Who needs Lizzie Grubman?

At least, I think I manage to get out that entire sentence. I'm not really sure, because I'm thrown off by how the smiling face of the PR person suddenly becomes an icy demeanor. He abruptly walks over to where Wilson Pickett is posing for a photographer. "See, it's a German car," I call out after him. "She's a Jew, but it's a car that's always been made by Germans?right?"

Oh, well. There are idiots who think Bush went AWOL, so I guess I can stand being an anti-Semite in somebody's world. And the punchline is that my invite doesn't even come through on the Grubman event?which is actually good news, and not just because I can't think of a different way to phrase that Mercedes gag. Being stiffed on the Grubman front means that I can actually attend the next day's 10 a.m. screening of The World's Greatest Sinner at the Walter Reade Theater in Lincoln Plaza.

Never before have so many lowlifes gotten out of bed before noon, mostly due to the proud Norton Records staff turning on the lights and stirring up the cockroaches. These are my kind of people, though, and they get my Lizzie Grubman references?although they have no idea who she is until you remind them of that little saga called Hamptons Hot Rod Hellcat. But that kind of chaos is kid's stuff compared to the mad vision of writer/director/star Timothy Carey. The crazed character actor passed away in 1994, but it's great to see his diseased 1962 home movie playing a prestigious venue.

Unlike most of the films that I watched on bootleg video back in the 80s, The World's Greatest Sinner still holds up as a brilliant low-budget classic. At the very least, Carey's tale of a power-crazed rock 'n' roll insurance executive should keep the AIDS activists away from the communion wafers. Film historian/obsessive Walter Ocner has done a fine job of assembling a decent print, too. It's got plenty of footage that was missing from the version I saw, with this restored cut clocking in at an epic 75 minutes.

The screening is one of those happy events where a hardcore trash fiend can actually feel like his team has won a round. All those mopey college kids probably felt the same way when Elliott Smith showed up on the Academy Awards. Except, of course, my team has the kind of wins that can actually happen again?specifically with The World's Greatest Sinner playing as a fine romance on Feb. 14 at 5 p.m.

More of my people show up for the big rock show at Roseland, but there's nothing chosen about us Simple Plan fans?except, that is, the right to be chosen as simple idiots by all the cool rock critics. I'm still insisting that this would be a great band even without being measured against a French-Canadian standard, although guitarist Sebastian Lefebvre is used to being dismissed. "You've got it right," he assures me. "These older critics need to do some research and find out why kids like this band. When we do a show, I have a good time. The people have a good time. Why don't the show critics have a good time?"

Although at least Simple Plan can claim to be in good company, since the only other act so unfairly reviled is their close personal friends in Good Charlotte.

"Yeah," Sebastian says, "we talk about that. When we went on tour with them, the next day we'd get the paper, and the show critic would usually say the first band sucked and the second band was good?or it would be the other way around. Dude, both of our bands kick ass! If a critic doesn't want to see people having a good time, then don't come to our show."

I should add that I don't talk to Sebastian at the actual concert?but it sure sounded like it, right? I could've faked the same thing hanging outside of that Lizzie Grubman party. You'd be surprised at how many gossip columnists get away with that kind of thing. Not the Jewish ones, though. They have integrity.

[jrt@nypress.com](mailto:jrt@nypress.com)