Expecting call from Hollywood any minute

D aniel "The Wig Man" Vovak, who runs for public offices wearing a curly Colonial-style periwig, is used to people thinking he's a little goofy.

How's he holding up now that Politico is taking him seriously?


Picking up on a Washington Business Journal story, Politico reported the other day that Vovak is looking for a Bill Clinton look-alike for The Blue Dress, a movie he's making on the former president and Monica Lewinsky.

The Business Journal made no mention of Vovak's wigged political quests. Nor did Politico. (Vovak ran for the U.S. Senate in Maryland two years ago. In 2004, he ran for the Senate in Illinois, despite living in Maryland - like Alan Keyes - and out of a car he called "Air Ford One.")


So Vovak's movie venture comes off as entirely credible, in the Journal, on Politico and in the Washington City Paper, which also picked up on the Journal's story.

"Do you look just like Bill Clinton? [Stinks] for you, until now," the City Paper story begins.

Politico writes: "Still, don't get your hopes up, Clinton wannabes. Daniel Vovak, executive producer of The Blue Dress, says Darrell Hammond of Saturday Night Live is reading a script, for the part of Clinton."

I don't want to pooh-pooh Vovak's movie project. The professional ghostwriter says he's making a movie, so I'll take him at his word. And he really has signed Paula Jones, the former Arkansas state employee who claimed then-Governor Clinton gave her an unwelcome audience with his distinguishing characteristics in 1991. She will play herself. Her Dallas-based agent has confirmed that much.

But Darrell Hammond? Is he really reading the script?

Vovak told me he'd sent the script to Hammond and Hammond hadn't sent it back, so that was a good sign. Some guy out of Los Angeles also has offered to put the script under Hammond's nose. But even Vovak was a little skeptical.

"If a company out of L.A. calls you," Vovak said, "you're never certain if they're telling you the truth."

Not exactly let go


Frank "Flip" DeFilippo, former press secretary for Gov. Marvin Mandel, is former something else now. He is no longer Ron Smith's Monday sidekick on WBAL-AM radio.

DeFilippo had appeared with Smith from 5 p.m. to 6 p.m. on Mondays. (Full disclosure: Smith writes a weekly op-ed column for The Baltimore Sun.), a Web site that covers area radio and television, reported that "DeFilippo has been let go" from the news talk station. That's not exactly the case, WBAL general manager Ed Kiernan told me.

"Frank's steady employment on Monday is not going to happen anymore, but he'll still be a part of the WBAL radio team," Kiernan said. "We'll be using Frank in different ways. ... We haven't cut his head off. We still love the guy."

Kiernan said the station is trying to "shake it up a little bit." Eliminating DeFilippo's fixed slot will give WBAL "more flexibility on Mondays to do different things"

Executive rodent watch

Somebody has been sneaking into John Leopold's office and sniffing around for ... Scandal? Dirt?


No, cheese.

A mouse appeared recently in the Anne Arundel County exec's office. Not just in the executive suite, mind you, but right in Leopold's personal space.

Later, there were sightings down the hall.

"We're not sure if it's the same mouse or his buddies," spokesman David Abrams said.

"Rabbie the Cat (short for Francois Rabelais) may be called in to take care of this," Abrams e-mailed me last week. "Or Dora the Dog, who would probably play with the mouse to death."

Rabbie, if you're wondering, is named for a French Renaissance writer known for bawdy works of fiction. Dora is no cultural slouch, either. The black Lab hails from Wild Goose Kennels in Federalsburg, the same place President Clinton got Buddy.


Despite those highfalutin connections, Leopold's pets would work for free and, therefore, not violate the county's hiring freeze.

But it seems their services might not be needed. At last report, the trap in Leopold's office was empty, but two mice had been caught elsewhere in the building.

"[N]o sightings since," Abrams said. "He told Rabbie to stand down."

$5,000 up, 8 pounds down

Back in mid-November, I wrote how Anthony McCarthy had launched a hunger strike, vowing that he'd consume nothing but water until the drug recovery program I Can't We Can had raised $50,000.

Is he still starving?


"I fasted for 14 days and only drank water," the WEAA radio host and I Can't We Can staffer said. "Every now and then a soda was slipped in."

Over those two weeks, the organization raised a little over $5,000, far short of McCarthy's goal. But the diabetic said he was too dizzy and too much of "a mess" to go on.

Even so, McCarthy said he was pleased that many people stepped up to donate to the organization, which remains in tough financial shape but is determined to keep its doors open.

There was another upside.

"I lost 8 pounds," McCarthy said.

That's it?


After two weeks without food?

"My fat is nice and entrenched and was in no hurry to go anywhere."