f/k/a . . .

Sad tale:  Two decades ago, the most beautiful lawyer on the planet brought me to a 

fund-raiser for Sen. Harry Reid, when I visited her in Carson City, flying from my home

in D.C.   I don’t remember a word he said, but that could be because (a) a baked

chicken breast exploded when my fork entered it, sending a pint or so of fat all over

my shirt, tie, suit, etc.  or (b) gorgeousEsq had broken up with me that morning. This

came back to me while watching Sen. Reid on Meet the Press this morning.  This time,

I listened and was quite dismayed that the new Democratic leader failed to answer so

many important questions.  [But, he would "rather dance than fight" and will punch back

if punched.]  Tim Russert didn’t bother to press for answers.   Another disappointment from

Nevada (where I also might have contracted chronic fatigue syndrome).

 

  Among other historical misconceptions caused by his popular song, Steve Martin confesses

in a NYT op/ed today:  

• 
  
  King Tut was not “born in Arizona.”
  
  
• 
  
  He did not live in a “condo made of stone-a.”

Meanwhile, Maureen Dowd admits the Christmas Season drives her crazy. Amen.

 

  Has the “productive” Post-it