Are we crazy, or is Josie Cotton morphing into a raven-haired Angelyne? We dug her early 80s hits “Johnny Are You Queer” and “He Could Be The One,” and her bodacious glamor-girl style beat the shit out of the grunge gals who soon followed, but watching her latest video “See The New Hong Kong” makes us wonder if we’ve ever actually seen Josie and Angelyne in the same room.

Josie:

…and a 2003 Angelyne video, “Alien Contact”:

Zsa Zsa Gabor, sole survivor of the famed triplets and perhaps the most glamorous Hungarian nonagenerian in all of Hollywood, has not been having a good year. In January, most of her right leg was amputated due to complications–including gangrene and severe hammer toe–following hip surgery. She was released from the hospital and was recuperating at home when she suffered a relapse on the first of February. According to Gabor’s suitcase pimp, part-time husband, and former Chico and The Man star Frederic Prinz von Anhalt (also know as Prince Frederic von Anhalt, Freddie Prince, Freddy Glue-Eyes, and “that naked man handcuffed to the steering wheel”), Gabor was not watching Jeopardy! as originally reported in the press, but was in fact “engrossed with Glenn Beck as he drew parallels on his chalkboard between President Obama, Eva Braun, Vince the Shamwow guy, and the original Broadway cast of Hair. That’s when [Gabor] started coughing up blood and mucus from her mouth.”

At first, van Anhalt said he thought nothing of the incident, since many people, including himself, “spit up blood or bile or other fluids while watching Glenn Beck. It’s part of his appeal.”  However, van Anhaltsaid he soon realized something was truly wrong with Gabor when the 93 year-old bombshell didn’t stop vomiting blood. “She just sat there, bolt upright in bed, her mouth agape, with blood spewing from it like a fire engine hose,” claimed Prinz. “It went on for more than five minutes. I had no idea she had that much blood in her or I would have sold it.” van Anhalt then became emotional as he continued, “It reminded me of the fountains of Trevi in Rome. My god, what a beautiful city. I love it in the fall, particularly. There is nothing quite like sitting at a cafe on the Via Veneto and sipping an espresso while inhaling the exhaust of a thousand Fiats and Vespas. Also, I once had intercourse with Rula Lenska in the Roman catacombs. It was extremely musty and uncomfortable and tourists kept taking pictures of us, so obviously I was very concerned about Zsa Zsa and the blood and stuff.”

Gabor, who will be 94 on February 6, was rushed by van Anhalt to Dan Tana’s restaurant in West Hollywood, where van Anhalt said he enjoyed “an aperitif, followed by a delicious veal chop and a small salad.” van Anhalt dined alone, he said, “because Zsa Zsa preferred to rest in the car where she could spit up more blood in private.”  According to a source who was not at Dan Tana’s that night but has eaten there before, van Anhalt finished his meal and then  joked with the waitress by exposing his penis to her and telling her to “keep the tip.” He then attempted to get everyone in the restaurant to do the chicken dance before a panicked valet rushed into the eaterie and told him that there was a “bruja” vomiting blood all over the interior of his car. “That’s when I really became concerned,” van Anhalt said, “because bruja means ‘witch’ in Spanish, and I did not recall driving a witch to the restaurant. Fortunately, the witch had left by the time the valet brought the car around, but Zsa Zsa was still there.” Van Anhalt said he then immediately drove to Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center “at a leisurely pace, no more than twenty miles an hour” because he had been “drinking heavily” and was “ankle-deep in blood.”

“Plus,” van Anhalt added, “Zsa Zsa was no longer continuously spouting blood from her mouth, just coughing up a half-pint here and there. That’s when I noticed she was very pale and I became really concerned.”

Responding to allegations made by conspiracy theorists on a Glenn Beck fan page (www.ismellarat.com) that Gabor had staged the hip fracture, leg amputation and blood-spitting as a publicity stunt to revive her flagging career, van Anhalt angrily claimed that “the blood vomiting was the real thing,” and that his wife “is not Debbie Reynolds.” Van Anhalt admitted that in the past, Gabor had been known to perform what she called “The Crimson Yawn,” in which she would “upchuck gouts of blood as a party trick to entertain guests, children, and other simpletons.” Van Anhalt added that Gabor learned the technique from “an old kung-fu gypsy woman” in her native Hungary, and had “impressed many a studio mogul” with the feat when she first came to Hollywood. “That’s how she got her first break,” claimed van Anhalt, adding, “and showing her tits.”

Van Anhalt also denied that Gabor suffers from a sexual fetish in which one derives pleasure from having one’s limbs amputated, as alleged on another Beck fan site, www.sociopathsluvbeck.com. “That’s ridiculous,” van Anhalt huffed. “If we wanted that done we would have gone to Tijuana like Bob Crane and Dick Van Patten!” Van Anhalt claimed that he and Gabor were not into “the kinky stuff, other than scat,” and that Gabor agreed to have her leg amputated because “it was green and blue and oozing pus and really stinking up the place, like when a Filipino cooks fish in the microwave.”  Van Anhalt said that they decided to keep the leg in their freezer, “just in case.”

Gabor did not recognize her husband when he visited her room, though she did recognize “The Count” from Sesame Street when the Muppet dropped in to help her count to 94 in preparation for her birthday. Gabor also recognized photographs of Kiki Dee, Ron Jeremy, and the late Simon MacCorkindale, star of the short-lived 1980′s TV series Manimal. At one point, Gabor appeared to recognize her spouse, but then it became apparent she had confused him with the deceased comedian Freddie Prinze, star of Chico and the Man and father of actor Freddie Prinze, Jr., neither of whom are related in any way to the 67 year-old self-proclaimed “Rapscallion Love-Kraut.”  The pain of being forgotten by his wife, coupled with the post traumatic stress of having accidentally glued his eyes shut in December 2010, apparently took its toll on van Anhalt, according to his cousin and closest friend, The Burger King, who was not with van Anhalt when he collapsed in the hospital elevator two days after Gabor was admitted. “He’s a very sensitive man,” said The Burger King from his enormous fairytale castle in the clouds, “at least for a German.”

Van Anhalt was immediately handcuffed to a gurney and hospitalized. He and Gabor are not sharing the same room, but communicate with each other by tapping on the pipes.

Gabor, who is partially paralyzed from a 2002 car accident and reportedly had a stroke in 2005, is battling fluid in her lungs and high fever. “But she appears to be on the mend,” says a source who asked not to be identified, but who is, in fact, Dick Clark. Interestingly, Gabor fractured her hip after falling out of bed while trying to answer the phone, and sources close to embattled Egyptian President Hosni Mubarek  say that the caller was none other than Dick Clark, who had inadvertantly dialed a wrong number while trying to personally notify a Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes contestant that they had lost. No longer able to join the PCH Prize Patrol due to his own health issues, Clark, who suffered a stroke in December 1996 and is currently battling “Old Person’s Disease,” has allegedly taken to personally calling every loser to offer his condolences, said the source. “His phone bill is almost as insane as he is,” said the source, who admitted never having met Clark or knowing anything about him. “What I do know is that something like 43 million people enter the sweepstakes every year and that is a lot of phone calls to make, especially if your hand is shakier than Don Knotts in the Disneyland Haunted Mansion after a nine day meth binge,” said the source, who had a Middle Eastern accent and claimed he could fly and walk through walls.

“Yes,” said Clark when contacted for comment, “Many will enter but few will win.”

The Armargosa Opera House in Death Valley was one of the oh-so-many L.A. Bizarro destinations that never made it to the print edition of our book, but not because it’s isn’t worthy—and not because it lies hours outside of Los Angeles County either. As anyone who’s read L.A. Bizarro knows, our “Los Angeles” is just a general idea, a jumping off point, a place to begin—and perhaps end, but not necessarily—an excursion of the absurd.

So just to provide a little background for those who don’t swing though Death Valley as often as we do, The Amargosa Opera House is the remarkable creation of the remarkable Marta Becket, a New York dancer and former Rockette who landed in Amargosa (an old Borax mining town with a dwindling population of less than 15) by accident—a flat tire while traveling cross country in 1967—and decided to stay forever. If wanting to stay in Death Valley forever sounds as fucking crazy to you as it does to us, her story actually gets weirder: she and her husband leased an abandoned “theater” space attached to the Amargosa Motel (the town’s only) that was three feet deep in dried mud, flood debris, and deteriorating plaster, and spent a painstaking five years single-handedly refurbishing the space, including completion of the diminutive 120-seat theater’s awe-inspiring murals covering every square inch of its walls and ceilings. She christened the place The Amargosa Opera House, and mounted her first of many original shows in that first year, often performing for an audience of no one.

Our exclusion of The Armargosa Opera House from the pages of L.A. Bizarro had only to do with its star performer, Marta Beckett. Marta is also The Amargosa Opera House’s only performer really, with the exception of an occasional, but rare, guest. And it’s not that Marta isn’t good, she’s very good. She’s fucking great in fact, extraordinary. An inspiration! But that last show we saw was during the Amargosa’s 2008 season which was just months after Marta’s 84^th birthday, as well as a bad back injury she sustained after falling from a chair while perched to do a little touch-up work on a wall mural in anticipation of the coming performance season. In 2009, it was a broken hip. After 45 years of original vaudeville and ballet productions (many of which were performed solo), you’d think such setbacks might be a deal-breaker for a 87 year-old one-woman Death Valley theater company. But Marta’s one feisty trooper it would seem, and instead of hanging up the toe shoes she instead reinvented, pulling yet another original production from her bag o’ tricks: “The Sitting Down Show.” A show, as one might expect, that was performed entirely while seated. Because she has trouble standing.

Cutting Amargosa from the pages of the book also had nothing to do with “The Sitting Down Show” not being good. “The Sitting Down Show” was, in fact, fucking great. We don’t want to give it away, but it was one of the best shows of any type we’ve ever seen anywhere, much less Death Valley, which is not generally celebrated for it’s vaudeville. The reason that we didn’t include Marta’s Opera House performances, quite frankly, is because we pretty much figured she’d be dead before the book hit the presses (the wheels of the publishing world turn slowly), and we didn’t want to waste the pages. As it turned out, the joke was on us. Marta is no lily-livered song-and-dance gal it seems, the chick’s got grit, and has just commenced with her forty-fifth performance season, and “The Sitting Down Show” has taken the Amargosa stage once again for those who wish to make the drive (for the intrepid traveler, cut-rate overnight accommodations can be had at the adjoining Amargosa Motel—allegedly haunted, which may be considered one of its few amenities—and also at the frightening Longstreet Casino further up the road). And we suggest that you do. Post haste. Especially since she’s threatening to retire “soon.” And sit close to the front, she can’t project quite like she used to, and you don’t want to miss a word.

(For more on Marta and the stupefying Amargosa Opera House story, we highly recommend the documentary “Amargosa.”)