HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!

When the Pilgims stepped out onto Plymouth Rock they were starving, diseased, desperate, lonely, cold and generally miserable.  They cursed their captain, their religious leaders, and anyone else within earshot - which was noone.  Imagine this group of religious fanatics deciding that England wasn't good enough, so they went to Holland, and from Leyden set sail for an unknown land in a ship that they got at the bargain basement.  Once they arrived in the "New World" they ravaged the store of corn that the natives had left at Corn Hill in Truro, drank from the clear waters of what is now known as Pilgrim Spring, then jumped back on their lousy boat and rounded the elbow of Cape Cod to set foot at Plymouth.

 From there they proceeded to send pestilence and disease to the peaceful native popluation of Wampanoags, Massasoits, Algonquins, and their friends.  The second year they invited them to a feast where they ate their turkeys, their cranberries, their corn, their squash, and anything else they could beg.

This guy was not on the ship - trust me.  The only reason that I can say all of these terrible things about the Pilgrims is that I am one of them, and my children are descendents of two.  I am even registered as an offical Mayflower descendent.  What in heck does that prove?  That I have managed, after almost four centuries, to throw off the shackles of prejudice, greed, and superiority? 

When the King Philip Wars started, the Pilgrims, and those who arrived on the next ship, decided that they would show those pesky natives how superior they were - they would shoot them with their muskets  The Massasoit chief, Philip, ran a tough show and his peeps were mad.  They scapled any white man or woman they could, they took the pretty women captive, burned entire villages, and generally scared the pants off these religious englishmen.  Wouldn't you have done the same thing?  After centuries of periodic skirmishes with other tribes of people who lived excactly like they did, here come these pale folks who wore stupid clothes, didn't know how to farm, cried and whimpered at the least provocation, and had nothing to add to their life.

I am generally outraged by any demeaning reference to other ethnic groups, but when it is my tribe you are talking about I have free reign, like Jackie Mason or Wanda Sykes.  They can make fun of Jews, Blacks, Lesbians, and get away with it.  My time comes only once a year

"Why were the Pilgram's pants always falling down?"

"They wore their buckles in their hats."

The feast itself has such ritualistic qualities these days.  I can't think of another holiday in my culture where there are such proscribed dishes that we eat.  They vary by region (no marshmallows on my table, thank you] but there are certain elements that travel across the country.  The bird, of course, the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, the pumpkin pie.  Then the variations begin.  Frozen green beans with mushroom soup and canned onions on top?  That recipie is a cruel joke from some Sicilians who are laughing about it to this day.

For my money, the cranberry has to have those little ridges that stay once you take it out of the can, and the stuffing needs to start off in a bag labeled Pepperidge Farm.  The gravy needs to be abundant and made with the pan drippings, not cans of chicken stock, and there must be enough to smother a hot turkey sandwich on soft white bread the next day.  It's really the only day of the year when I eschew the labor intensive home-made variety of certain things.  Pearl onions out of a jar with cream sauce - YUM!!

This is all making me hungry.  Have a great Thanksgiving everyone. 

WATCH OUT! Here it comes!

I have always loved the holiday season.  Decorating, shopping, baking, and entertaining, but this year things seem to be out of whack. The advertisements filled with jingle bells, fake snow, and happy smiling idiots seem to have arrived around October 15.  Come Friday we will be subjected  to overweight women wearing the most God awful sweaters and sweatshirts, for an entire month.

Who thinks these horrors up?  A better  question is, who buys them?  I think it's the metrosexual men who have never gotten over that cute mother/son thing who buy them for their mothers, thinking that the ladies at church will ask them where they got that adorable sweater covered with angels and they can say "My son gave it to me".  That's the only explaination. 

Dogs are notoriously full of the holiday spirit.  Can you imagine getting beat out for the ugliest holiday sweater by a pug? 

Even everyman's Mr. Darcy looks ridiculous in his holiday attire, and for my money it's hard to make Colin Firth look bad in anything.

We can only hope that this shot was taken while he was in character, perhaps for a contemporary Pride and Prejudice, with a holiday party thrown in to make

it perfectly OK to make those smarmy Bennet sisters make fools of themselves and their mother get over served with egg nog.

I recently saw a commercial for X-Box on TV.  It featured a young brother and sister grinning and gloating over their prowess with the controls while their beaming parents stood in back cheering them on.  Isn't it the perfect family activity for the holidays? Watching your children play video games? 

So Santa's workshop is humming here with multiple projects and labor intensive handicrafts emerging daily.  I've been encouraged by a certain soon to be ex-husband to set up a sweat shop in the basement and ruin my eyesight running a sewing machine 19 - 20 hours a day.  Wouldn't that be a fun way to celebrate? 

My neighborhood has already begun to look like Las Vegas, with twinkling Santas, reindeer, candy canes, and snowmen.  So what that it's 55 degrees out, sunny and bright, and noone has even thought of defrosting their pre-basted turkey so they can fry it in the back yard.  Isn't it in the constitution- "freedom of expression"? So let them decorate their dogs, their yards, and their children.  I'll just keep on sewing.

"People Have Lost Their Sense of Outrage"

I for one have not lost my sense of outrage, a quote from one of the great pontificators, Louis Studs Terkel.  I am daily scandalized by what people are able to get away with in this country - for that matter, around the world.  Slobodan Milosovitch didn't want to come to the tribunal in The Hague?  Innocent women and children being killed daily in the markets in Pakistan, just because they needed to buy bread?

One of the greater bards of our generation passed away recently.  I was lucky to have called Studs Terkel my friend.  Many were the evenings we would sit in his fabulous prairie style home, with art deco and modernist furniture, doing exactly what he is doing here, drinking scotch and smoking a cigar.  On one memorable Thanksgiving that he and his beloved Ida spent with us we went around the room saying what we were thankful for.  Ida, true to form said "A life without cigars".  Of course she didn't have it, but that is what she wished for.

the quintissential Studs

Studs was always jealous that Ida's FBI dossier was larger than his, she being the true heroine in this story.  And stories there were, many times over.  The Boulliabaise one with Algren was a favorite.  "They are looking up at me!"    The last few years of Studs' life were not great, confined to a hospital bed in his living room, but whenever the great ones were in town they would come to pay homage.  My children, who grew up with Studs and Ida as surrogate grandparents thought nothing of them in greatness, only as kind ,benevolent people with lots of fruit juice in the fridge and the occasional hamburger on raisin toast, Ida's specialty.

He always made it to Christmas Eve at our house.  Always brought a bottle of J&B.  Always sat in the same chair, always ate the same food, and one special year he even read "The Night Before Christmas" to the assembled choir.  I have it on tape somewhere.  Other years we played Harold Washington reading the same poem. 

Now the FBI has released 269 pages of his dossier.  What a tribute to this maligned man who only wanted to have everyone be happy, have a home, and be able to discuss his or her opinion.  They have kept many hundred pages classified.  Probably late night outings with Nelson and Simone (terrible subversives) at a jazz dive on the South Side.  Perhaps a late night song fest with Win Stracke.

If you ever heard him sing " A Wee Drapiot" it would bring tears to your eyes.  I remember him singing it many times, once in our back yard when we hosted Studs and Ida's 50th Wedding Anniversary party.  Most of you will probably know him from the Maurice Lennel commercial jingle.  What a great guy.  I have been a better person to have  known him and his family . Jane, I wish I had your e mail address so I could send this to you.  Perhaps Dan has it.                                                                      

Anyway, a small homage to a man who was privleged to have 269 pages of his FBI dossier released, who I knew as my friend, who I helped whenever I could, and he helped me.  Wish I could make you some broccoli soup my friend.

XO V.

.

                                                               

Some messed up women...

I guess that there are some people who are born to be winners and some that are born to be losers, no matter how hard they try.  Talent, brains, beauty don't mean diddly squat.  Let's look at some examples of fallen women.  They try hard to bring us down - way down.

1 Joan Kennedy had it all.   A handsome husband from a true patriarchal family.  Yet she threw it all away for a bottle when Ted made his famous swan dive at Chappaquidick.

2. Elizabeth Taylor.  Violet eyes, talent,(she had the Cleopatra thing down pat), yet she let Richard Burton and others destroy her self esteem, and ultimately, her looks, and her career.  It's a far cry from Richard Burton to Michael Jackson as a dinner companion.

3. Lyndsay Lohan.  I actually feel kind of sorry for her to be dragged through the mud at such a young age.  She sure has the beauty thing down, but everything else is up for grabs.  I doubt that anyone will ever hire her again.  And how about that jerk of a father commenting on how great her new boobs look!  I guess when you think you can have it all - you can't.  Men, women, $5,000 a day stylists (this must have been his day off.

 

                                                                             

4. Now we come to my favorite fallen woman, who is so clueless that she doesn't even know it yet, yes, the former Governor of the great state of Alaska.  Anytime you can get Tina Fey to do a pretty great impression of you you've got it made, but what did she do with it?  Nothing,  Defending her wardrobe, her pregnant daughter, her mentally challenged snowmobiler husband.  Just invite your grandson's father for Thanksgiving dinner.  A moose roast must serve at least 50.  Sit him at the kid's table, make him do the dishes, shirtless,  You know he now has quite the 6 pack going for his Playgirl photo shoot                                                                                                           Which twin has the Toni??  Is it real or is it Tina????

But luckily we do have some strong arms and shoulders for women to look up to.  My favorite of the moment is Nancy Pelosi, Speaker of the House.  Imagine how those old white boys hate being bossed around by this:

The world may  be changing bit by bit, but it's still a man's world and they can bring women down faster than you can say "divorce court".  It's been more than 24 years since they refused to pass the Equal Rights Amendment.  I think it's time we demanded compensation for the slavery we have been subjected to all these years.

But there was one formidable woman who blazed a trail, never swerved off the road and I suspect told her husband to "Shut up you old fart" on more than one occasion,  Let her serve as an inspiration to us all.

Eleanor Roosevelt led by example, whether it was addressing the troops, having her private aerrie, Valkill built in Hyde Park, or making it possible for Marian Andersen to sing at the Lincoln Memorial.  Let us never forget her immortal words, "Do what you feel in  your heart to be right - for you'll be criticized anyway.  You'll be damned if you do and damned it you don't"

with old blue eyes           at the front

"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent". ER

Joining the 21st Century

The other day I purchased an IPhone.  Wow, am I imressed with it.  My previous phone, an LG flip model, came with a 60 page book of instructions.  My new phone came without any book, just a small accordion folded pamphlet.  I have always been technologically challenged, to this day waiting until an under 25 year old came over to help me get the remote control for the TV to work.  But the IPhone is incredibly smart.  Earlier today one of my daughters called to ask if I had heard her news report on the radio.  I hadn't, but within about 10 seconds, there it was on my phone!  Even I can master it!

The rapid rate of technological advances never ceases to amaze me.  In the last fifty years so much has been invented, improved, and made available to the general public.  Can this pace keep up?  Remember who invented the cotton gin?   (play Jeopardy theme song here).  We all had to memorize his name in third grade - Eli Whitney.  Now was that more important than the person who invented cell phones?  Yet no one knows his or her name.  Who invented the computer?  It wasn't so long ago that I was working at a radio station and feeding punch cards into a mammoth pseudo computer, just to get the commercials on at the right time.

What's next?  Well, I'll tell you.  Another brilliant guy at the MIT Media Lab (why are they always there?  wouldn't you love to visit?) has invented a pendant that you wear around your neck and then just by making gestures with your hands your phone knows what to do.  Take a photo?  call Mom?  remember to pick up bread and milk on your way home?

That's almost as amazing as the Florida woman who recently tried to extort $50,000 from her husband by having a ransom tape delivered to him.  Unfortunately, you could hear she and her lover having sex in the background of the tape.  Not cool.

But, if she had an IPhone she could have taped herself, e mailed it to her husband, and set the timer for the time of the drop off.  Heck, she probably could have had her phone drive to the drop off spot, film him dropping off the dough and then had sex with him over the phone.

Are we all voyeurs??

What is it that makes people want to know everything and anything about celebrities?  No matter whether you are into Jessica Simpson, Homer Simpson, Kevin Spacey, Kevin Federline or Spacey women of any kind, the American public seems to be addicted to celebrity gossip and photos.  Some nights I watch the national news, followed by the local news.  Right after that we have Entertainment Tonight, Entertainment Weekly, Bad Entertainment of any kind.  Immediately followed by Dancing With the Stars.  I must admit that it was pretty amusing watching Tom DeLay strutting his non-stuff.  Who really cares?  I guess a lot of people, judging from the crowds that come out to any appearance by these wanna be stars and starlets.

Former House Majority leader, Tom DeLay.

For my money, I am looking forward to the PBS documentary that airs tonight, following Barack for the two years prior to the election.  These producers bet on an unknown and they won.  It was risky, but it worked. Sometimes you have to take a risk. 

Now there are good risks and bad risks.  Risk the health of your children because you are fundamentally opposed to vaccinations?  Bad risk.  Risk losing a buck on a 7-11-21 card once a week?  Good risk. 
Risk looking like a fool because your are trying to look young and trendy?  Bad risk.  Help your children with their math homework?  Bad risk.  Try a new recipe using Campbell's Soup?  Bad risk.  Indulge your neighbors when the parents come trick or treating for wine on Halloween?  Good risk.  Risk shopping at Aldi to save a few dollars?  Questionable. Risk the wrath of your child's teacher by telling him or her what you really think of them?  Trust me, this is a bad risk.  I did it once and the next two children in line were punished for years.  Trusting your spouse?  A VERY bad risk.

And the books!  This morning I saw an interview with a girl who used to be one of the child actors on Full House, who has written a book about her drug addiction.  Jodie Sweeten has a newly released book about her recovery.  When asked by the host how long she had been clean she said it would be "one year in December"!  Writing, publishing and marketing a book takes longer that that!

Stephanie aka Jodie Sweeten, drug addict.

It's quite a racket.  Is everyone trying to pull the wool over our eyes?  Even Bernie Madoff can't believe that it took so long for them to catch him.  Why take the risk??

The New First Ladies

When Mary Todd Lincoln was in the White House she used to hold seances.  Everyone thought she was a nut case.  Well, here's a better one.  Miyuki Hatoyama, the wife of the new Prime Minister of Japan, has been to Venus.  She says it is very green there.  She also says that Tom Cruise was Japanese in another life and they know each other.  She is waiting to go to Hollywood to meet him, at which point he will greet her with the nonchalant "Hi, it's been a long time"! and then they will make a movie together.  Could I make this up?  It's all true!.

Miyuki Hatoyama

There was a time when being First Lady of anything meant posessing a certain sense of decorum and poise. 
Bess Truman, Bernadette Pompidou, Mamie Eisenhower?  Talk about staying in the background.  Practically invisible.  Now we have a guitar strutting model in the Elysee Palace who used to sleep with Mick Jagger, and a hot, smart, hula hooping mom in the White House.

I tell you - what's this world coming to?  Well I'll tell you - smart women are no longer listening to men.  They are doing their own thing and loving it.  Why didn't we learn this years ago?  When I was young we had to take Home Economics classes.  That's where you learned to make whoopie pies and sew a straight seam.  What they didn't tell you was that you were going to subjugate yourself and become someone else's slave for a good thirty or forty years.  Now that's Home Economics.  I wish I could have gone to Shop class.  At least that way I would know how to run a band saw.  No one had ever washed my socks, or folded my towels.  My sister makes her husband do his own laundry. Brilliant!  And he does it!  I always said my brother-in-law was a saint.

But cooking and sewing aren't enough.   We burden ourselves with pets, other people's children, car pools, baking cookies, hosting the perfect birthday parties, ridding ourselves of fat stomachs, making a fabulous tarte tatin, and bringing home the bacon.

And then they expect us to look good too.  And if we don't they will just go and grab another gullible woman.  Gird your loins ladies.  Grab your swords, put it on the line and say NO!  You'll be amazed at how good it feels.

Are We Having Fun Yet?

Last night I went to two parties.  Lucky me.  At the first one I knew everyone, but hadn't seen them in a long time.  At the second one I knew noone and went around introducing myself to people who were aghast that a stranger should come up and shake their hand.  I thought I was rather sparkling, jovial and happy.  Looking pretty good too, I might add.  Not bad for an old broad.  I think I like this life.

Most people live their lives as part of a twosome.  Bob and Pat, Jim and Sarah, Jane and Mike, Tim and Andrew.  It becomes like a one word description.  For 35 years I was part of that silly convention.  But now I am me.  Just me, with a whole new life ahead of me.  It's taken a long time, but I have shed that other half.  And good riddance to selfish assholes.  Let someone else deal with a dishonest partner.  Not me.

James Brown singing "Sex Machine" loud off Pandora (a fantastic invention, if you don't already know, pandora.com).  My daughter says it's like living in a night club around here.  That's just the way I like it.  Now if there could only be some cute guys offering to buy champagne I would have it made. 

Do we ever grow out of that feeling you get when a handsome man or woman that you are attracted to walks in a room and your head whips around to take a second look?  It happened to me the other day.  Whoa!  Pheramones, chemistry, or just plain sex appeal, it never ceases to amaze me.  It's not unlike that horrifying rush of adrenaline that I feel when I see a child go too close to the edge.

Go ahead.  Take a chance.  Do something that noone would expect you to do.  However, I would advise you not to do anything that Paris Hilton or Lindsay Lohan have done,  They are SO predictable!  Here Paris has broken two rules - no Africans, especially in costume on a set, and do we really need to see your underwear?  I'm sure that the photo was taken on Paris' last trip to the jungle, and who wouldn't bring along a fur stole?  The fact is that Cassava root makes a fabulous anti-cellulite treatment and these lovely ladies are obviously preparing some for her barren thigh.

                                                                         

Now Lindsay is another story.  That poor girl has got some trouble.  Yesterday I heard her father commenting on her new boobs - in prime time!.  Which one is worse? Father or daughter.  Put them both together and you have one dysfunctional family.  I should talk.......

The whole reality TV thing has gone way too far.  Thank God for cable.  All of the main stream networks are creating ever more ridiculous shows.  My favorite recently has been "Dating in the Dark".  I've never watched it but I have seen the commercials where some dude with night vision goggles is watching two people making out in the pitch black.  What is the point?  That you are such a whore that you will kiss someone who is down right ugly?  Or that men are such gullible idiots that they will fondle anything that breathes.

It all comes down to money - the great equalizer.  Money from the advertisers, money for the "contestants", money for the giant flat screen TV, money for the crew...  Making reality TV is cheap!  That's why it's so pervasive.  Bring back Gilligan's Island.  Cheap set, one camera and one bimbo.  A winning combination!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cfR7qxtgCgY&feature=related

Be transported back to another time, when there were no worries, no bills to pay, no children demanding things, nothing but Bob Denver, Jim Backus and Tina Louise.  Those were the days.......

It's Out of Control!!!

This whole Halloween thing has gone way too far. Walking around the neighborhood I saw entire graveyards, trees festooned with orange lights, multiple ghools hanging from porches and ,my favorite, a tacky Italianate sculpture that is now sporting a cape and a mask.

When did this happen? When did Halloween become a money maker for anyone except the candy companies? The big Halloween decoration at my house when I was young was a sheet that was stuffed with leaves, tied with a string and hung in the tree in front of the house about an hour before the doorbell started ringing.  Now there are whole blocks decorated from top to bottom, rivaling Christmas.

After the ceremonial ghost hanging we went inside to blacken corks for the requisite hobo 5 day old beard or commandeered a particular yellow skirt of my mother's, a kerchief, and some earrings and voila! A Gypsy. Today we can't even call them Gypsies, they are Roma. Even the pets are getting into the act.

" 19th hole boys"?

Celebrity costumes are always a hit.  Last year it was Sarah Palin, I suppose this year it will be Richard Heene or the Octo Mom.  Some celebrities don't know when to leave well enough alone.  Octo Mom herself has a costume that she put on for the paprazzi the other day. 

The wombanizer as a pregnant nun.  Almost too good to be true.

My daughter visited one of those pop-up Halloween stores the other day to purchase an angel costume for the 1st grader she babysits.  $38  for one of those bagged costumes!!  What's the matter with a hanger and some cheesecloth?  The child's father thought nothing of it and asked my daughter how much we used to pay for costumes.  PAY?   Are you kidding?  I made a couple of red satin capes one year and they became devils.  In subsequent years they were Little Red Riding Hood, a magician, Superman, and some vague representation of a nasty Dick Cheney.

These days you've got to be careful about being P.C.  No more Indians, either American or Asian, I think pirates are on the cusp.  Even President Obama and Condoleeza Rice are verbotten.  Once I was a flamenco dancer.  Think that Europeans are still OK.  So let's recap.

North Americans - OK

South Americans - not allowed

Europeans - OK

Asians - not allowed

Australians - OK if immigrants (?)

Antarcticans - penguins OK

Africans - never, under any circumstance

So in the end it probably safest to just dress your pet up and walk him or her around the neighborhood. 

                                                                          

Balloon dog .

                                                                       

Brother Leader and Style Guru

And who's the guy tied in a white sheet?

The votes are in and the hands down winner of this week's fashion icon award goes to Libyan President Muammar el-Qaddafi.  There is little narration needed for you, his adoring public, to see that this guy has got STYLE!  I I think he is his own designer, because if a real designer brought some of these clothes into his office I don't think he would see the next day's breakfast.

In his sartorial splendor he puts other world leaders to shame.  It's hard to tell where he gets his cues telling him what to wear for certain occasions.  But there is one accessory that he has all to himself.  He has the world's only armed harem.  It doesn't take a genius to see that these chicas are the ultimate multitaskers.

                                                                                                                                                                                     

                               

                                       

Quite the feminist is our Muammar.  Promoting women and women's rights throughout Libya.  How forward thinking of him to train these crack shots for combat.  One even took a bullet meant for him a few years ago. He's created a feminist paradise where women can have it all - and him too.

When President Qaddafi was in New York last week he traveled with his tent,  being the good Bedouin that he is.  Unfortunately, New York City would not give him a permit to erect it in Central Park, so he called on his good buddy Le Donald, who rented him some real estate on his property in Bedford. NY.  He was right down the street from Martha Stewart, who stopped by with a luscious lemon cream pie and some decorating tips for the tent.  She thought that the tent poles were rather "unsightly" and suggested using some of Muammar's wardrobe for a drapery effect to disguise them.  One of the bodyguards got wind of this scheme and threatened to use Martha as a basting brush until Martha reminded her that she was "down with her homies" and that she had spent time in the Big House and knew a thing or two about tough broads.

                                                                  

Note the stylish camel print on the walls.

One more accessory tip from Muammar.  When he visited Italy in June of this year he pulled the uniform from the back of the tent, supersized the medals and added a photograph pin that depicted Omar al-Muktar, who was hanged by the Italians in 1931.  A nice endearing touch for our friend President Berlusconi.  Of course Berlusconi couldn't object, since Muammar had invited him back to the tent that evening to get to know the bodyguards on a more personal level.

                                                                                

                                                                         

"I'll stop by the tent around 8."

                                                                          

"The September Issue"

Anna & Leon at the Philip Lam show

Most likely to succeed:  Anna Wintour

Class Brain : Grace Coddington

Class Clown: Andre Leon Talley

For those of you who grew up devouring your mother's Vogue Magazine, this is a must see.  Perhaps you have spent countless hours, as I have, going page by page through The Bible with your sister, friends, daughters, imagining that some day you would be able to actually be able to afford that fantastic Valentino suit, or Lacroix dress.  Forget it - it isn't going to happen in this lifetime.  All the thrift store rummaging and making over your grandmother's suits just isn't going to cut it in this rarified world.  My friend, who is an architect, saw the docu-drama with me.  She said that putting the Sept. issue together was not unlike building a house, where there are disagreements, clients and prima donnas to placate.

There was a time when stars were stars, based on their beauty and acting ability.  Take this legend of the silver screen, Julie Christie.  A very classy act.  68 years old!!!!  Tell us Julie, what is your secret you look mahvelous!

  "The September Issue" makes it very clear what we have all fogotten, that there was a time when celebrities did not sell couture.  The pages of Vogue sold couture, and on models whose names you probably didn't know except for Veruschka, and a few others.  Now there was a model.  She was really the world's first super model. and super she was, with legs about 7 feet long and an exotic pout that didn't exist on this side of the Atlantic.  That's when glamour was unattainable for us plebians.  Not only weren't we able to afford it, we couldn't even relate to the people who were wearing it.  Twiggy???  Knock-offs didn't exist. There was no H&M, no Forever 21 or anything like it.  If you wanted it, you bought it, or you made it.   I went through a period in 9th and 10th grade when I made a pair of pants every weekend so I could have something new to wear to the dance at the church.  That's when I wasn't wearing a Marimekko dress with white fishnets and clogs.  That was just after I got over the go-go boots and tank dresses.  About the same time as the paper dress.  I wore one to a dance one night and after two or three hours of doing the frug and the swim it just fell apart from perspiration.  I had to call for a ride home, or get detention for indecency. 

Now who do we have to look up to as our fashion icons.  Madonna, looking like she just left a garage sale on the West Side?  Little Kim, complete with holster and Cranshaw melons in her bra?  There's got to be a happy medium somewhere.  "The September Issue" won't give you all of the answers, but at least it will give you a hint at how our small minds are manipulated into thinking that pink goes with red.

The Pope Wears Prada

Say what you will about the Catholic Church, the head honcho is turning out to be the style icon of Vatican City.  He reportedly favors Prada shoes and Gucci sunglasses.  Here he is in his favorite red Prada loafers.  He is also bringing back some retro papal vetements including a fur trimmed cap called a caumaro that was last seen in St. Peter's Square a few centuries ago.  It has also been reported that he found a cape in the back of the papal costume department, red, trimmed with ermine, that is waiting for the right occasion to pull out.

Also today, Sarah Silverman has posted a video with a brilliant concept to feed the world - sell the Vatican!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3bObItmxAGc



How simple, generous, and fun would that be?  Can you imagine what they could get for the condos with balconies?  No more starving children, just Silvio Berlusconi and his latest pre-pubescent charmer watching his TV stations in the former papal chambers.

Here is the Prime Minister with the condo board trying to convince them that the young things revolving in and out of the second floor chambers are his neices.  Cardinal Bertoni (the one with the skull cap)  is thrilled with his good luck.  It's been such a long time since there were young nubile girls showing their stuff in the Vatican.  The usual motley crew usually wears wimples and has their eyes downcast.  When the girls are not flashing the crowd from the balcony they can be found with the Prime Minister at his retreat, where clothing is stricktly optional.  Come on, this is Italia.  Hair plugs, facelifts, aren't they all part of La Dolce Vita, and isn't that what Silvio is there to represent.  Hey, this is a hard job, setting the style for the rest of the country.  La Bella Figura!!

Our intrepid reporters, Mr. Ram and Mrs. Ewe have managed to infiltrate the party disguised as a Loro Piana cashmere sweater and coat.  Here's what they have to report:

Q: What do they serve for refreshments there at the villa?
Mrs. Ewe:  Well, I was rather unwhelmed by the choice of beverages.  Lemonade, Perrier (not even San Pellegrino) and some lousy Charles Shaw merlot.
Q: How about the food?
Mr. Ewe: Well, after the nice shrimp cocktail (it was on one of those Costco platters) they actually served baby lamb chops!  I think I recognized my Italian cousin Bernardo and his sister Nicoletta.  They always had a lot of fat.  They get that from their father Giambattista, who swears by the Alpine grasses.
Q: How about the guests?
Mrs. Ewe:  Well, they loved my sweater.  Who wouldn't ? Lora only makes her garments from the finest cashmeres.  I'm kind of thinking about keeping up this appearance.  There were lots of attractive, busty, young women and a couple of guys in Speedos who kept snapping each others suits.  As a matter of fact, I saw Sr. Berlusconi  behind the bushes with them a couple of times, doing things that they usually accuse us sheep of indulging in!
Thank you Mr. Ram and Mrs. Ewe.  I suppose you'll be heading home to Iceland now.
Mr. Ram:  Well, yes, but only to pack a carry on bag.  Now that I've seen Roma, you're not going to keep me back at the lava dome!  We'll be baaaaaaack!

Say what???

In the Incredible But True department, which is just down the hall on the left, is this photo, courtesy of my friend, comedian Joey Villagomez.  Now I love the Dollar Store, but steak???? That's taking the saving money thing way too far.  Very scary.

Next up from the creative types in the Incredible But True Dept. is this photo of La Michelle in her best hula hoop form.  I wonder if they gave her one of those weighted ones, which make all of the difference when you are going for the record.  They say she made 142 revolutions.   I won the hula hoop contest at our office Christmas Party a couple of years ago, but I cheated, I did it around my neck.

Now I ask you, would you have ever seen Laura Bush or Betty Ford out there on the lawn, not only hooping it up, but also clapping and thoroughly enjoying herself.  What does all of this mean for the rest of America?

Walk down the street in any American city.  The slovenliness and girth of most American women is astounding.  How can they be so rotund? The news recently has been full of stories and statistics about how uphappy women are and how they do all of the work of childraising, housework, homework, cooking, etc. AND they hold down full time jobs. Just managing a household with children should be enough to make most of us drop a few lbs.  Did we really need a Time Magazine poll to tell us this?  Men have definitely received the most benefit from the sexual revolution of the '70s and '80s.  They haven't changed a bit!  They still play golf for eight hours on the weekend, still leave their socks on the floor, still are clueless about children's schedules, and still pretend they don't know where the laundry detergent is kept. 

And yet they still won't pass ERA.  This image is from my favorite artist in the universe, Susan Baker, of Truro, MA.  As you can see, it was done in 1988.   Not much change there.  Ah, those were the days, marching down Michigan Ave. with LaDonna Harris, Gloria Steinham and Betty Freidan leading the parade of thosands of outraged women.  NO RESULT.  If we put Susan's slogan into practice, things would change lightning fast!

Yet, here is La Michelle.  Beautiful, smart, poised, with the belt going on at all times around that fabulous body.  She even has the girls make their own beds.  They seem like happy and well adjusted children despite the pressure of living in the White House.  I hope that some of her healthy eating prose does rub off on the American women who are killing themselves each time they put a Double Whopper with cheese in their mouths.  "Hey, can ya SuperSize it"?