intents and purposes working in good faith, might not understand the impact that they're having," Glassman said.
Dimas said that the film could bring a new crowd to Highland Park.
"Think of it as free advertising to hangout in Highland Park, where it's the set of 'Once Upon a Time in Hollywood 2,'" he said.
Glassman said that there have been many films and television shows shot in Highland Park in the decade that he's been in the area, and that there's rarely communication between business owners and city leaders before the productions begin.
Despite that, he did say that people working on the current production are some of the best he's worked with and that he's working to find other ways to get extra money to his employees for the temporary impact.
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Leg drop to legacy: Fox Nation charts the influence of 'larger-than-life' wrestling titan Hulk Hogan
Leg drop to legacy: Fox Nation charts the influence of 'larger-than-life' wrestling titan Hulk Hogan

Fox News

time14 minutes ago

  • Fox News

Leg drop to legacy: Fox Nation charts the influence of 'larger-than-life' wrestling titan Hulk Hogan

He was larger-than-life — a hero in red and yellow who body-slammed his way into American pop culture. But now, Hulk Hogan has taken his final bow. News of the wrestling legend's passing shocked the world in late July, inspiring an outpouring of reactions and tributes, even one from the president of the United States. To honor the titan of the ring, Fox Nation has unveiled a brand-new special capturing the heart and history of Hulk Hogan's legacy. "He was a broad character with broad appeal, played by a big man who loved this country," "Fox & Friends" co-host Brian Kilmeade said. "His story is heroic and complicated and full of surprises, and we have a great cast of characters assembled here to tell that story." Kilmeade hosts the half-hour-long special that debuted on the streaming platform on Thursday. The story begins with Terry Bollea – Hogan's birth name – playing a bass guitar in his youth. His size and musculature caught attention beyond the music, however, and with a body built for the sport, he was drawn to wrestling early. "He grew up as a wrestling fan. He would sit in the second row… and watch Dusty Rhodes and Superstar Billy Graham. Those were his heroes," said Dave Meltzer, a wrestling journalist whose career dates back to the '70s. Meltzer is one of many personalities featured in "The Life of Hulk Hogan" special. He shared his own reflections on Hogan's life and career, his memories beginning decades ago. As the special explores, coming up in the 1970s worked to Hogan's advantage. The local nature of wrestling at the time made him a "big fish" in a small pond right away. Meltzer had never seen anyone like Hogan. Despite standing tall at 6'7" and weighing in at over 300 pounds, he was still "green" in the sport, but Meltzer knew right away he was destined to become a "big star." It wasn't long before he captured the attention of wrestling icon Vince McMahon, Sr., who was the promoter of the New York territory of the World Wide Wrestling Federation (WWWF), which would later become the World Wrestling Foundation (WWF) then World Wrestling Entertainment (WWE). McMahon needed a popular hook to promote the up-and-coming Hogan, so he borrowed from a popular TV series at the time. Thus, the idea of the big, blonde all-American hero "Hulk Hogan" was born, and, at the backdrop of the Cold War and Reagan's "Morning in America" messaging, the timing couldn't have been better. Hogan went on to the cinema, facing off against Sylvester Stallone's Rocky Balboa in "Rocky III." He became the face of McMahon's company as it went national, a pop culture icon and an "America First" patriot. The special documents Hogan's tie-in to President Donald Trump decades before he assumed office, the rise of "sports entertainment," and Hogan's role in Trump's 2024 campaign. "He was the biggest name in the WWF and then the WWE… of all time," Fox News contributor Joe Concha said while appearing in the installment. "You will never match Hulk Hogan, Hulkamania and that whole movement," he added. Hogan died in Florida on July 24 after suffering a heart attack. He was 71-years-old. To learn more about the life and legacy of Hulk Hogan, subscribe to Fox Nation.

One is straight. The other is gay. Together, these best friends are reimagining masculinity
One is straight. The other is gay. Together, these best friends are reimagining masculinity

Yahoo

time29 minutes ago

  • Yahoo

One is straight. The other is gay. Together, these best friends are reimagining masculinity

They met in a Brooklyn theater nearly two decades ago — an audition, a role, a spark of camaraderie. Jonathan Gregg was a fresh face in New York City, auditioning for a production of Six Degrees of Separation. Tom Felix was the director. The two hit it off immediately: witty banter, creative chemistry, and, yes, a little bit of undeniable mutual attraction. Keep up with the latest in + news and politics. 'I thought he was super hot and just wanted to keep him around,' Felix, who is gay, admits now, grinning, with Gregg, who is straight, laughing in the Zoom window beside him during their interview with The Advocate. But the friendship that followed, spanning city apartments, career pivots, marriages, late-night texts, vacations, and barbecues, grew into something beyond flirtation or creative synergy. It became family. Sunday, on International Friendship Day, they're not just celebrating a nearly 20-year bond; they're putting it under a mic. Their new podcast, No Homo with Jonathan and Tom, is a weekly riff on life, masculinity, queerness, parenting, politics, and everything in between. 'Two best friends, one straight, one gay,' as they like to say, 'gassing each other up as the world burns.' Behind the riffs and running gags is something quieter and more binding: a friendship that's teaching listeners how expansive masculinity can be. Related: L Word alums Leisha Hailey and Kate Moennig wrote the book on queer Opposites, but alike Gregg, 43, lives in Queens with his wife and two young kids. He now works as director of operations for a spirits portfolio—think bourbon, vodka, rum, ready-to-drinks. He's magnetic, unapologetic, and often the louder of the two. He's also a popular social media influencer: 127,000 followers on TikTok, 140,000 on Instagram, and counting. Gregg grew up in northern Alabama, in what he calls a 'sheltered, conservative' environment shaped by church life and Southern Baptist teachings. At the time, he considered his church progressive. His pastor had once refused to join a denomination-wide boycott of Disney over the company's perceived LGBTQ+ support. 'I thought of my church as a relatively progressive place,' he said, though in hindsight, he recognizes how narrow that bar was. Still, the experience stuck with him. 'Why would you cut out something in your life because they're being kind to a group of people?' he asked. As he left Alabama, first for Nashville and then New York, the distance made clear how insular his upbringing had been and how much space there was to grow. 'Exposure is the antidote to hate and fear,' he said. 'Knowing people, not being scared to know people, that's it.' Felix, 46, is quieter and more careful. A former theater director and television development exec, he now works in corporate communications and lives nearby in Astoria with his fiancé, Naquan, and their kittens, Fish and Chips. He's the one who overthinks. Felix grew up in a working-class Catholic household in central Connecticut, where he says it took time to make peace with being gay. By junior year of high school, he had come out to himself. By senior year, he was quietly living a double life, closeted at school, where he was prom king and class president, but beginning to explore his sexuality through community theater. 'I was ready to be gay,' he said. 'I just wasn't ready to mess with everything else.' He waited until college to come out to others, on his very first night in New York, sitting in a diner with a group of fellow freshmen. When someone asked if he was gay, he set down his grilled cheese and said, for the first time out loud, 'Yes. I'm gay.' Coming out to family and hometown friends took longer. And the bullying he endured as a kid, taunts for doing theater, not playing sports, still lingers in memory. 'It was something I dealt with all through high school,' he said. Both men exude strong 'daddy vibes,' physically muscular, emotionally available, and unmistakably at ease in their own skin. They've shared bedrooms, wedding aisles, and dance floors. And when they hit the right party, Gregg sheds his shirt beside Felix in a sea of sweaty, writhing men. 'He's come with me to a Rekt party or a Honey Dijon party,' Felix says. 'I wouldn't necessarily call them circuit, but definitely like a gay tech house party.' Their rhythms may differ, but the friendship is seamless. Felix officiated at Gregg's wedding. When Felix and Naquan get married next year, Gregg will return the favor. 'We've had some really strange and exciting experiences together,' Felix says. 'And I just think there's such a long history now… I trust him completely.' Asked if the relationship has ever crossed into romantic or sexual territory, both are disarmingly candid. 'Tom has made the most convincing arguments to be with a man I've ever heard,' Gregg jokes. 'But I'm in a committed monogamous marriage. And I'm straight. Tom knows that. And he respects it.' Felix, without missing a beat: 'And I'm still trying.' Paint your nails, punch Nazis Their closeness has shaped Gregg's public persona, too. Through the Trump years, he coined a slogan, 'Paint Your Nails, Punch Nazis,' that went viral and stuck. Now it's on T-shirts, stickers, and plenty of merch. The phrase grew out of lived experience. Bullied as a kid, Gregg bulked up and leaned into hypermasculinity as protection. Later, when his son asked to paint his nails, Gregg painted his too — and kept going. Tom Felix (left) and Jonathan Gregg at a costume Jonathan Gregg & Tom Felix (provided) 'My wife and I always wanted to buck gender norms,' he says. 'When our son was born, we made pink tank tops that said, 'It's a boy' on the front, and 'Gender norms are for the weak' on the back.' It wasn't about rebellion. It was about modeling freedom. 'Even if my son never paints his nails again,' Gregg says, 'he'll remember that a masculine man in his life did. That's powerful.' He and Felix have made that kind of modeling part of the show, silly, serious, or somewhere in between. Building a friendship and a show while reclaiming "no homo" The podcast was years in the making. They'd joked about it forever. But the 2024 election, and the political darkness that followed, finally gave them the push. 'I was just tired of screaming into my phone,' Felix says. 'I wanted to use my voice for something more.' So they hit record. Then they did it again. And again. The format is loose: a weekly check-in, some current events, a few personal revelations, and always—always—a vibe. No Homo launched in late June. New episodes drop every Thursday. As of this week, six have aired, and the show is already finding its footing. Last weekend, Felix was recognized for the first time at The Cock, the legendary gay bar on Manhattan's Lower East Side. 'Are you the guy from the podcast?' a man named Dan from Albuquerque, New Mexico, asked. 'I'll always have The Cock,' Felix joked on the show. Dan also passed on a compliment for Gregg: 'If you flutter your eyelashes fast enough, he thinks you just might float away.' Before they ever pressed record, the name sparked debate. No Homo was originally coined as a reflexive disclaimer, a way for straight men to distance themselves from anything that might be perceived as gay. The phrase exploded in the 1990s and early 2000s hip-hop, where artists used it to assert dominance, affirm heterosexuality, or preempt ridicule after saying anything remotely affectionate. It was defensive, insecure, and often deeply homophobic. Gregg and Felix know all that. And they named their show No Homo anyway. 'We wanted to hold a mirror to the absurdity of it,' Felix says. 'The phrase itself is so rooted in anxiety, about gender, about orientation, about being perceived. And we wanted to flip it.' 'It's the dumbest, most hilarious thing straight men ever came up with,' Gregg adds. 'And now here we are, one straight, one gay, saying, yeah, no homo, and also all the homo. Deal with it.' The title is provocative by design. But it's not empty provocation. It's about subversion, about confronting cultural discomfort with male closeness. By reclaiming the phrase, they're turning its original anxiety on its head, and replacing it with something grounded, funny, and emotionally honest. 'We're in on the joke,' Felix says. 'But we're also dead serious about it.' Jonathan Gregg (left) and Tom Jonathan Gregg & Tom Felix (provided) In the sixth episode, Gregg shared a message from a listener, what he jokingly called a 'no-homer slash bromo,' who'd reached out to a gay friend after hearing their ongoing conversations about friendship and flirtation. The straight man asked: 'Do you find me attractive?' The friend said yes, but explained that because the man was married, he hadn't said anything before. 'It made him feel really good,' Gregg said. 'And frankly, it's kind of always been in the back of my mind — that's the best service we can offer from this podcast.' 'There is a male loneliness epidemic in the country,' he added. 'There's a void of love from men—how they experience it, how they accept it, how they show it. And I'm telling you, there would be less of a loneliness issue if you just make some gay friends and let 'em flirt with you. It's the best you're ever going to feel.' A May 2025 Gallup poll found that 25 percent of American men ages 15 to 34 reported feeling lonely 'a lot' of the previous day, more than young men in 35 other high-income democratic countries. In the U.S., young men are significantly lonelier than both young women and older adults. Experts link the crisis to long-standing cultural norms that discourage boys from expressing vulnerability, often leaving them emotionally isolated. 'There are some ways to feel a little better,' Felix added. Gregg didn't miss a beat: 'If you and your gay friend decide you want to go down that path, that's totally cool too. And if you don't, then take the flirting, take the compliments, take the gas up, and know that they'll probably give you a really good blowjob if you want it.' 'I did try to grab his dick on my 30th birthday,' Felix admitted in his Advocate interview. 'That's true. But I was being a real tease,' Gregg chimed in. 'So even I can forgive that one.' But was it no homo or was it homo? 'Yeah, it was no homo,' Gregg said. 'It might've been after the fact. It might have no homoed after the fact.' Gregg and Felix aren't trying to be icons. They're just trying to be honest. To show what friendship can look like when men stop fearing softness, stop fearing each other. 'If more straight men had gay best friends,' Gregg says, 'the world would be a better place. Period.' He's not wrong. Happy International Friendship Day. Catch below. - YouTube This article originally appeared on Advocate: One is straight. The other is gay. Together, these best friends are reimagining masculinity Solve the daily Crossword

Sunday Conversation: Maren Morris On New Music, Women Scorned And More
Sunday Conversation: Maren Morris On New Music, Women Scorned And More

Forbes

time31 minutes ago

  • Forbes

Sunday Conversation: Maren Morris On New Music, Women Scorned And More

Maren Morris' superb new album, DREAMSICLE, is an infectious, engaging collection of songs largely rooted in pop. This has led to a whole hullabaloo about Morris leaving country behind, the same way it did when Neil Young began playing synths in the '80s, when Joni Mitchell embraced her love of jazz, hell, when Bob Dylan plugged in at the Newport Folk Fest 60 years ago and got called a 'Judas.' As a certain Mr. Shakespeare coined it, 'Much ado about nothing.' Every great artist experiments musically, this should be considered the norm, not the deviation. Of course, the gifted Grammy-winning Morris, who released her debut album at 15, should be expected to change things up after 20 years. Just ask Miles, Prince, Joni, Bowie, Tom Waits, Rod Stewart, Taylor, Willie, the list goes on. Morris, now 35, is growing as an artist. And the boldness musically and lyrically of DREAMSICLE reflects an artist gaining confidence and finding new paths to sojourn as her voice grows stronger with age and experience. I spoke with Morris about the new album, touring and much more. Steve Baltin: You just played We Ho Pride. How'd that go? Maren Morris: Oh, it was so fun. It was my first Pride to perform at. So, the fact that it was the West Hollywood one felt really official, but it was so fun. It was such a beautiful night out and the energy in the crowd was so just optimistic and it just gave me a jolt like, 'Okay, we're going to be all right.' Baltin: I know Qveen Herby opened for you. I just had dinner with her and her husband last week, so they were telling me how much fun they had opening for you and how lovely it was. Morris: Oh my gosh, I've been such a fan of her. I was listening to her album so much during COVID and back in the Karmin days too, but like the Qveen Herby era has been…I met her that night for the first time and she was so sweet. And you can just tell she's a songwriter. I love picking people's brains that come up with turns of phrases like she does, but then also in a live way, just so fun to watch side stage before our show. Baltin: You say that about songwriters and in fact, we also just spoke to Julia Michaels in the last two weeks. Morris: Oh, you're naming all my favorite people. Yeah, she's such a gem of a human. And I'm so happy that we've been able to collaborate so much over the last couple years. She's just a real one. Baltin: We had the best conversation about the song, 'Go F**k Yourself,' and how much fun she had doing that. We were talking about how liberating that sentiment is. Are there songs on this record that had the same feeling for you? I love the honesty, for instance, of 'Bed No Breakfast.' Morris: Thanks. Yeah, there are a couple of moments like that on the album of not where I outright say like, 'Oh f**k yourself,' but definitely 'Too Good' is one of those that's very brash and then 'Lemonade,' like the intro of the album was also in that sort of acidic lane of like I've had enough. Yeah, a woman scorned who also writes songs is a thing to behold. A beautiful, scary thing to behold. Baltin: Every great artist has gone from genre to genre. It's the most natural thing in the world. So are there those artists that have really influenced you in the way that they have moved around musically? Morris: Yeah, I think all of my favorite records, artists, they're so different. Like if you listen to Sheryl Crow between Tuesday Night Music Club and The Globe Sessions there's a big musical shift, but you can still obviously tell the heartbeat is Sheryl's writing, her voice. Then Patty Griffin is another one that I have had a long-time obsession with. Flaming Red is one of my favorite albums, but it's also the most sonically ambitious album I've ever heard. And I guess it would be considered a rock album, but it's just Patty. So, it's very singer/songwriter-y and folky in moments, but then she's going balls to the wall on these drums to kick the album off. There are so many examples of people that genre blend, genre shift. I think that's the name of the game is not copying and pasting your work over and over and over again, just to make a buck. I think it's exciting when people do something that's out of leftfield. Baltin: I think as an artist that's the only way to also keep yourself happy and interested. Otherwise, you're going to lose your mind. Morris: I've always have been influenced by a lot of different kinds of music. And I think that comes out in my own work. But depending on who I'm writing with or collaborating with, who's producing, every day is different. So, sometimes for me, honing in on a lane has never been a thing. It's also not something I should have to do. I love that with this record DREAMSICLE I can weave between lanes pretty seamlessly and it feels still at the end of the day like a cohesive project because it's the same brain, the same voice, the same heart. Especially when I'm going to tour rehearsals next week was like, I really want to work up songs that I'm excited about, that I loved making in the studio that kept me going each day. Baltin: What are your favorite women scorned songs? Morris: The ones that like come to mind are definitely like, because I was just listening to it, 'You're So Vain,' Carly Simon. A recent one is Taylor Swift's 'The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived,' that's a really good one. Then also not to circle back, but I just like love Julia Michaels EP so much. I think that she's so good at having a unique take each time, there is a scorn to be had. Even with 'Scissors,' the one that I'm on, I was like this is such a beautiful way of saying I don't care about you enough to mourn this relationship if you decide to end it. I'm good either way. She just has such a unique way of spinning something like that Baltin: Let's come onto the tour for one second. What are the songs that you're most excited to do live? What are the songs you are most excited to see how people responded to them? Morris: Weirdly, it's all the ballads. I think the one I'm really excited to work up with the band because it was such a spiritual experience writing it. And it's literally about losing religion. But the song 'Holy Smoke,' I'm really excited to work up with the band because there are so many layers musically that Jack Antonoff added. Lots of backing vocals that I layered, Laura Belts, my songwriter friend, layered and it just has this really communal sing-along element to it. So, I think in a live setting it's one of those songs that I love on the album; it's beautiful, we produced it beautifully. But you know when you're writing something that is going to slap live. Baltin: What were the songs that have surprised you most over the years, those ones in your catalog that have become live favorites? Morris: There's a song from my first record. It's called "Once." And it's just a really vocally strenuous song live, it just takes you to another dimension. I'm the one singing it and I feel like I accessed some different astral plane when I'm singing that song. It's just so guttural. But over the years, like the last eight, nine years it has been an audience favorite, even though it was never a single. It's a really heavy song. But live it is just this transcendent experience, and you never know that thing until you go and do it in the show. So, it's one of those songs I always have a tough time taking out of the set list because I just know it's going to bring the house down each time.

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