First published in October, 1990
On the charge of sexual misconduct leveled against Oregon Senator Bob Packwood, the Senate Ethics Committee found in his diaries 18 cases of groping, kissing and propositioning, the worst of which read like sexual assault. Here are some of the entries as leaked to us by a molested female staffer.
10/2/89: Dear Diary:
Today I sniffed Many dogs behinds - I celebrate By kissing your face. Lie belly-up In the sunshine, happier than You will ever be. I lift my leg and Greet each bush. Hello, Spot - Sniff this and weep. My human is home! I am so ecstatic I have Made a puddle. Look in my eyes and Deny it. No human could Love you as much as I do. The cat is not all bad She fills the litter box With tootsie rolls.
After the warm rain the sweet smell of camellias. Did you wipe your feet? Her lips near my ear, Aunt Sadie whispers the name of her friend's disease. Looking for pink buds to prune, the old moyel wanders among his flowers. Today I am a man. Tomorrow I will return to the seventh grade. Harsh Scrabble discord-- someone has placed "putzhead" on a triple word score. Testing the warm milk on her wrist, she sighs softly. But her son is forty. The sparkling blue sea reminds me to wait an hour after my sandwich. Tea ceremony-- fragrant steam perfumes the air. Try the cheese danish. Lacking fins or tail the gefilte fish swims with great difficulty. Yom Kippur-- Forgive me, Lord, for the Mercedes and all that lobster. My nature journal -- today, I saw some trees and birds. I should know the names? Like a bonsai tree, your terrible posture at my dinner table. Beyond Valium the peace of knowing one's child is an internist. Jews on safari -- map, compass, elephant gun, hard sucking candies. Coroner's report -- "The deceased, wearing no hat, caught his death of cold." The same kimono the top geishas are wearing: got it at Loehmann's. The sparrow brings home too many worms for her young. "Force yourself," she chirps. Jewish triathlon: gin rummy, then contract bridge, followed by a nap. "Can't you just leave it?" the new Jewish mother asks - umbilical cord. The shivah visit: so sorry about your loss. Now back to my problems. Our youngest daughter, our most precious jewel. Hence the name, Tiffany. Mom, please! There is no need to put that dinner roll in your pocketbook. Seven-foot Jews in the NBA slam-dunking! My alarm clock rings. Concert of car horns as we debate the question of when to change lanes. Sorry I'm not home to take your call. At the tone please state your bad news Is one Nobel Prize so much to ask from a child after all I've done? Today, mild shvitzing. Tomorrow, so hot you'll plotz. Five-day forecast-feh Left the door open. for the Prophet Elijah. Now our cat is gone. Yenta. Schmeer. Gevalt. Shlemiel. Shlimazl. Tochis. Oy! To be fluent! Quietly murmured at Saturday services, Yanks 5, Red Sox 3. A lovely nose ring -- excuse me while I put my head in the oven.
Luciano Vincenzoni, one of the writers who brought us such spaghetti westerns as The Good, The Bad and the Ugly and For A Few Dollars More is writing a film on the life of Puccini.
The following scene dramatizes a little known meeting between Puccini and Ruggerio Leoncavallo.
I was in the mood for a nice, romantic movie, one of those great love stories that Hollywood used to grind out so proficiently in the past. The formula was classic — boy-meets-girl, boy-loses-girl, boy-gets-girl, the-end. You went home knowing that our lovebirds lived happily-ever-after. These movies — they weren’t films, they were movies — always made you cry and feel good at the same time,
Report From Canada: March 2, 2002
Perhaps Prime Minister Jean Chretien was right when he originally balked at sending 2000 Canadians and various military equipment to Afghanistan, saying that he didn’t want to send his troops “where they’re not wanted.” Then again, perhaps someone should inform Mr. Chretien that the the military is supposed to go where they’re not wanted. Otherwise they’d be tourists.
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When my son, Mario, was three years old I heard a troubling raspiness in his voice, to me an ironic condition because his full Christian name is Mario del Monaco Boni, after the great Italian singer, Mario del Monaco, whose death almost twenty-five years ago on October 16 closed the chapter on that rare operatic creature — the heroic tenor.
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