Bingo. I got Ringo.
Ringo Starr’s art, making almost as much noise as his music, is at Pop International Galleries. A preview until the 24th. Springing for a piece in advance nails two tickets to his real deal meet ’n’ greet the 25th where Himself will show in person, 7 to 9 p.m. A shot at this appearance is “invitation only.”
Under the umbrella of Celebrity Art [larger hand-signed pieces are $800, smaller limited-edition posters, $20, some already sold out], the stuff is nifty.
“I began drawing in ’05,” he told me. “I already had my computer, all that I’d need with me. At first I just played around, sketching a few heads. Then I went further and decided to print them up.
“So I took a lesson. I was using acrylics. The teacher told me to try actual paint. He said, ‘After all, Rembrandt didn’t work in acrylics.’ Imagine? Likening me to Rembrandt? But I figured I’d try paint.
“Now I sell what I turn out. Every penny goes to the Lotus Foundation [a London-based organization that funds family, child and animal welfare].
“It’s something to keep yourself occupied. I work four-five nights a week. I’m always traveling, on the road, and this is more than hanging around hotels all day. With so much down time, not knowing what to do with yourself, it’s better to be creative.”
Ringo and His All Starr Band are also working Jones Beach Theater the 22nd. So, at his level, does he still get nervous?
“Yeah. In an actual live performance, yes. Three seconds before I go out it’s really high nervousness. Like, ‘Oh, God, I want to go to bed.’ My aim is to walk on, but what I do is I run on. Leaving the dressing room, it’s three minutes complete panic. Once I reach the audience, I’m fine. I relax.
“I’ve done this long enough that, after the gig’s over, no need to hang out. Just a cup of tea and bed right after midnight. I’ve spent lots of years in the dark. I’m up 7:30. I don’t know what everyone thinks all pop stars do with their lives. I’m like other people. Walk my dog, watch TV, go to the cinema, see friends. I love daylight . . . and to pleasure Barbara, my bride of 31 years.”
TODAY’s also Beatle Paul McCartney’s 70th birthday. Fan Jefre Harwoods writes: “More than any other, he’s had 48 top-10, 26 No. 1, 70 gold and platinum albums, 56 top-10 songs, 29 No. 1 songs, and in the US sold 235 million albums plus 85 million singles” — and that I should mention this. OK, OK . . . Another fan, Chelsea’s Holy Apostles Church soup kitchen volunteer Dolores Dolan writes: “Over 500 gallons of soup are served every Friday by Ben Tabatchnick, CEO of America’s oldest family soup brand” — and that I should mention this. OK, OK.
JOHN Edwards. Officially off the hook last week. Mr. Piggy will not be retried after acquittal on one count and inability to reach verdict on five others. Excuuuuuse me. Kiddies, did mother not tell you looooong ago — flat out — no guess but fact — that this would be the case?? I swear, you people out there just don’t deserve me.
MARY Richardson Kennedy’s drinking, passing out, depression, running over a dog, threatening suicide was headlined. Understood is that fights, screams, ugliness, hostile divorces take children hostage. Now whispered is that she mightn’t have been enfolded in her full family Mother’s Day.
A troubled parent draws comfort in the closeness of her own flesh and blood. There are reports that Mary spent all day Mother’s Day in bed and had to rely on her housekeeper to care for her. With Kennedy battling custody and a court-ordered housekeeper’s presence during visitation, it’s unlikely that her four — Kyra, 16; Conor, 17; Aidan, 10; Fin, 14 — were present on her special day. And that was three days before ending her life. Whispers are the holiday might’ve helped Mary over the edge.
One more point. Robert Kennedy Jr. enjoyed falconry. Equipment had been kept near the barn. Whispers call this a message. She was another victim of his hunts. Another bird of prey. She ended her life in that barn.
US Postal employees, threatened with layoffs and closures, are upset over Lance Armstrong’s drug accusations. Their postal service spent large money featuring him on TV commercials . . . So authorities don’t know how to get rid of that Anna Gristina madam? Just let her get up, rip off her outfit, stand naked and be immediately knocked off by flying pants buttons.
FASHION obsessed LA Reid has 50 pocket-square hankies . . . TV’s “Shark Tank” panelist Barbara Corcoran invested $40,000 for 40 percent of a peanut-butter business and sent its first products to Skippy devotee Robert Morgenthau . . . Not only the skies are falling, but Sacha Baron three-named Cohen’s “The Dictator” flopped and Russell Brand’s brand has dipped.
RAINING. Tough to grab a cab. Yet a driver of one of those yellow vehicles idled patiently while a passenger hustled into a building to help an aging person into a taxi. Didn’t request fare in advance. And took the shot of waiting in a No Parking zone.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.