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Jun 2, 2011 11:03:23 GMT -5
Post by The Mask on Jun 2, 2011 11:03:23 GMT -5
So in 1986 she was 15 yo and they want me to believe that the girl in the vid is DENISE at that age? No way, man. Wiki gone bananas. Yes, because she looks 16-17 in this pic so....
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Jun 2, 2011 13:26:03 GMT -5
Post by artemis on Jun 2, 2011 13:26:03 GMT -5
So the girl in the vid is not DENISE, thats all. The pic above is, as I said, from 1989, DENISE being 18 by that time. Just to clarify the whole stuff.
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Jun 2, 2011 13:57:55 GMT -5
Post by The Mask on Jun 2, 2011 13:57:55 GMT -5
Yes, right before her demise.
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Jun 2, 2011 14:03:32 GMT -5
Post by artemis on Jun 2, 2011 14:03:32 GMT -5
Yes, DENISE before her demise, a kind to say that...
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Jun 2, 2011 17:54:33 GMT -5
Post by The Mask on Jun 2, 2011 17:54:33 GMT -5
More on Denise:
California Girl
"She was fairly quiet," investment analyst Jon Fellows, who claims to have shared Richards' first kiss in seventh grade, tells PEOPLE. "You wouldn't have thought she would become a star." But by high school, when Richards' family moves to Oceanside, Calif., the skinny kid with the glasses emerges from her shell and starts working part-time as a model. She moves to L.A. after graduating high school in 1989, where she spends years staying afloat with bit parts on television shows including Saved by the Bell, Married With Children and Beverly Hills, 90210.
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Post by artemis on Jun 4, 2011 5:14:14 GMT -5
FINATRA, the moron...
"Sinatra, my Jekyll and Hyde husband: His fourth wife lays bare his terrifying moo swings and sadistic manipulation
My first encounter with the fiery Italian side to Frank Sinatra came during a late-night game of charades.
His pals were divided into two teams, and I was put in charge of a big brass clock. So, naturally, it fell to me to call time on Frank's team after they'd failed to guess his charade.
'Three minutes are up,' I cried gleefully.
His team-mates began to howl their protests, but the look on Frank's face as he rose to his feet silenced them all.
'Who made you timekeeper anyway?' he barked, his eyes like blue laser beams.
'Why, you did!' I replied.
Frank snatched the clock from my lap and gripped it tightly in his hands. For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me with it.
His expression was full of anger and frustration, but there was something else — desire. I think I knew then that something would happen between us someday.
Still, I refused to be intimidated. So I stared him out until he turned and hurled the clock against the door, shattering it into pieces.
Springs, coils and shards of glass flew across the room. The clock face lay upturned on the floor, its hands for ever fixed at a few minutes after 4am.
It was Pat Henry, the comic who used to open Frank's Las Vegas shows, who broke the ensuing hush.
'I know what that charade is, Francis,' he said. 'It was As Time Goes By.'
Frank's face cracked into a broad grin. To everyone's relief, the moment of danger had passed.
At that point, I was just a next-door neighbour who happened to be married to his friend, Zeppo Marx — the straight man in the Marx Brothers.
But, already, I was aware that a big part of Frank's attraction was the sense of danger he exuded, like an underlying, ever-present tension.
In a way, Frank Sinatra had always been part of my life. I first heard the singer everybody was talking about when I was a 15-year-old butcher's daughter living in Wichita, Kansas, and the tenderness in his voice melted my tomboy heart.
In my late teens, my family moved to Long Beach, California, where I took lessons in modelling and won the Miss Long Beach beauty pageant. By the age of 21, I was married to a part-time bartender and singer called Bob Oliver, who reckoned he sounded like Sinatra.
After I gave birth to my only child, Bobby, my husband simply lost interest and I fell in love with a singer called Joe Graydon who — you guessed it — sang Sinatra standards.
When he accepted a job as a DJ in Las Vegas, I went with him and became a $150-a-week showgirl, gliding across a stage in towering head-dresses that featured anything from the Statue of Liberty to the Eiffel Tower.
Alas, Joe lost his job, and money problems soured our once-beautiful romance. That's when a well-tailored, middle-aged man started appearing every night to watch me rehearse.
At 56, Zeppo Marx had taken early retirement from showbusiness to do the things he enjoyed — gambling, women and golf.
During the winter of 1958, I accepted an invitation to visit him at his home in Palm Springs, California, and fell in love with the place — but not with Zeppo, who was 26 years older than me.
He did, however, have charm. And he could offer me another life, far away from my punishing schedule and monthly scramble to pay the bills.
After we married in 1959, my son and I moved into his house in Palm Springs, then a little desert town with a tremendous sense of style and glamour.
But being a 'desert rat' took some getting used to. Most 'rats' played golf early in the morning, when it was cool, followed by lunch, a round of tennis, and a game of gin rummy before cocktails and dinner.
The place was so full of movie stars, such as Gregory Peck and Kirk Douglas, that I almost took them for granted.
I'd often nod hello to our neighbour Frank Sinatra, who lived in a house known as The Compound, when our carts crossed on the golf course.
Then, one day, he called me out of the blue. His ex-wife Ava Gardner was due in town, and he'd had a tennis court built specially for her — even though she was only staying a few days. Could I organise a doubles match for her?
When I arrived at his court with two friends, I found Ava's maid mixing Moscow Mules at the side of the court. I think Ava was half-looped before we even started. Frank tried to make her jealous by flirting with me — even cornering me up against the chain-link fence — but I'd figured out his game.
By the late Sixties, Zeppo and I were going out twice a week with Frank and his friends, or having dinner at The Compound.
Those who drank and stayed up till the early hours — Bill Holden, Robert Mitchum, John Wayne, Glenn Ford and Orson Welles — were part of his in-crowd.
Those who preferred a more staid lifestyle — such as Tony Bennett, Fred Astaire, Bing Crosby and Henry Fonda — were seldom invited, though Frank would often turn up at their places for breakfast at sunrise.
When we went out, Frank almost always picked up the tab. He couldn't have cared less about money, and spent cash like a drunken sailor, giving $100 tips to busboys and waitresses.
He was rarely drunk, and would order a Jack Daniel's on the rocks, take a sip or two, abandon it, then call the waiter to 'bring another round'.
He carried on like that all evening, completely in charge of his faculties while everyone else got smashed. Meanwhile, he was flirting with every female, but so discreetly that only the women noticed.
When everyone was loaded, he'd cook some pasta until it was al dente, then mix it with two eggs and Parmesan cheese — a perfect 4am meal.
He was very particular about the consistency. One night, we were in an Italian restaurant with him when he noticed that the pasta was soggy.
Frank picked up his plate and threw it against the wall. Before walking out, he examined the mess of splattered tomato sauce and, using his finger, wrote: 'Picasso.'
Later, the restaurant owner put a frame around this unorthodox work of art.
As for me, I had no intention of becoming yet another Sinatra trophy. Not that I was happy with Zeppo: I'd caught him red-handed with some other women on his yacht — and, tellingly, his infidelity hadn't hurt anything other than my pride. Our 12-year marriage was effectively dead.
Frank, then 55, had for years treated me with nothing but courtesy.
Then, at a gin rummy party one night, he suddenly looked at me as though he was seeing me for the first time. Zeppo was sitting a few feet away, oblivious to the drama that was about to unfold.
Flashing me a lopsided smile, Frank led me into his den to find a drink and asked me to sit with him for a while.
Once he turned on the charm, my defences rolled away like tumbleweed. When he pulled me into his arms, I found myself returning his kiss with just as much ardour.
Nothing more would happen for months. That's the way Frank liked to play his game: he'd set me spinning in his orbit and it was only a matter of time before gravity drew me in.
Some months later, he heard that I was planning a vacation in Monaco with my son and some friends.
He was going there, too, he said: maybe we could meet up? I shrugged my shoulders. 'Sure,' I replied as nonchalantly as I could, although my stomach was doing backflips.
On my first night in Monaco, I found three dozen white roses waiting on my bedside table. The next day, he drew me aside and said he wanted to see me later. Reddening, I nodded.
After hosting a dinner for 12, he took Bobby and me on to the casino. At around two in the morning, Frank turned to my son and said: 'All right, buster, time to go and get some sleep. I'm going to take your mother back to the hotel to have a drink with friends.'
Bobby's expression betrayed no hint of what he might be thinking. I hoped mine didn't either.
In Frank's Packard Sedan, I spotted a familiar item half-hidden in the passenger well.
It was my canvas beach bag, which must have been sneaked out of my room by one of his entourage while I was out. Folded neatly inside were a swimsuit and an outfit for the beach in the morning.
At his two-bedroom suite at the Hôtel de Paris, with its penthouse view of the harbour, Frank opened the bottle of champagne that was waiting on ice.
Lucky girl, I thought to myself. Remember this moment. After toasting each other, we moved closer, then he enfolded me in the gentlest embrace. A few hours later, we watched as the dawn crept through the windows and clung to each other ever tighter.
Towards the end of an uneventful day of pretending nothing had happened, I met a group of friends and stepped into one of two waiting cars that were taking us to a dinner. Before we knew it, we were on board Frank's G2 Gulfstream jet, headed for Athens.
'I fancied Greek food tonight,' he explained, laughing.
All through that summer, the pace Frank set was exhausting. He wouldn't let anyone slow down; we were out every day and expected to party every night.
One day, I told him: 'I really can't go out tonight, Frank. I'm sorry, but I'm too tired.' His eyes took on a glint. 'You're going, Barbara. You're going tonight, and you're going every night.'
As I was soon to learn, this was non-negotiable. But he was also tender and generous. He'd walk past my chair humming I've Got A Crush On You or brush his fingers against my shoulder as if by accident.
Once, he led me into a shop and bought me some fabulous jewellery. I wanted to ask: 'What happens after Monaco?' — but didn't dare. This was Sinatra, after all. Women the world over fell at his feet. By the time we said goodbye, I'd resigned myself to the fact that we'd simply had a fleeting affair.
Back in Palm Springs, I refused to meet Frank secretly — the place was too small and everyone knew each other's business. But even sitting next to him at a dinner made me jittery.
Eventually, Zeppo picked up on the sexual tension. Though I neither denied nor confirmed anything, he insisted on a separation.
Knowing that I'd have to move out as soon as our divorce was negotiated, I found a little house. While I was hesitating over whether I could afford it, Frank simply bought it and had it put in my name.
From then on, we were officially a couple.
He once admitted: 'I live my life certain ways that I could never change for a woman.' And that was certainly true.
He'd spend hours in a wood-panelled room he'd had specially built for his 200 model trains.
Once he was in that room, Frank was a child again: he'd wear a bright red engineer's hat with a visor and blow a whistle while the trains chugged around.
I also discovered that he had an intense dislike for brown shoes — so much so that anyone he didn't take to would be referred to as Mr Brown Shoes. And that he was obsessively clean, taking two or three showers daily, shaving repeatedly, and constantly brushing his teeth.
He also remained underwater in his pool every day for as long as possible, because this helped him hold key phrases in a song for 25 seconds or more.
Not that I ever benefited from his breath control at home, because The Voice hated to perform off stage — he complained it was like 'singing for his supper'.
On tour, I realised there was definitely a Jekyll and Hyde aspect to Frank's character. Before appearing on stage, he'd shout at everyone behind the scenes, especially his son Frank Jr, who worked as his conductor for years.
It was his way of getting up steam, but it wasn't pretty to be around. Restless and impatient, Frank wanted laughs and entertainment the rest of the time. He was never more keyed up than in the hours following a performance, when he needed to burn off some of his incredible energy.
Sometimes, that manifested itself in a tantrum, but more often than not he just wanted to drink with his buddies and me — and expected us to stay up all night. A friend of Frank's once said that one of the qualities that most endeared me to him was my stamina.
Frank's late nights came to be dreaded by his entourage. One of them, George Schlatter, once told the barman to fill up a bottle of vodka with water so he wouldn't get too drunk. But when Frank found out, he was furious.
If George folded and went to bed, Frank would pound on the floor to wake him up or telephone his room and yell: 'Get up here!' One night, George crawled out of the lift in his pyjamas wearing a hard hat and waving a white flag.
Our friends often formed a private pact to stay up with Frank in shifts over several days, so that no one person had to carouse with him night after night in what he called the American Olympic Drinking Team.
Fortunately, I could match Frank drink for drink and still know what I was doing. But he insisted that I give up smoking — even though he was a chain-smoker himself.
If he ever caught me with a cigarette, he was quite rough on me. But he rarely yelled at me because I was one of the few who'd yell back.
Realising that, his friends began to call on me if he was in one of his moods because they knew I was their best bet at calming him down.
Always easily bored, he demanded drama. It was just as well I found his Italian passion rather stimulating.
As the lustre faded from our relationship, we'd break up every now and again (I always seemed to be packing).
We fell out over anything and everything — though never about other women. I didn't own him; I had no claim on him to speak of, so I didn't even go there.
In any event, Frank liked strong women. He never hit me, although he once raised his hands during a fight and said: 'God, I want to punch you!'
'OK,' I replied defiantly, 'give it your best shot.'
'What would you do if I did?' he challenged.
'I'd leave and you'd never see me again.'
His hands dropped to his sides.
As soon as Frank and I had let off steam, we'd limp back into each other's arms and enjoy the making-up all the more.
But I was increasingly anxious about my future. For four years, I'd been his companion, consultant, nurse, psychiatrist and lover. The only thing I wasn't yet was his wife.
I owned nothing but the house he'd given me and a few nice pieces of jewellery. And I was even beginning to think Frank was allergic to the word marriage.
One day, while on one of his world tours, we stopped off in Jerusalem and were taken to the Wailing Wall. Standing on the flat, smooth stones that once formed King Solomon's Temple, I was asked to write a prayer and slip it between the cracks.
So I scribbled a private plea for continued happiness with Frank, adding plaintively: 'And please, have him ask me to marry him.'
Little did I know that Ol' Blue Eyes had no intention of proposing — and, in fact, never did.
Yet a year later, I was to become Mrs Barbara Sinatra, his fourth and final wife."
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Jun 4, 2011 16:09:50 GMT -5
Post by artemis on Jun 4, 2011 16:09:50 GMT -5
A long awaited post, I know. NATALIE PORTMAN. Kinda an anniversary one, given the fact that next Thursday she turns 30 (or at least the original should have turned 30, if still alive). Ive gotta say her case is one of the most puzzling Ive ever met since Im into this replacement stuff. NATALIE, in her 1st video - 1992, WORLD PATROL KIDS. IMO this is the one and only NATALIE PORTMAN but of course feel free to disagree. Yearbook pic Her cinematic debut, in DEVELOPING LEON 1994 1995 HEAT BEAUTIFUL GIRLS EVERYONE SAYS I LOVE YOU MARS ATTACKS! THE PHANTOM MENACE At the premiere of the movie ANYWHERE BUT HERE WHERE THE HEART IS ATTACK OF THE CLONES COLD MOUNTAIN GARDEN STATE PARIS JE T'AIME CLOSER REVENGE OF THE SITH FREE ZONE V FOR VENDETTA GOYA'S GHOSTS MY BLUEBERRY NIGHTS THE DARJEELING LIMITED MR. MAGORIUM'S WONDER EMPORIUM THE OTHER BOLEYN GIRL NEW YORK, I LOVE U THE OTHER WOMAN BROTHERS HESHER BLACK SWAN NO STRINGS ATTACHED YOUR HIGHNESS THOR Profile comps Clone comps Various FATALIES Ppl say: "she used to have a nice, soft voice but now she has a raspy, smoker style voice. what happened?"
"She has talked about how she's worked on changing her voice over the years. Mike Nichols can kind of be put to blame, I guess. She said in an interview with Charlie Rose while promoting Black Swan that he gives her constant criticism about how girlish her voice sounds and has advised her to see vocal coaches to help make it deeper.}
"...has done her voice sounded a lot better before. It isn't terrible, but it's noticeably different."
"She did actually take up smoking for a while. There are various candid photos around of her. "
"Obviously she's stopped now since she's pregnant. I don't know if it would have had 'that' big of an effect on her voice in such a short time though. It should be noted that when she was younger she was a strong advocate of non-smoking."
"I noticed that in the last couple years but in Thor she sounded great. It reminded me of Star Wars when she had a great voice."
"I thought she was a lot better looking when she was younger, she looks a lot less exotic nowadays...like her features have just become more and more 'Hollywoodish' "
"She was incredibly hot when she was 19-22 during the last two star wars. Ever since it kind of went downward but she looked awesome in Thor, almost as good"
"For how naturally beautiful she is, I was relatively unimpressed with her beauty (not to mention acting) in Thor."
"She seemed much more plain than usual. Although much of that could have been a matter of style. Her eyebrows looked over-plucked, making her look overall less expressive, her hair was lighter and limper than normal (it seemed to have more color and wave in it before) and her features just didn't seem as strong. And it's not for a lack of makeup; she clearly was wearing plenty."
"When she was younger she didn't have a big head and face, but now she's older and her face and head has grown to disproportionate size to her small neck and body, she's gonna look more odd, imagine when she's an old lady, how much more can she shrink?"
Wiki (and not only) used to say that she did modelling while a child, but now all has changed. Any comment is useless. "At the age of ten, a Revlon agent asked her to become a child model, but she turned down the offer to focus on acting."
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Post by goro on Jun 5, 2011 8:11:28 GMT -5
Great pics, Artemis! One thing that bothers me about this - I agree! - confusing case is that I see different Natalies already when she was a young child. The first pic you posted looks like a young Ashley Judd while other young Natalies have much more of a square jaw and a different facial structure. (To my eyes, anyway.) Were there twins or cousins used in her early days? I sometimes wonder about that possibility vs. an all out replacement from day one. See, in show business child labor laws are SO strict that a parent who could say, "If you hire my child and her twin or cousin you will get twice as many hours of work out of them than if you hired another underaged child." And that would actually be appealing given that movie sets require long, extended days of filming, and when a child is one of the leading performers in the film, you have to chop up the day to legally get the kid on set tutoring and give them long breaks. If you can come to the table with a set of twins (like the Olsen twins) or even triplets (I forget which show from the 1980's I used to watch which had triplets playing a small girl on the show)....or you have lookalike cousins.....I don't know. Just an idea that might be worth revisiting again. Not that twins explain everything else about Natalie/Fatalie, because this theory probably doesn't apply to her post-replacement or cloning. Also, it struck me how some of these Natalies are in full on entity possession - not just an alter, which some of them are in, but actually allowing an entity to speak and perform through her body. It's especially noticeable in the Star Wars pics. It gives me dark shivers looking at those photos, while all the others just seem to show a young woman in various alters or just dressing up and looking scared (I think most of the time Natalie has all of the stage presence of a scared rabbit!
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Jun 5, 2011 11:44:20 GMT -5
Post by artemis on Jun 5, 2011 11:44:20 GMT -5
Honestly, was eagerly waiting for ur verdict on my NATALIE post, Goro . Now I feel better. Though I terribly hate to repeat myself, let me tell u once again - as I mentioned in my post, that the only real NATALIE PORTMAN is, according to me at least, the girl from the 1st pic. As a reminder on this forum too, her father is "a fertility specialist and gynecologist", so in her case the replacements/clone matter comes naturally, regardless of the fact that the string of FATALIES started since she was a child.
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Jun 5, 2011 12:15:01 GMT -5
Post by goro on Jun 5, 2011 12:15:01 GMT -5
Honestly, was eagerly waiting for ur verdict on my NATALIE post, Goro . Now I feel better. Though I terribly hate to repeat myself, let me tell u once again - as I mentioned in my post, that the only real NATALIE PORTMAN is, according to me at least, the girl from the 1st pic. As a reminder on this forum too, her father is "a fertility specialist and gynecologist", so in her case the replacements/clone matter comes naturally, regardless of the fact that the string of FATALIES started since she was a child. Wow, I had forgotten about Natalie/Fatalie's dad and his background in fertility stuff. I LIKE it when you repeat stuff because I tend to forget things that have been posted before and I'm sure that newer visitors to the forum might not always have that earlier info at hand when looking at the new info being presented. So it's all good! But yeah, that first pic seems to show a girl with different cheek and jaw structure than the more square jawed and boyish looking Natlalie who emerged in movies just a short time after Natalie did those videos - so I'd say either first replacement happened after that and/or cloning, but I'm learning toward replacement just intuitively - don't know for sure.
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Jun 5, 2011 14:11:23 GMT -5
Post by goro on Jun 5, 2011 14:11:23 GMT -5
PS There are also a TREMENOUS amount of noses there on those N/Fatalie photos. When looking at these and keeping in mind that so many stars get nose jobs to make their noses thinner and more aquiline looking, you can think "Oh that's just because she had a nose job at one point." But then you look carefully at these photos and her nose changes significantly backwards and forwards in time. For instance, in some photos you see a fair amount of nostril when she is facing the camera straight on. In other pics with the same pose the tip of her nose tilts way down and you hardly see nostrils, if at all. I think the newer Fatalies might be being switched out, with two replacements or clones being used currently. In pics I've seen in celeb tabloids and stuff I have been clearly noticing a very glamorous verison with features completely unrecognizable as Natalie/Fatalie and one who looks more like Natalie/Fatalie (or what we've come to think of as Natalie.) The glammed up really fake looking one I'm talking about it #7 from the bottom of photos you posted. Nothing like Natalie in that photo but we've been seeing this version presented as her quite a lot. Then there is the whole issue of pic #37 (counting down from the top with #1 as the first photo at the top) and #53 showing a Fatalie without brown eyes - more blue or greenish - which of course can be explained by colored contacts, but not on those two particular photos because the faces on those two women aren't even close to a Natalie OR a Fatalie! Other features are nothing like hers in addition to the lighter colored eyes.
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Jun 5, 2011 14:18:03 GMT -5
Post by artemis on Jun 5, 2011 14:18:03 GMT -5
Again in all honest, u know what struck me as an ever changing item about NATALIE in the 1st place? 2 things: her eyes' position and especially her mouth. Her mouth changes like hell, lol, to say so. What chances are for a common person to have his mouth changed via Mother Nature? None.
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Jun 6, 2011 21:39:30 GMT -5
Post by beatlies on Jun 6, 2011 21:39:30 GMT -5
I think that 1995 was the last year of the original, real "Natalie Portman" (Natalie Herschlag).
Thanks for the photos, artemis.
Quite tragic, sad and horrifying, as usual....
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Post by artemis on Jun 7, 2011 3:01:28 GMT -5
U're welcome. Though its for the 3rd time Im saying it, its alrite: IMO the 1992 girl (NATALIE) differs from the one from 1995, when u said the real NATALIE was replaced. She got replaced from the very start, poor child.
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Jun 7, 2011 11:50:21 GMT -5
Post by goro on Jun 7, 2011 11:50:21 GMT -5
I think you're right. Also, in various bios for Natalie her mom is listed as an "artist' but then it also says she is Natalie's agent. Mom probably sold her child into the system very early and still makes mucho bucks pretending that versions 2.0, 3.0,. 4.0, etc are still her original child.
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