Monday, June 30, 2008

Trickle Down Theory Affects Prostitution...by Sybil Adelman Sage

"What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" takes on another meaning as whorehouses closer to Reno and Las Vegas report business is up this year while rural brothels have had a decline as high as 25%.

Nevada brothels along Interstate 80 and US Highway 95 rely on long-haul truckers, who account for 75% of their business. If you're wondering why your shipment doesn't arrive on time, this explains it. But with diesel fuel costing significantly more this year, truckers have been forced to cut back on their "rest stops".

The Shady Lady Ranch along US 95, one of the whorehouses that's had a drop in business, is planning to offer gas cards to loyal clients, their version of a Frequent Flyer Club.

Let's hope the trickle down theory cuts down on trafficking.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

A person of interest...by Sybil Adelman Sage

When I was dating, being referred to as "a person of interest" was a compliment, used to describe a potential romantic partner considered worth seeing again. In our New Jersey high school, that was most likely to mean a guy with a car capable of carrying a ball across a field.

In college "a person of interest" was school and person specific, depending on each of our particular tastes and quirks. In my case, the phrase was all too often attached to someone likely to reject me, a big draw for those who'd had uninvolved fathers (if therapists can be trusted to account for such things).

When did the phrase come to mean someone authorities suspect of a crime, who's not yet being named as a suspect? And how do single people refer to what used to be "a person of interest"? Or does that explain why "hooking up" came to mean something different than it did to us?

Saturday, June 28, 2008

There's unity in New Hampshire, but not in golf clubs...by Sybil Adelman Sage

While a woman can run for president of the United States, she is not permitted in the men's grill room at the Phoenix Country Club nor can she join the Augusta National Golf Club in Georgia, the site of the Masters.

What are the men afraid of? Losing their balls?

Friday, June 27, 2008

the cough that ate europe...by judi sadowsky

i know, i know i have been missing in action but i have been sick. it seems that the only souvenir i brought back from spain, (and quite frankly, with the dollar being what it is, the only one i could afford) was a terrible cough. not just any old cough, oh no. this spanish cough is deep and dry, hacking and relentless. it is the kind of cough that makes you want to lie down and sleep all day, while it makes your friends, lovers, neighbors and the people, unfortunate enough to sit next to you at ballet, want to kill you.

in the beginning i tried the usual treatments. over the counter medicines didn't touch this baby. this cough laughed at anything that didn't require a triplicate prescription. the doctor put me on steroids, massive doses. "this will do it" she swore. "these drugs will have you pinning hulk hogan to the mat". wrong. oh yes, i could have pinned the entire world wide wrestling federation with one hand, while eating three to four, six course meals a day, but stop the cough - no way. while the steroids made me very strong, hungry, weepy and unable to sleep, they did nothing to stop the hacking, so we moved on to antibiotics. heavy antibiotics. the kind of antibiotics that made me think i had spent two weeks in mexico, not spain. now in addition to my cough, my enormous appetite, my insomnia and my "roid rage" i now had a serious stomach problem and - guess what - the cough lived on.

my doctor, who likes nothing better than a challenge, next perscribed an inhaler called advair. taken twice a day she swore it would do the trick. not so fast. not only is advair not working, but a friend told me there is some kind of major law suit involving this drug. something about people dropping dead. and so we move on. my last, and latest drug, is something called singulair. i have no idea what this drug does (actually, so far, nothing) but the commercial on t.v. shows a bunch of very tall, thin, blond women running through a meadow and, you know me, i am willing to sign on to anything that involves tall and thin.

and so i continue to cough. it has been four weeks now and i am beginning to become resigned to my fate. after all, since this is all i brought home from spain, i like to think of it as the gift that keeps on giving.

The George W. Bush Sewage Plant?!! ...by Sybil Sage

A tribute to our current president may be in the offing to be added to the existing structures named after our leaders, such as the Jefferson Memorial, Woodrow Wilson Bridge, Washington Monument, Reagan Airport, Roosevelt Island and pretty much everything bearing the Kennedy name, to be the George W. Bush Sewage Plant.

A group known as the Presidential Memorial Commission of San Francisco is hoping to rename the Oceanside Water Pollution Control Plant after the president once he leaves office. Their idea was conceived in a bar, a fitting setting when we consider what young George is best known for, and would place a vote on the November ballot to offer "an appropriate honor for a truly unique president," the group told The New York Times.

It's not known if this has inspired anyone to try to change the name of Hooters in honor of our last president.

Thursday, June 26, 2008

Want to be a bridesmaid? Go on eBay...by Sybil Sage

There's no predicting what will appear on eBay, demonstrated this week by the bride looking to defray the cost of her April 2009 wedding by auctioning off a bridesmaid spot in her wedding party, which sold for $5,700.

I would have happily paid a substantial amount to get out of being an attendant, each time feigning excitement and pretending to be flattered as I'd add yet another useless, pastel-colored gown to the collection in my closet along with uncomfortable, pointed toe, dyed-almost to-match silk pumps. The bride, Kelly Gray, a Virginia Beach hairdresser, has selected apple red bridesmaid dresses, a color that flatters almost no one. I know because I had to wear it on three occasions if I was to get my share of the chopped liver mold.

There was no eBay when I got married, so I could not have auctioned off a spot in the wedding party or the chance to tag along on our honeymoon, which will likely appear soon as an auction item. What next? Will we be seeing the vice-presidential spot auctioned off on ebay?

A reason not to get married young: My cousin, who'd introduced me to an amazingly mature and dashing 29-year-old when I was 23, a guy who swept me off my feet (blistered from too many bridesmaid shoes), just ran into him forty years later and reported, "He's obese, wears clogs and the worst thing...he's a Republican!"

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

What would George Carlin Have Said? ...by Sybil Adelman Sage

"Why do they lock gas station bathroom doors?" George Carlin asked. "Are they afraid someone will go in and clean?"

Though we never met, in the early 70's our interests converged. A year after he was arrested for his piece, "The 7 Dirty Words You Can't Say on Television," I wrote my first TV script, which the network refused to shoot. It was for "The New Dick Van Dyke Show," the series with Hope Lange playing Dick's wife, and a memo arrived from Program Practices (aka the censor) reading, "This script is entirely unacceptable." The reason? Their daughter walks into her parents' bedroom while they're "making love," (fill in your own aka), which we'd handled sensitively, using none of the 7 dirty words.

The producer, Carl Reiner, notified CBS that he'd walk away from the show if they stuck to this position, which is what happened, but not before he shot the episode at his own expense. It aired - though only in Canada - and there was not one letter from a viewer complaining that it was offensive.

A subsequent script I co-wrote with Pat Nardo resulted in a censor's note demanding, "Change the character's name from 'Dick' to something else," which we addressed, calling him 'Peter.' We suspected the censors were grade school kids whose tittering would determine what was dirty. I wonder what George Carlin would have said about all this.

Obscenity isn't always easy to define, but someone spending over $80 million to buy a piece of art (aka, what a Monet went for this week at a Christie's auction), I find obscene. That amount of money would be better spent feeding starving people or being put towards medical research while the painting could be enjoyed by all in a museum. We don't expect to own famous composers, so why do we (aka, they) spend an obscene amount on art? I wonder what George Carlin would have said about that.

An important voice has been silenced. It's a monumental loss.

Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Charlie Black apologizes, Don Imus Doesn't...by Sybil Adelman Sage

There are those who should be apologizing to us on a daily basis, but they seem to believe that being in this administration means never having to say, "I'm sorry," choosing, instead, to later distance themselves from their hideous actions and profit by writing a book.

Others do apologize and hope to get past an unfortunate incident, as was the case yesterday with John McCain's advisor, who'd said another terrorist attack on U.S. soil would be a "big advantage" for the Republican candidate. Black also said the "unfortunate event" of the assassination of former Pakistani leader Benazir Bhutto in December 2007 "helped us."

Black's comments were the focus of much harsh criticism and disputed by McCain, whose response was, "I cannot imagine why he could say it. It's not true. I've worked tirelessly since 9/ll to prevent another attack on the United States of America. My record is very clear."

Pollsters may not yet have broken down the terrorist vote, but maybe Black's statement means we can look forward to getting those numbers as well as find out how each candidate is faring in relation to specific fears, i.e., those with anxiety disorders, paranoia, borderline personalities. Which candidate has the bi-polar vote, or do they tend to flip flop, according to mood swings?

Unlike Charlie Black, Don Imus refused to apologize for the remark he made on the air yesterday, trying to defend it as expressing sympathy for the plight of an African-American athlete and not a slur. If Imus loses his radio job, his ability to spin so deftly while his feet are being held to the fire suggests he may consider a career in politics.

Monday, June 23, 2008

The Wars in New York...by Sybil Adelman Sage

A group of protestors with signs demanding human rights in Tibet has created a presence near where the cruise ships dock and their shouts were making it difficult to hear the radio as I was moving slowly on the West Side Highway, behind drivers seemingly undetered by the $4 a gallon price of gasoline. Despite the shouting, I was able to make out that those calling into WNYC were railing that tourists, cyclists, frisbee players, parks department employees and runners are at odds with one another in how they want to use Central Park. This topic may have been inspired by a new practice of cyclists being ticketed if they go through a red light in the park, which, curiously, they get away with on city streets.

WNYC is inviting New Yorkers to call in and submit their individual proposals for which city streets should be closed to traffic along with those Mayor Bloomberg is setting off for a period of time this summer, an experiment sure to create controversy and rancor. But what doesn't in this city?

While not approaching the tensions in Gaza, New York has to contend with the peculiarities that we're a vocal bunch living here. Whether it's a private citizen, block association, street vendor, movie company or the street fair crepe makers, we each feel entitled and determined to stake out our territory.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

going, going, gone...by judi sadowsky

a young man in australia has put his life up for auction on ebay. it seems his girlfriend broke up with him and his life, as he knew it, didn't seem worth much to him anymore. he has put his house, his car, all his possessions, an opportunity to interview for his job (at the local rug shop) and all his friends, who have apparently agreed to befriend the highest bidder, on sale. he is hoping to earn enough money to start a new life somewhere else.

it is funny about our culture today. twenty years ago, the mere thought of selling your life would be considered odd, if not downright crazy. now, a life is right up there, next to a slightly used microwave oven and a brand new, never been worn, pair of red, satin manolo blahnik pumps, size eight.

the more i think about it, however, the less crazy the idea seems. who hasn't, at one time or another, fantasized about walking out of our own humdrum existence and starting all over again, in a new town, with all new chances? i am curious, though, about the people who are bidding on this young man's life. sure, it does sound like an easy way to start a new life, with everything in place, including best friends and a car, but i would hope, that if i were desperate, or just plain adventurous enough, to buy a new life on ebay, i would not bid on one that included a job interview at the local rug store.

Saturday, June 21, 2008

New York Parking Quirks...by Sybil Adelman Sage

Following the breaking news on the crawl this morning that a Jewish woman will remove her wig for the mug shot following her arrest was the figure of $130,000 being wasted on gas yearly by Upper West Side residents who regularly move their cars in search of a legal parking spot. I'm not sure if that covers the entire group of drivers or just my sister-in-law.

Regardless, it's still way less than a monthly parking space in a Manhattan garage, where spots can go for as high as $2,000 a month, more than a rental for a one-bedroom apartment in a trendy downtown neighborhood. Keeping a stretch-limo in a garage on East 76th Street runs $1,940 while a garage on West 72nd Street charges $822 for a regular car. The average monthly rental in midtown will hit $1,000 this year, marking Manhattan monthly parking as the most expensive in the country.

In addition, New York City drivers get used to being hit up for money at a red light by a guy with a cup, many of whom look more competent and employable than those working at Circuit City or The New York Sports Club. Factor in the need to park the car we've removed from its costly, covered spot and you understand why people who don't live here call us crazy.

Last night we'd driven into the Meatpacking District and as I slowed down to look for a parking spot, a man standing in the intersection called out and indicated I should park on the block where orange cones were lined up along the curb and signs were posted saying parking would be prohibited the following day. I jumped out and had already moved the lightweight, plastic cones when he came charging up, saying, "I'll get those for you," which even my husband had not offered to do. I thanked him, at which time he explained he does this for money.

I know what to tip cab drivers and manicurists, but was fuzzy about what to give a well, dressed, independent parking contractor providing a service I'd neither requested nor needed whom I'd assumed was being neighborly. Because my cash comes from an automatic machine, I had only twenties and a single dollar, which I gave him. His look was the equivalent of a spit. "I get ten dollars!" he said, returning the bill to me.

"It's nice that you're doing that well," I responded, heading to the restaurant to catch up with my husband, who'd gone on to be sure of getting the table we'd reserved.

When I related the story, my husband, who'd grown up in New York, said, "Go right back and give him the ten bucks. He'll scratch the car!"

"But don't bother if he's already done it," our friend, Patty, also a native New Yorker, advised.

I rushed back, was relieved to find the car had not been vandalized and the guy nowhere in sight so I drove around the block and parked it out of his district.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Just Do It: a couple has sex every day for 101 days...by Sybil Adelman Sage

"Just Do It" was written by Annie and Douglas Brown, a couple who'd had sex daily for 101 days, her suggestion yet his name is on the cover, which makes me question the success of this project. Their goal was to set a record and then write about it. They concluded it was too exhausting to be a lifetime activity.

My husband and I may not choose to write about it, but we're competitive and we're now - coinciding with the summer solstice - at day 11 of eating cherries in bed, and there are two new pounds in the refrigerator drawer.

Stay tuned though the fact that cherries are seasonal may dampen the prospects for our getting a book deal.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

thank you, department of motor vehicles! ...by judi sadowsky

forget diamonds. you can keep your furs and fancy sports cars. i just got the best birthday present of my life. yesterday, it came in the mail, a skinny white envelope - from the dmv. the department of motor vehicles was renewing my drivers license - through the mail!!!

there will be no long lines for me to wait on. no wasting an entire day studying the drivers ed manual. the truth is that after over thirty-seven years of driving, i still can not tell you how many car lengths one should stay behind a weight bearing truck, on a mountain road. the actual truth is, that in thirty-seven years, i have never once been behind a weight bearing truck on a mountain road and if i were, i think i would just pull over, have a nice picnic, and wait until the coast was clear.

the one thing that does bother me a bit about renewing my license through the mail is that the dmv is actually relying on me to be honest about any and all vision changes. how many times have i ridden behind an older person (defined, by the way, as anyone older than me) cursing them out as being too slow, or even worse, blind as a bat? do you think those people lied on their driver's license renewal form? i shudder to think. after all, not everyone is as honest as i, and to tell the truth, even though my vision may not be as sharp as it once was, it certainly is not something i feel a need to share with a government agency.

and here is the best part of having your license renewed through the mail. they will be sending me my new license with my old photo, height and weight. yes sir, not only has the dmv given me the gift of no hassle renewal, they are also giving me the gift of eternal youth.



What we should learn from Angeline Jolie's mole...by Sybil Adelman Sage

"Entertainment Weekly" is sporting an unflattering photo of Angelina Jolie on its cover, her pores not befitting a movie star, her chin jutting forward, a shadow under her nose and a mole on her forehead. This has gotten the attention of those who focus on these things and they're trying to figure out why these flaws are nowhere to be seen in the same photo on the EW web site.

Okay, I'll admit it, I got drawn it. You can just think so long about the Khmer Rouge trials, Mc Cain's moves, same sex marriage and Gaza students with scholarships. I have a theory. Maybe they'd allowed Jennifer Anniston to play around with the cover photo. If so, she showed restraint in not Photoshopping a moustache onto the face of the woman who broke up her marriage.

If there's anything to be learned from the comparison of these photos, it's that what you see is not necessarily what you get. I found that out years ago upon arriving at a hotel in the French countryside and being assigned a tired, drab, cell-like room that bore no resemblance to the room in the hotel's brochure. I stomped down to the lobby and presented the photo, demanding we be moved.

"That's the room in the brochure," I was assured. A more careful look at the picture revealed what a particular lens, lighting and professional touch-up were capable of doing.

"Wow!" I responded. "I'd like that photographer to take a picture of me."

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Things that baffle me...by Sybil Adelman Sage

I don't get:

That leather purses and plastic eyeglass frames have shot up in price along with gasoline. Are they controlled by OPEC?

Memory loss

The popularity of rubber shower shoes

Whoopee Goldberg

Shamelessness

Watching reality TV shows

Why you always weigh more at the doctor's office

Baggy jeans belted so low, you can't walk and your crack shows

How planes stay in the air

Who made up lol, brb, etc. (etc. I get; it's Latin)

What causes headaches

Hedge funds and investment banking

but most of all Whoopee Goldberg

Monday, June 16, 2008

my heart belongs to daddy....by judi sadowsky

after spending an absolutely perfect father's day with the husband and our two children, i couldn't stop thinking about the sweetness of a good father/child relationship. i think we all had on our minds, the untimely death of tim russert, and his very public and oft, expressed love and admiration for both his father and his 22 year old son luke.

22 is just too young to lose a dad. i think back on my own father and how in the 22 years since he has been gone, how often he is my thoughts. mothers are mothers. the butt of jokes and the lynch pin of sit-coms but fathers, as least back in my generation, were much more mysterious beings. while moms stayed home and cooked, cleaned and drove carpool, dads went off to that far away place called the city - returning home in time for a dry martini and a home cooked dinner. in my house "wait until your father gets home" did not always mean a good thing. my father was the ultimate weapon my mother used when nothing she said or did would stop my sister and i from trying to murder each other. i don't ever remember my father acting on any of my mother's warnings, but just the sound of her threat was enough to straighten us up. i always wanted to please my dad and while he was not the most effusive or affectionate kind of guy, i always knew he loved me. he was the last word in any argument, and as we grew older we valued his intellect and common sense. he was not a perfect man, but in 22 years his flaws seemed blurred by his goodness.

i know my children know how much they are loved by their father and he knows just how much they adore him. they are well grown, my two, no longer in need of the kind of parenting they did when they were young and yet, while 22 is too young to lose a father, i actually think we are never really old enough to get over the loss of our daddy's.

Sunday, June 15, 2008

Tim Russert, a father who art in heaven...by Sybil Adelman Sage

This father's day weekend has been a non-stop tribute to Tim Russert, deservedly as he remained at the top of his profession and passionately committed to his job and work family yet never at the expense of his family, which included, even at the age of 58, his father. It's lamentable that a man managing this emotional multi-tasking is being noted with awe when, ideally, it should be the norm.

It's hard to single out which of the many attributes noted by Russert's colleagues were most valued, but his devotion to his and everyone else's family was mentioned by all. Regardless of whom we help, mentor or advise, it's our children who are most affected by us and who continue to experience our presence long after we're gone.

Though it's not always easy to figure out when and how to best be there for them, ironically, it can include backing off. Our kids may appreciate hearing, "Good try" when they've struck out in Little League only to feel patronized and wince at it years later. Parenting is dynamic. We have to accommodate that they change and read their faces to understand what they're feeling and needing, whether it's articulated or withheld.

We need to pass a test in order to get a driver's license or even to sell real estate, yet parenting, the most important job one can have, is open to anyone. It's up to us to set the standards, to give unconditional love and support. Those of us married to men who are a responsible and loving presence to our children can embrace today and say: Happy Father's Day. I'm lucky enough to be among them.

Friday, June 13, 2008

looking for houseguests? look east....by judi sadowsky

today's newspaper had, as it's front page story, a disturbing article about obesity in japan. it seems the government has issued a new mandate, requiring all adults between the ages of forty and seventy-five, to get their waistlines measured. if the measurements are above 33.5 for men and 34.6 for women, they are sent to be "educated". many people are refusing to get measured. i don't think of the japanese as a fat people and, with waistlines those sizes, they would hardly even qualify for the plus size departments in the u.s.

in another section of the newspaper there was huge article about second home owners who are having trouble filling their guest rooms on weekends and holidays. there was story after story of people who owned lake front homes and beach homes and ski homes with guest rooms and bathrooms galore and yet have trouble finding any takers. some of them blame their friends, saying they are too spoiled and expect to be waited on hand foot, want frette linens and room service. others claim that their vacation homes are too far for their friends to travel to or, as in the case of one woman, her parents and pets are always there and, apparently, some people don't like either. in reading this article, i couldn't help but think of that self help book that was popular a few years ago. it told women when it was time to dump a boyfriend. the title was "he's just not that into you". well folks, stop blaming the linens from bed, bath and beyond. i would just start looking for new friends.

on that note, i think all these second home owners should start looking to japan. i have a feeling a lot of japanese are going to start moving here. i am sure they would like an invitation to some of these homes. they may be fat but i am sure they will be grateful.

What Happens when we run out of News? by Sybil Adelman Sage

Pity the pundits, hard pressed to fill the endless airtime in the absence of juicy stories about Obama's pastor, Jeremiah Wright, or Cindy McCain's refusal to reveal her financial records, this week reduced to yammering about the significance of McCain's confusing Shiite and Sunni. Look for Joe Lieberman to remain within earshot of the 71-year-old candidate should he get murky again and, let's say, claim that Woody Allen is married to a Sunni.

When the 24-hour news stations run out of news, they rely on analysis, so are now reflecting not only on ageism, but sexism, reflecting on what part it played in Hillary's campaign while trying to account for her demise. After concluding the cause was a poorly run campaign, they move on to speculate on likely vice-presidential choices, breaking down what and whom each candidate must distance himself from and what he'll need to do to win.

Remaining minutes are devoted to the polls, seemingly any polls, hoping we'll stay tuned to see how iPod owners under the age of thirty five are trending and who's getting the support of the older gay, Hispanic bakery owners. Fortunately for those of us whose ADD doesn't allow us to remain transfixed by all of this, there's the crawl.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

On Our Watch: George W. Bush and I Finally Have a Common Regret...by Sybil Adelman Sage

George W. Bush is so unpopular in Europe, nobody's even taking time out of their day to protest during his visit. He's a non-event. Our Portuguese cab driver carped about the rising price of fuel, holding Bush responsible. Maybe we can't blame everything on our tragically misguided president, but this week he broke with tradition by telling The London Times that though he has no regrets about the decision to invade Iraq in 2003, "I think that in retrospect I could have used a different tone, a different rhetoric." He conceded that phrases like "bring them on" and "dead or alive" had given the impression he was "not a man of peace."

This admission is an anomaly, coming from a man who takes pride in being neither reflective nor repentant. He's refused to be accountable, abused the power of the office and seemingly believed (a word he now owns) that he could convince us we're wrong to be frightened by his administration, the war and the economy.

With 221 days remaining of his regrettable, two-term presidency, he's changed direction to emphasize diplomacy over military force. Hey, Mr. Prez, try this on: too little, too late. The damage is done. People everywhere are on to you. Someone else will have to mop up what you've done.

Until now, there's never been a thing about Bush I could relate to, but his regret about, "Bring them on" caused me to wince with recognition. I, too, am faced with the consequences of having said, "Bring them on" -- at every opportunity, to every waiter in every European restaurant we went to. Like W, I know, all too well, the consequences of not having shown judgment and restraint. The difference is my watch isn't ending and I'm the one who will have to do the crunches.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

no, no they can't take them away from me...by judi sadowsky

when the women of the world united and burned their bras, i cheered. i was young and who needed a bra anyway? i remember my mother wearing a girdle and i remember how thrilled she was when the old girdles were tossed aside after the invention of panty girdles. i was too young to ever have to wear a panty girdle (except maybe once or twice in an attempt to feel grown up) but i do remember wearing a garment called "suss pants". suss pants were pink, ruched undies with garters attached. they were like training girdles.

with each new underwear invention women moved forward toward freedom. by the time panty hose came along we were well into feminism and mini skirts. we could show our legs and be comfortable at the same time. panty hose changed the world. you could be as bare as you dared and yet still feel covered.

as i grew older, panty hose became my best friend. not only could the hose camouflage all sorts of imperfections, blotchy skin and unsightly veins, but the newer panty hose collections included support. a good pair of hose could smooth out bumps and lumps and make you look five pounds slimmer. i grew old and i was happy.

now, suddenly, women are at it again. suddenly going bare legged has become a sign of liberation. suddenly, we panty hose wearers are deemed old fashioned and out of step. i see the panty hose as going the way of the girdle. soon those of us whose bare legs have not seen the light of day since the vietnam war are going to be forced to go "commando" leg wise.

i for one will not go gently into the good night. hold on ladies. do not give up your rights. if a woman can run for president (who by the way is rumored not to have the greatest legs - hence the pants suits) than we should have enough political clout to hold on to our little bits of nylon and spandex!!!

They're baaa-ck: Paula Jones & Gennifer Flowers...by Sybil Adelman Sage

Do you find yourself unable to stop singing, "Where Have All the Flowers Gone?" Probably not. Are you wondering where Gennifer Flowers has gone? Same answer, right? Yet, Flowers, who reportedly had a 12-year affair with Bill Clinton, explains her new web site with Paula Jones, briefly in the public eye when she filed a sexual harassment suit against the former president, with the rationale, "It's a way we can get our story out there in our own words, without someone making their own interpretations or corrections." These women can relax. Interest in them waned years ago, even before we were diverted by the impact of terrorist attacks, the war, the price of gas and Anna Nicole Smith.

Flowers and Jones are hoping to get $1.99 each time they're hit on (the very thing they're known for) by those curious to see videos revealing what they have to say about the former president, his wife and "other matters". Will people pay when they can watch a divorced woman rant pro bono about her husband on You Tube? Might they not opt to spend what little money we all have left renting from Netflix?

If politics make for strange bedfellows, here's a case of strange bedfellows making for weird politics. If there's anything to speculate about, it's only whether the timing was linked to Hillary having pulled out of the race and if the profits will go towards creating an ex-rated or x-rated room adjacent to the Clinton Library.

Once again, we see there's no shortage of shabbiness, shamelessness, greed and the desperate desire to remain in the public eye. A grateful high five to Monica Lewinsky for not participating in the web site as well as for not writing a book!

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

The Angry, Older Women Calendar...by Sybil Adelman Sage

Angry, older women are now all the rage, as not only one man, but two, are in hot pursuit of them. And it's not just any man, but super-achievers, presidential candidates, hoping to get the votes of women grappling with the disappointment that they will not see a woman president in their lifetime. This is the demographic John Mc Cain and Barack Obama are hoping to connect with.
Senior alpha women are the new hotties on the block, replacing super models, heiresses, even Angelina Jolie.

Angry women, it's your turn to experience what it's like to be a pin-up. Enjoy your power. Hold out. Play hard to get. You know the sound. Practice saying, "I'm just not ready. I can't commit. I need more time." Make them work to get you onboard. Let them woo you with promises of improving your status. Maybe think about turning it into a calendar that starts with June 2008: the Year of the Angry Women.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

We Should All have Super-Delegates of our 0wn...by Sybil Sage

With one day remaining to make the most of Lisbon, it's helpful to be traveling with two trusted friends, who are willing to tell it as it is.

"Your hair needs a little fixing in the back where you can't see it," Brooks will suggest, most welcome after a four-hour car trip that would have taken 45 minues had the GPS system worked. "Let's just eat pizza from now on," Josh offers so wisely after we've spent a fortune on overcooked vegetables and overly-salted, inedible cod prepared every which way except good. They are no loonger just friends, but now our super-delegates, trusted advisors who prevent us from making more mistakes.

This is why I intend to appoint from my pool of friends a contingent to be super-delegates, who will advise on our household furnishings, parenting and spiritual needs. Friends who are on your side and candid can be authorized to tell you when you're right and wrong, putting you into the job you deserve, sparing you from the holes you routinely fall into. I'm now heading to the hotel lobby to see if what I'm wearing and my proposed walking tour will get rubber stamped.

Saturday, June 7, 2008

a broad gets her wings by judi sadowsky

on the final leg of our journey home from spain, the husband and i had decided to fly jet blue. the fare was right and the schedule fit in with our return. we knew it was a no frills airline but we had flown it before, from l.a. to new york, and always had a pleasant experience. in keeping with the current state of nickel and dime-ing among airlines, we had already agreed to pay an extra ten dollars a ticket, for two aisle seats with extra leg room, in the front of the plane. when we had to change our return flight and come home a week earlier (don't ask - pouring rain, sickness, cell phones that didn't work and business pressures) jet blue, in a one hour phone call from spain, informed me that there were no seats available in the front of the plane with extra leg room. we had no choice.

on arriving at the check in counter (we usually check in curb side but that now costs an extra ten dollars) we were told that, as of june 1st (it was june 1st), we had to pay another ten dollars for our extra bag. we paid the money (and we thought spain was expensive) and ran to make our flight. we boarded just in time but i still had to, as is my ritual, meet the pilots and make sure they were happily married, not suicidal and that there was no red on the radar, indicating a bumpy, and therefore scary, flight. the pilots assured me that despite the fact that there were tornadoes erupting all across the country from washington, d.c. to colorado, all would be well.

finally, we were seated, only to wait on the runway for an hour an a half, turning a six hour flight into one that took longer than flying to barcelona. once airborne, i shelled out five dollars for a vodka and one dollar for a "free" headphone. no longer free as of june 1st. once airborne, we proceeded to bump and jolt across the country. the seat belt sign flashing on and off like a las vegas slot machine. fifteen dollars worth of vodka later, we finally landed. i was drunk, jet lagged and starving. jet blue's offering of blue corn tortilla chips and chocolate chip cookies was not enough to offset the effects of the vodka combined with the turbulence. i just wanted out of the plane. not so easy. there are no jet ways at long beach airport and so we had to wait until there was an available staircase to allow us to get off. i was sure that any minute they were going to charge each of us, as of june 1st, ten dollars to deplane.

as we were walking off the plane and we said our perfunctory "bye bye's" to the flight attendant, i heard some one call "miss". since it has been a really long time since anyone has referred to me as a "miss" i kept walking. down the steps i tottered and as soon as my feet hit the pavement i felt a tap on my shoulder. i turned to see the pilot standing there with his hand outstretched. i looked at him with a blank stare. "i wanted you to have these" and held out his palm. he was holding a pair of wings. plastic wings. he was giving me a pair of plastic wings to apologize, i think, for the bumpy flight. "thank you" i stammered as we both just stood there, and then he said it "that will be ten dollars, as of june 1st". we both laughed and i waved goodbye. he waved back, but i don't think he was kidding.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

Trying to decode the news from Portuguese TV...by Sybil Sage

Being unable to understand the language, from what I'm seeing on TV here in Lisbon, it appears that Hillary Clinton is celebratory and may be picking a running mate with her short list being Scott McLellan, Yves St. Laurent and Universal Studios head, Ron Meyer (shown with elaborate special effects behind him).

June 2 marks the first anniversary of Bicoastal Broads. We thank you for your support.