PEOPLE

By Joel Stein

LIVE PULP

When QUENTIN TARANTINO spotted Natural Born Killers producer Don Murphy at L.A.'s eaterie Ago, he didn't send over an air kiss. Instead, fuming about being badmouthed by Murphy, and by his partner in her book, Killer Instinct, the director went over and punched him repeatedly. Tarantino was put in a cop car, while Miramax head Harvey Weinstein helped broker a truce. No charges were filed, but Murphy is considering legal action.

WOULD YOU BELIEVE...A PILLOW FIGHT?

It's a nightmare that wakes tabloid editors in the middle of the night: J.F.K. JR. has a visible physical malady, and you don't know why. So what do you do? Make something up. When Kennedy appeared in public with a soft cast early last month, each tabloid came up with a different explanation. The Star reported that he had fractured a bone while paddling his kayak on the Hudson River. The National Enquirer made the highly dubious claim that John-John broke his bone by pounding on his desk in an argument with a staff member at George. The Globe made a bold ratings grab by saying it was most likely he'd had a Moonlighting-level fight with his wife that had resulted in a severed nerve. Kennedy later gave his own report, stating that he was cleaning the dishes after dinner with his wife when he cut his hand on a utensil, severing a nerve.

JANET UNDER GLASS

Hockey players are supposed to be tough. Now, it seems, so are their wives. When the N.H.L.'s reigning madman, the Rangers' Ulf Samuelsson, slammed a player into the boards, he sent that 30-lb. Plexiglas panel off its hinges and squarely on the head of teammate WAYNE GRETZKY's wife JANET JONES, who then spent the night at the hospital with a lacerated lip and mild concussion. Gretzky finished the final six minutes of the game before leaving to visit her, though he later said he maybe should have left immediately (it's not as if he scored in the Rangers' 1-0 loss to the Blackhawks). Jones, the New York Post reported, wasn't angry.

DO YOU HEAR THE DRUM, DUDE?

Picture yourself as a famous, no-nonsense Congresswoman, married to the man who founded TIME magazine. Somebody gives you a small tab of paper, you happily lick it and you're gone. That's what happened in 1960 when CLARE BOOTHE LUCE--playwright, socialite, anticommunist and wife of Henry Luce--turned on, tuned in and dropped LSD with her husband. Luce's handwritten acid diaries were made public this month, 10 years after her death, as stipulated in her will. Among her Jim Morrisonesque musings: "Capture green bug for future reference," "Feel all true paths to glory lead but to the grave," and "The futility of the search to be someone. Do you hear the drum?"