What A Month October Was!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                          Forget the Covid, birthdays, and Halloween.  They are all givens.  October 2020 will,  from now on,  be remembered as when I had, and got through, my heart ablation procedure.

                                           I am grateful to be here, and thanks to all the support I received, both on and off line.  All of you made this most  difficult of times easier to manage.

                                          That is all.  Now, we have November coming  up, which brings Election Day--Oh, my God!!!!!!!!, Thanksgiving,  Musical Theater Week,  and  my birthday.   How to celebrate it as a diabetic is a problem.  But  I have some ideas!

                                            Hope your October was more fun than mine, except I had my precious David, all the way,  and may your November be joyful and  merry!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                               See you next month, dears!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Have A Shock Monster Halloween, Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                        When I was a child,  my favorite candies were these chocolate monster lollipops.  I don't know if they make them anymore.  The front was white chocolate, onto which was embossed, in brown chocolate, a picture of the Shock Monster, seen above.  I think there was one of the Girl Vampire, but my favorite was always the Shock Monster.  How I would love one of his lollipops!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                          Alas, Halloween is no holiday for diabetics!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                         But there is still fun to be had.  Curling up with a horror classic is one way.

                                         And  viewing  a film classic is  another.  But which one?

                                        I had toyed with  the idea of "Earth  Vs.  The Spider," an AIP classic from 1958.  Just love when the museum ensconced spider digs the crazy rock beat!!!!!!!!!!!  Here it  is,  for you to see!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

              

                                     It's your choice, darlings!  But I am going with John Carpenter's 1978 classic, "Halloween."  Fun, traditional, with that haunting music score and brilliant mixture of horror and humor!  Not to mention Jamie Lee Curtis!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                       Whatever my ghosties and ghoulies do, I wish you all the happiest, safest and most enjoyable of Halloweens.  Liven  up these dreary times!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                           Trick or treat?  I'll take whatever I can get!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Typical Marilynne Robinson!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                   No matter what she writes, I always read Marilynne Robinson, because I can always count on penetrating insights, character examination, and gorgeous language.  "Jack," part of her cycle that began with my favorite, "Gilead," details the relationship of Jack Boughton, the prodigal son of that Gilead, Iowa family, whose father is a Presbyterian minister, and his relationship with a woman of  color named Della Miles.  It reminded me of an interracial take on Lanford Wilson's play, "Talley's Folly," only Robinson layers it with so much detail--both present and past--that the reader is spellbound by the tale being told.  Both characters are sympathetic and tragic, yet the ending is almost hopeful,  kind of like a non-comic version of "The Graduate."

                                                      For anyone who has read her, Robinson's latest is a must.  

                                                      For those who have not, "Gilead" is where one should start.

                                                      This novel was so good.  And, yet,  I wish it had been better.

                                                       It left this reader wanting....I don't know what!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, The Whole Thing Is Stolen By Amanda Plummer, And A Monkey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                     Forget Ken Kesey and Louise Fletcher, darlings.  If one is going to enjoy "Ratched," one has to suspend a lot of disbelief.  Because, I am telling you, there is no way the character Sarah Paulson projects here could eventually morph into that of Louise Fletcher.  They are from two different universes.

                                        As for Sarah Paulson, much as we love her, aside from her stunning ensembles, and some superb color photography, she delivers what is actually a one note performance.  Alas, she is only doing what she has been directed to do.  The same cannot be said of anyone  else.  Everyone  else just seems to hit their marks, and then camp it up, while Ryan Murphy shoots the footage.

                                         Poor Sharon Stone.  She is stuck having to be upstaged by a monkey named Petunia--I LOVE Petunia!!!!!!!!!--while channeling Gloria Swanson as Norma Desmond, while her intonation and blonde wig make it pathetically apparent that Jessica Lange was the first choice for this character.  She was wise to turn it down.  And she would never allow a monkey to upstage her!  She went through that, already, in 1976's "King Kong!"  And look how that set her back!!!!!!!!!

                                             But poor Sharon needs the work.  She never recovered from spreading her legs in 1992's "Basic Instinct," while Wayne Knight, who would go on to play loser Newman  on "Seinfeld," drools lasciviously,  which I am certain was real, because he could never get a delicious morsel like Sharon.  Alas, that time has passed.

                                             

                                                     But, thank God, darlings, for Amanda Plummer, as Louise, the jazziest Jazz Baby since Carol Channing in 1967's "Thoroughly Modern Millie."  If  there is a second season--as is reported,  wouldn't it be great to have Amanda sing that song??????????  Again, it cannot be determined if she is acting,  or playing Amanda.  But what does it matter?  She is brilliant  Hons,  I cannot wait for more of Amanda!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            

                                              Louise owns the Sea Light Inn, which is a real locale, so all us queens want to flock to it.  Those cliffside views are gorgeous, perfect for romance or suicide.  And, if I show up, Amanda had  better  be there to hand me my room key.  Imagine taking a shower here!  Janet Leigh, as Marion  Crane!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                             Still, we get to see a lot of Finn Wittrock's body, especially his nice buttocks, as well as watching that tramp, Dolly, played by Alice Englert, masturbate Finn through jail bars, and who deserves what she gets.  Ryan Murphy has no shame, even copying Arthur Penn. 

 

                                            Then, there is Judy Davis as Nurse Betsy Buckett.  The irony is that in the early scenes, one could see her morphing  into Louise Fletcher, but it is obvious she took one look at the script, and decided to do what she pleased, even to the point of channeling Judy Garland.  Still, she is even better now than Rene Zellweger.  She livens things up, whenever she appears; even when she takes a 180 degree turn!

                                             Cynthia Nixon as a lesbian?  Big leap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

               

                                              But, really, darlings, the true star of this camp fest is Petunia,  the monkey.  When  Sharon Stone enters the room, with Petunia on her shoulder, who is even looking at Sharon?  With an eye for the camera that I wish some of the actors had, and a haute couture that makes me envious, Petunia is in total command of this show whenever she appears.  And her final triumph is delightful.

                                               I can see ANNA putting her on a "VOGUE" cover!

                                               Now,  if a way could be found to team her, Amanda, and Judy!!!!!!!!!!!

                                              This is camp of the highest order, and if one goes in knowing that, one can enjoy "Ratched."

                                               But anyone expecting a full exploration of she, or any of Kesey's other characters, is  bound to be disappointed.

                                                  I will say the puppet theater scene I found the most disturbing part.  It goes Jamesian,  asking the viewer are we seeing this through the eyes of Ratched, or the children?  And you get two answers, one that explores the sadistic side of children.   Mister Bill proved that decades ago on "Saturday Night Live!"

                                               Better to explore Petunia's back story.  What a past that woman should have!

How Did This Tripe Rate A Pick As A "Good Morning, America Book Club" Selection???????????????????????

                                                           Not only was this book disappointing, it was depressing.  I mean, not on the level of Joan Didion,  but more like in some piece of garbage, such as "True Story" magazine.

                                                             Get this,  Dannie (for Danielle) Kohan,  a Manhattan careerist lawyer, is living  on the Upper East Side, with her fiance  David, a hedge fund something.  One night,  Dannie has a  dream, where it is the year 2025, and she is with a different man in  a different apartment and borough--the last being Brooklyn.  Hurray!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                               Right away, the reader knows that Fate is going to move Dannie forward in this direction.  This is no surprise.  But the way it is done is so contrived, and resorting to a terminal illness is something only geniuses like Charles Dickens and Victor Hugo could pull off, and, darlings, I am convinced, Miss Serle has not heard of either.   Strictly an "ELLE" reader, I am sure.

                                                                 Amazing I even want to read her earlier work, "The Dinner List."  But,  hey, I am willing to give her another chance!

                                                                  But skip this crap, girls!

                                                                  Your coffee will go cold before the first fifty pages!!!!!!!!!!

                                                                    I hope my having  finished it does not make me some kind of masochist!!!!!!!!!!! 

                                                                    That is all I need!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!                                                                

Why The Hell Didn't They Get Allison Case???????????????

                                  Four nights ago, on October 27, that most haggard of Theater Queens, Seth Rudetsky,  gathered together the cast of the 2004 Actors Fund Concert Version Of "HAIR," for a reunion virtual performance.  Now, I tried getting tickets, back in 2004, but was, of course, shut out, due to its costing some $300.

                                   A cast recording was released, and I was horrified, to  discover, upon hearing it, that Annie Golden,  then in her fifties, was given the honor of singing my favorite "HAIR" song, "Frank Mills."  I heard Annie in interview, and even she questioned the idea of an older woman singing a song that should be sung by a young girl.

                                 Annie's version was forgettable.  She could not exude the innocence and vulnerability needed to perform the song.  "Frank Mills," short as it is, is a complicated and demanding song to sing, as it requires so much of the performer, and few have been able to match Shelley Plimpton in  the  Off Broadway and Broadway original.

                                   But Allison Case, back in 2009, did the best,  and most correct version I have heard, next to Shelley.  And, oh,  of course,  yours truly, who has been doing it on September 12, in front of the Waverly, since 1978.

                                    So, Seth,  why not get Allison, Shelley,  or myself?  If you are going to do "HAIR" right,  the right Crissy is needed to sing this song everyone loves.

                                     Which proves how dumb you actually are, Seth!

                                       Get a face lift!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                         To prove it, here is Allison performing the song.  Listen, and learn!!!!!!!!!!!!

High Time I Read This!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                               Now, darlings, I know it is fashionable, in some circles, to call Gore Vidal "BORE Vidal," but,  honestly, I cannot find a thing wrong with his fiction.  Sure, "Myra Breckinridge" was overrated, but some of his historical fiction is brilliant.

                                                 So, I thought it was time I read "The City And The Pillar," which I used to think was Vidal's first  novel, (it wasn't; that belongs to a WWII novel called "Williwaw") but purportedly the first where a known novelist took on the subject of homosexuality.  Interesting that both this and Truman Capote's "Other Voices, Other Rooms" were both published in January of 1948.  Guess Gore felt he had to be first.  But I have news for him--Truman wrote the better book.

                                                "The City And The Pillar" has to be read within  the context of when it was written.  Otherwise, it would seem dated and predictable.  But in 1948, this must have caused raised eyebrows across America; I can tell you, this book was not in my parents' house.

                                                   The two main characters are Jim Willard and Bob Ford, who have been  schoolmates in the same small town, and are about to graduate out into the world.  Jim has romantic  feelings  for Bob, for whom he pines, and those feelings are blatantly sexual.  They even,  right after graduation, have an encounter, a la "Brokeback Mountain" in a private, abandoned slave cabin in the woods; the small town is in Virginia.  This was fine with me.  What was hard to for me to swallow that Vidal could, as he lived during this period, is that Jim bases a lot of his decisions--like shipping out to sea--because he is pining and searching for Bob.  Bob,  meanwhile, is just leading his own life.  Jim ends up on the gay side of Hollywood as some sort of glorified call boy to a closeted film actor named Ronald Shaw,  (fill in here Scotty Bowers and Walter Pidgeon) unaware that he (Jim) is just kidding himself.  And he is  still pining for Bob.  When he returns to his Virginia town, Jim finds Bob has settled into his wife's father's insurance business, married to Sally, who used to be the town's tramp, but is now a domestic goddess. He accepts this, but, a year later,  during a meeting in New York,  minus Sally,  Jim and Bob have a confrontation,  when Jim advances on him in a hotel room, and Bob fights back, rejecting him, calling Jim "queer," insisting he is not gay.  Remember, this was according to beliefs in 1948.  What I find even more interesting is the climax.  In the original manuscript, Jim murdered Bob. Where would that have left poor Sally?  In the revised version, now out and which I read, Jim humiliates Bob by raping him.  Now, Bob has to live with that, and what will he tell Sally?  I actually think this is a better climax.

                                                     But the ending leaves Bob alone, by the docks, with the option of suicide, looking for action, or living a life of loneliness.  These were the options in 1948; what is sad is Vidal held out no hope for change, or could not see it.  But, then, for all his brazenness, I thought he was a bit of a closet case, himself.

                                                       "The City And The Pillar" deserves to be read.   But as a benchmark,  not a manifesto.

                                                           We have come too far, darlings,  for that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How About Colin And Scarlett?????????????????????

                                                Honestly, girls,  you could have knocked me over with a feather!!!!!!!!!  Readers have been asking  how much I know about the wedding plans, or whether  or not there would even be a wedding.  I had  my doubts.  And I will get into those later.

                                                 Colin and Scarlett were married, last weekend (meaning October 24th-October 25th) on a private boat, with loved ones and family in attendance!  Hey, how come I wasn't invited?  Oh, I know why.  Because Scarlett is afraid I would make a play for Colin Jost.  Unfortunately, for now, girls, that delicious scoop of vanilla ice cream is off the market.

                                                  But I  wouldn't worry too much about that, darlings.  Besides, Scarlett's track record is not that great.  She was first married to actor Ryan  Reynolds from  2008 to 2011; a mere three years.  And then another three years--2014 to 2017--to Romain Dauriac, by whom she has a daughter.  So, looking at this, I see the two splitting in 2023, whereupon, girls, Colin will be back on the market, and maybe willing to try a new direction.  Which is what I thought was taking the marriage so long.

                                                   Now,  I have to wonder--is Scarlett knocked up????????????

                                                   Only time will tell, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                    Damn!   I  should have been at that wedding!  All  the  Covid cautions were in place, so how could I have even laid a hand on Colin????????????????

                                                     And they donated money to their favorite charity, Meals On Wheels.  Isn't that just sweet?????????????????????????

                                                      Don't expect Scarlett to putter around in the  kitchen!  Colin  will just have to relay on takeout for his SNL writing sessions.  This girl has never boiled water in her life.

                                    Like Nancy Lane, as Bebe Benzenheimer, in "A Chorus Line" says,

                                      "Different is nice,  but it sure isn't pretty.  Pretty is what it's about!"

                                                 

Don't Be Afraid To Read It!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                           As a child,  I read all the "animal books--"  "Black Beauty," "Old Yeller," "Beautiful Joe,", and,  oh my God, "The Yearling."  I could never go back to these because, to revise St. Teresa Of Avila's "unanswered prayers" quote, "More tears are shed over these books, than any others."

                                              So, when an associate whose opinion I respect, pushed "The Friend" into my hands, I took it reluctantly, planning to read it at some point in time, but not right now, what with all that was going on.  Then, on a day when I had an unexpected encounter with my canine friend, Cujo, who made me feel so good, I felt this was the time to read it.

                                               While  the following may sound depressing, as it turns out, it really is not.  A woman writer loses a friend and mentor to suicide.  There are meditations on that.  In the sorting out of things, she is left Apollo, an elderly Great Dane, whom she takes on reluctantly.  The woman is the prototypical lonely New York literary spinster--hey,  this could have been me, darlings, twenty years ago--and, as you may guess, she and Apollo bond.

                                                   The evolution of their relationship, the devotion and loyalty each has to the other, are the book's hallmarks, and will lift your spirits.  And, no, I am not spoiling things when I say Apollo does not die, at the end.  I was bracing for that, myself.   Instead, the end offers hope of togetherness forever--something  always needed, but especially in these times.

                                                    I came away from "The Friend" with hope and inspiration.  I urge all to read it.  And I applaud  Nunez for handling a subject that could turn maudlin and tearful, but avoids all those traps.

                                                    So impressed was I by "The Friend," I may read her latest book,  "What Are You Going Through?" Indeed!

                                                    What higher recommendation can be given?

                                                  

Darlings, I Want A Croque-Monsieur!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                      Girls,  with Covid, we certainly cannot travel, but I am telling you, instead  of flying to Paris, we can bring it to our humble domiciles.  And one way is to make a Croque-Monsieur, which, for all purposes, looks liked a grilled cheese and ham sandwich, only I think it is made with a special kind of bread, and a French cheese, like, for instance, Brie.  No Laughing Cow, here!

                                        This,  with a glass of red wine to sip along, and before we know it, we can feel as if we are in Paris, sitting tableside in the Parc Marceau!  Doesn't that sound luscious, dolls?

                                        My problem is I don't know the exact ingredients, but someone out there must, so feel  free to post them  in  the "Comments" section.  As for making it, well David is the cuisinier  in this house.  For ten years, I have promised to make Julia Child's "Beef Bourginion," which I want to, but I know the kitchen would be a mess, afterwards, and David would have a fit.  Or, during the cooking, he would be constantly stepping in.

                                         So send us---David and I--what you think is the best Croque-Monsieur recipe out there.  And no Croque-Madame.

                                         That whole "Carol" thing with creamed spinach and poached eggs is SO outdated!

                                          Absolutely NO poached eggs on MY Croque-Monsieur!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

 

Shari Lapena Is NOT Shari Lewis--And That Is A Good Thing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                             As one who is old enough  to have grown up with  Shari Lewis--not to mention  Hush Puppy, and my personal favorite--Lamb  Chop--I am certainly not out  to disparage her.  For those not old enough, Shari Lewis was a famous children's puppeteer.   My  point is,  had Shari Lapena tried to  emulate her,  it would have been a very dark vision  of Lamb Chop, whom, I maintain, is America's First Feminist!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                               I can  never forget this  brilliant exchange  between them:

                                              " Lamb Chop:  What do you think I am, an Arnold  Benedict?

                                               Shari:  That's Benedict Arnold!

                                               Lamb Chop:  Well, he  was even  worse!"

                                               See?  Lamb  Chop was  one smart cookie, and she taught me  history.  I had never  heard of Benedict Arnold before,  but immediately went  to find out who he was.

                                                Lamb Chop had her own  schtick,  and so does Shari Lapena.  As one  reviewer  dubbed,  it  is "suburban paranoia," and there is an abundance of that in "Someone We Know."

                                                Now,  I know,  I know--never do two thrillers back to back.  Ordinarily, I would not, nor would I advise my readers to do so.  But, remember, girls,  I had  just come  out  of the hospital, following my heart ablation procedure, so I needed to escape.  So I read Ware and Lapena back to back.

                                                "Someone  We Know" could be considered a darker take on Rod Serling's classic "Twilight Zone" episode "The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street."  A young  married couple, Michael and Amanda Pierce, move to  a quiet suburban street in  Aylesworth,  New York, which is upstate.  Picture Bedford in "Fatal Attraction," and you have the idea.  The Pierces may seem like a nice couple, but  they are,  to this story,  what the Kellersons were to the 1949 film, "The Window."  Amanda is  quite the town tramp,  and when  she goes missing, everyone  sympathizes with Michael, whom  the neighbors feel has been dumped by  his wife.  That is, until a car is  unearthed from a nearby lake,  with Amanda's body  in it!  Shades of  Susan Smith!  And blunt force trauma.  Now,  not only Michael, but every  man in the book  is suspect, as each seems to have had a go at Amanda.

                                                    Meanwhile, someone is  breaking into neighbors' houses; not to steal anything, just to look around, and for the  thrill of not getting caught.   I thought of Bobby's  monologue in "A Chorus Line."

                                                     With all that is going  on  within  this neighborhood,  property  values are sure to drop!  Darlings, who would want to move  here?  The identity  of the housebreaker surprised me,  but not  that of the killer.  But then there is always the Lapena twist....and  it is a stunner.

                                                       Shari Lapena may be  less literary than Ruth Ware, but hers  was the better book.  Rumors  have  been  abounding  about  a sequel to this one,  and I could see it.  I would love  to see how LaPena  plays with this.  And,  if dramatized, how it would be cast.

                                                        So  now,  darlings,  I have read all of Shari Lapena's books. All I can see is--keep writing, Shari, I want more!

                                                         I bet even  Lamb Chop is reading these books!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, Ruthie, You Can Do So Much Better!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                              Having read several of Ruth Ware's books, I can attest to  the  skill  of her writing, and  to deserved comparisons  to Agatha Christie.   Here,  she goes  a little  too far--so far  that  Miss  Christie  must be turning  over  in  her grave!

                                                  Ware is  not the fist author to imitate  Christie,  and she will  not be the last.  But seldom  has  so high profiled an  author stooped  so low.  My guess is she was writing this to  fulfill  some contractual obligation, and churned it out.  From  its title,  suggesting victims picked off "One By One," to a group of people in an  isolated Alpine chalet,  where the reader just knows an avalanche is looming--just  look  at the cover!!!!!!!!!--the novel  is  vintage Christie.

                                                      On the plus side,  Ware brings  things up to date with references  to technology, and most  assembled  being  a start up group called Snoop,  there for a weekend conference.  Her characters are interesting, as is the subtle way she finds of working  their back  stories  into the plot.

                                                         But it also makes it almost  too easy to  figure  out who the killer is.  I had made up my  mind,  at  least  by the halfway  point, and  it  turns  out I was right.  Come on, Ruthie!  I expected more  from  you!

                                                          If one is starting to read Ruth Ware, and this is  your starting point,  it  is  not  a  bad  one.   It  is  just  not  up  to her  usual  standards.

                                                             Still, the  book was  useful  in  one  factor of my decision making process.  I have  never  been skiing,  and  now,  I  am  not  about to start!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                               Happy reading, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, I SO Want To Wear This Outfit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                           The hair, not so much, because I am still growing mine out,  waiting  to see what Sally Hershberger can do for me.  But, girls,  I am telling you, not  since the days of the late, great.  Diana Vreeland, have I seen such a plethora of red!  This ensemble would look spectacular on  me!!!!!!!!!

                                             By the way, the wearer in the picture is actress  Amanda  Plummer, one of our best  American actresses.  Apparently, she wears this in the miniseries "Ratched," which I have not yet  seen, yet I have heard,  remarkably, she does not play a mental patient.

                                               That's just  it with Amanda.  Mental  patient or  not,  the difference cannot be  told.  Nor is it  distinct when Amanda Plummer  is acting,  and when  she is not.  No matter what she does,  or how brilliant she  does it,  Amanda always seems to be playing....Amanda!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                               And I just love  it!

                                               Let  me  put it  this way.   If the pandemic was over,  and  I was eating  in a restaurant,  and spotted Amanda Plummer at a nearby table, I  would brace myself.  Because I  would, at any second,  expect her  to stand up on  her table,  and  start reciting her classic  opening monologue from  "Pulp  Fiction."

                                                 But, really, I have my eyes on that outfit!

                                                 What an entrance I could make, wearing it!  And  with my Sally Hershberger hair style!

                                                    The  problem, today, is, where  would  I  make  this entrance??????????

Girls, If "Black Narcissus" Has To Be Remade, Why Not As A Broadway Musical, Or Opera????????????????????????

                                      Let's face it,  hons,  with  Kathleen Byron's brilliant descent into sexual depravity from  a repressed nun, the casting of Deborah  Kerr,  Jean Simmons, and Sabu. and  the production values put out by Michael Powell and  Emeric Pressburger, 1947's "Black Narcissus" is not only hard to top,  but in  less professional hands would have degenerated into camp!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                       So, why a 2020 miniseries remake?  With Diana Rigg?  And with some nobody named Aisling  Franciosi, in  the coveted role of Sister Ruth, the holy nymphomaniac everyone wants to play, including myself, there is no  point--unless turned  into a Broadway musical or opera.  A show stopping aria for Sister Ruth's conversion from divinity to depravity would be a coveted role  that I would love to play, and any actor cast would certainly earn  a TONY Award for their work.   Kathleen Byron,  from the 1947 original, received an Oscar nomination.  I mean, there was nothing like this before.

                                        And  it follows in  the musical tradition  of "Soeur Angelica" and "Dialogue Of The Carmelites," with over the top musical religiosity.  And recreating Sister Ruth's fall  on stage would be creative fun.  I mean, if "Tosca" can do it,  why not Sister Ruth????????????

                                           This miniseries  will not make  it.  But a musical or opera would.

                                            Think about it, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                         

                                             I have GOT to be seen for the musicalized  role of Sister Ruth!

                                            I just love that crazy bitch!  Especially when she goes over the cliff!

                                            Thhhhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeere Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhe   Gooooooooooooooooessssssssssss!

                                             Someone should have told her nuns were not destined to fly,  until Sally Field!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I Think This Could Be A Contender!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                         I would have finished David Mitchell's "Utopia Avenue" sooner, had it not  been for my procedure, last week.   That said, let me say I found it more satisfying than his previous, shorter book, "Slade House," which a dark,  Victorian combo of Dickens and Lewis Carroll.  I should have loved it to pieces, but I did not.  Mitchell is one  of those writers,  whom,  I am convinced, paints better on a larger canvass,  and "Utopia Avenue" proves me right; at 574 pages, it whizzes by like a whirlwind, catching  the reader its grasp.

                                          The  novel  refers to an  English band during the Sixties--a classic time  for pop music,  which I should know, having grown up in.  Its members are Dean Moss,  bassist, who hails from Gravesend;  Jasper de Zoet, a lead guitarist, and the scion of a wealthy,  prominent, Netherlands family: Peter "Griff" Griffin, the group's jazz drummer, from Yorkshire; lastly, but hardly least, Elf  Holloway, the soul female, keyboardist, and lead singer.  She was part of an earlier folk act, with her prick  of an ex-husband,  Bruce, who,  of course, once this group starts climbing, wants to hitch his wagon to theirs.  No dice.

                                          Each member is given a compelling  back  story, as is the group's manager, Levon.  But  the  glory of  this book,  especially for Sixties raised baby boomers,  such as I, is the outpouring of  references of  period artists--Joni Mitchell, Joan Baez, Mama  Cass, Jimi Hendrix,  Janis Joplin, Cream,  to name a few.  And, of  course, The Beatles.

                                           The concept  is brilliant; the narrative is structured like a conceptual multi-disc album,  and each chapter is a  music track.  Within this framework, the band's  rise, and fall,  is chronicled, and the  resolution is as neatly wrapped as any I have read lately.    But Mitchell loves to  play head games, with references to other works and characters of  his own.  Jasper de Zoet, for example, is a descendant of Jacob de Zoet, the title character from Mitchell's 2010 novel, "The Thousand Autumns  Of Jacob  De Zoet," which I was not crazy about, at the time, and  am  now  contemplating reading again.  And references abound to my two favorite Mitchell  books,  "Cloud Atlas,"  and "The Bone  Clocks."

                                            Darlings,  this could very well end up on my Best List.   It  will be coming out sooner,  than later.  Meanwhile,  for those who love top flight literary fiction, I cannot recommend anything  out there better than  Mitchell's current  work.

                                             The  hours will fly like minutes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Girls, You Have GOT To Meet Erica Voss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                          She is definitely from the Alex Forrest School  Of Psychosis,  but with a difference.   By the time the reader finishes La Pena's excellent  novel,  questions  will be asked abut the motives of everyone in this book, the ambiguity of the novel's title, and the culprit behind a climactic murder.

                                             That is all I am willing to reveal.  The story starts with a suburban, upstate New York couple, Stephanie and Patrick Kilgour,  who,  having  recently had twin girls, seem  like the perfect couple.  Well, you know,  when  things seem to good to be true, it is because they are.  

                                              For starters, it seems Patrick was married to a woman  named Lindsey, about a decade ago.   She never survived a car accident, where snow blocked a tube into which it had been inserted, and she died by carbon  monoxide poisoning.  This was while leaving to visit her relations for a holiday.  

                                                Lindsey had a good  friend,  Erica Voss,  who always suspected Patrick killed  Lindsey, and  has never let  him  off  the hook.  She disses him at the funeral, but, a decade later, when Patrick has moved on,  Erica returns into his life to  wreak havoc.

                                                 As I said, she is akin to Alex Forrest.  But in "Fatal  Attraction," it  was never suggested Alex had done  what she did before.  Erica  has gotten around.  She was a surrogate mother, who bribed a couple whose child she was carrying, and she went after a former coworker for money, before turning her attention  to the Kilgour's, the prime focus of  the book.  You have to hand it to Erica  for psychotic bitchery.  Alex Forrest never got around,  like  this.

                                                   There are surprises galore, including Lindsey's death, or, rather,  who engineered it, after I was so convinced of my conclusion.  And the last page delivers a stunner that satisfies,  brings the title's meaning into  question, and  raises even more.  I  kept  thinking  things over, at the end,  and I still am not  sure.

                                                     But, girls, as hateful as Erica is, you will just  LOVE her!  If Rebecca De Mornay were decades younger, it  would be a perfect role  for her.  I mean,  who wouldn't want to play Erica????????????

                                                      Shari La Pena  has done  it again.  Though I questioned the title at the start, I realized, at the finish, how brilliant it was!

                                                         Way to go, Shari!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy Birthday, To Sister Camille!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                           Well, girls, the secret is out, and Sister Camille herself revealed it.  On this morning's broadcast, she said she celebrated her birthday, yesterday, which was October 17.  She  did not reveal how old she was, so I will not,  either.   But  it is interesting that her birthday falls just two days before my mother, who is October 19, and my friends Angela and Margaret,  who were born, respectively, on the 20th and 21st.

                                              So, a Happy Birthday to you, Sister Camille, and many more!  Hope you found a stylish and fun way to celebrate in the wake of this pandemic.  I face that challenge next month, when my birthday rolls around.

                                                May the blessings you bring us each Sunday come back to you, through the year, triple fold!

                                                 We love you, Sister Camille!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"I've Had It Rough, Before! I'm A Barracuda!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

                                      I guess I really am , girls, because I came through the heart ablation  procedure, with  flying colors.  So I am told.

                                       But it was surreal.  David and I actually walking into the hospital  at NYU at 5:30 in  the morning, like  Garland or Crawford reporting for work at Metro.   Then, in the procedure area, I was treated as if at a casting call, when  a  man named Phil  called  out  names,  and had us line  up.   What was this, an audition?  "A Chorus Line?"  I  mean, my role was operation  patient.  I already had the part.

                                        I was settled  into  a curtained cubicle, with David  following. I had  to undress, get in a gown,  and onto a stretcher.  The  guy named Phil, actually shaved me--down there!!!!!!!, my first  time  ever!--but would you believe he did NOT give me a wax job?  I thought that was standing procedure in shavings.  I was given a hair  net to wear,  to keep my hair beautiful, so that, at least I  did not look like  the  guy who is the Operation game  board.  By the way,  I am still waiting for someone to send  me a dozen  roses, and a gift  card to Sally Hershberger!

                                            The table  I  laid  on was warm,  the  room  cool, which helped put me  in a relaxed state, which I needed, because there was a lot of prep, things I had  to  be hooked up to, before  I was put under.  Mentally, I was screaming,  "Put  me  under, already!"  Then, when  I  felt I was starting  to have some  sort of dream, I saw Linda, my main nurse, and asked her when we would start.  She said, "We are all done!"  Wow!  My  physician, Doctor Anthony Aizer, said I did  very well.  I was wheeled back  to the cubicle, and there was my beloved David!!!!!!!!!!!!  My throat felt ragged, as a tube was down  it, so it may be awhile before I start singing "Frank Mills."  I also,  understandably felt weak, because I had been through something.  I  had  lay still  for  about two hours, which,  considering how I felt, turned  out  to be easier  than I thought.  Finally, I was walked around, and allowed to walk  around, and finally urinate, which I did a lot that day, October 15, as they were  putting fluids in me during the procedure,  so  I  would not dehydrate.   I am happy to report that, as of this morning, October 17, my urination  is  normal, for me, and  I had a bowel movement!  These are the kinds of things I worry about obsessively.

                                              Coming down from the anaesthesia cost me a day of reading, but yesterday, I went back to that, with flying colors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                             As I said elsewhere, the  15th was the  Feast Day Of  St. Teresa Of  Avila, aka "The Little Flower Of Jesus."  I felt she,  Bernadette, Jacinta, Chloe, and all my animal friends were in that room with me, watching over  me.  And, as a special surprise, David revealed,  afterwards, that our  beloved Baby  Gojira, complete  with his nurse's outfit, had come along, in  my Diane Von Furstenberg reticule  bag!  He insisted, and I am  sure he saw things were followed to the max.   Our  little stuffed pet loves to micro-manage!

                                               Aside from those already mentioned,  I want  to thank Dr. Aizer, again, as well as nurses  Linda and Stephanie, nurse practitioner Chris,  and everyone on the NYU team who  were so nice and helpful, and  without whose brilliance and temperaments I  could never hade made  it  through.

                                               As  to you, Phil,  I will never forget my first shave!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                               I AM  a barracuda, so watch out,  girls!

                                              Like Scarlett, who was as Irish as  I am, we survive!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  

Support Your Local Bookstore, Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                     This is Greenlight Bookstore, in Brooklyn, not that far from BAM, which is where I always go, when I am in that area.  It is beautifully laid out,  great selections, the staff is friendly, and it is owned by Jessica, whom  I knew, back when she worked at Three Lives, in the Village.  It was always her dream  to open her own bookstore, and this is it.

                                        Bookstores are problematic in any  time  period,  but  especially during a pandemic.  Let's face it, as the quality of technology has increased in our society, so has the quality of literacy decreased. People say they have no time for reading, but there is always an hour after dinner, standing  in line  for a movie, when such a thing was possible,  waiting in a doctor's office, now the most popular social activity  of the day.  And bookstores.

                                          Those of us who read,  are a rare breed. But  we are out  there, and we  need local bookstores,  to give us  the high of  being in  one, the sight of  all  those volumes, and our immediate  gratification  in  picking  out  our own  selections, and walking  out  with them, so that, if we  wish,  we can  begin reading  as soon as we get on the subway train.

                                            Amazon is all right,  in a pinch!  But  all  that waiting--to hell  with it!

                                            Books have kept me sane. If the stores go under, I may end up in  the nut house,  hooked on  dolls, like Neely!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            "I am NOT nuts!  I am just hooked on dolls!"

                                             Save me, darlings!  Support your  local bookstore!

Has Amy Coney Barrett Even Seen "The Song Of Bernadette????????????"

                                    I mean, what kind of a person has, for a middle name, the first half an amusement park--Coney Island?  You have to wonder about that one, dolls!  Maybe some  kind of family name, or something?

                                     And she has the nerve to call herself a Catholic!  Not that I am a saint, or anything--far from  it!   But, has she seen "The Song Of Bernadette?"  One cannot call themselves a Catholic, not having seen it, and, you know me, I think every American Catholic should be required to see it.

                                     This question needs to be asked of Amy before any of the others!

                                     Just who does she think she is, anyway?????????????????????

Tomorrow Is The Feast Day Of Saint Teresa Of Avila, Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                       When I was scheduled for my heart ablation procedure, ten days before, and we settled on October 15, something about the day's importance registered in my head.  Imagine my surprise and joy to discover it is the Feast Day Of Saint Teresa Of Avila, otherwise known as the "Little Flower Of Jesus."

                                        How fortuitous.  But wait, it gets better.  Because I may not be a hagiographer, but I discovered she suffered from epilepsy, as do I, though treated for decades.  She is also patron of sickness, and those who question religious authority.  Sounds like my kind of gal/saint!

                                          So, help me, Saint Teresa, get through this experience, which, while I am doing it for myself, I am also doing it for David, and everyone I hold near and dear, human or animal.

                                            I am even thinking forward, planning a post procedure posting on here.

                                            Till then, girls, keep me in your thoughts.

                                             Go, Saint Teresa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Have A "Karen" Halloween, Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                     Come on, dolls! You knew this was inevitable.  With the "Karen" (meaning all those behavioral "Karens," not the ones named such) as the unofficial Bitch Of The Year, it should be no surprise to anyone, lest of all myself, that a "Karen" Halloween mask would arrive!

                                         For one day, October 31, nice people can release their Inner Bitch!  And isn't she scary, loves?  I am telling you, she makes Mrs. Voorhees from "Friday The 13th" look like a glamour queen!!!!!!!!!!!  Those who have always wondered what it might be like to be a "Karen," or to get into that mindset, now have a chance!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            But wait!  The "Karen" impersonation would  not be complete without a "Karen" t-shirt, and this one, darlings, is just perfect!  It will complete your Halloween ensemble!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                             Happy Halloween, all you "Karens!!!!!!!!"

                                              But be prepared to hear, along the way--

                                               "Bitch, shut the fuck up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Time To Welcome A New Reader!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            I see by the follower indicator that I am at113 followers, so I want to bid our new reader, whose name I do not know, a warm and gracious welcome.  I am glad you found your way here, and hope you find things here informative, and entertaining.  Remember, this blog goes great with coffee.  A cup is never far from me, when I am writing.

                                             Please feel free to comment here anytime; I answer all.  Would love to know how you found your way here.

                                             So, a big welcome, everyone, to our newest reader.

                                             As always, initiation comes with the blog's unofficial theme song.

                                         Here is Deborah Harry, singing "Call Me!"

                                         Welcome, and enjoy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                 

How Many Crossroads Do I Have To Make??????????? Because I Want To Cross Several More!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                          When I was in fifth grade, during the 1965-66 school year, I loved the "Doctor Dolittle" books, by Hugh Lofting.  There happened to be a collection of them in my classroom library, and I devoured every one.  The only one I never got to read was "Doctor Dolittle In The Moon," which intrigued me because of the title, and Lofting's use of the preposition "in," rather than "on."

                                            In 1967, Twentieth Century-Fox released what turned out to be a disastrous movie adaptation of the Lofting stories, under the title "Doctor Dolittle," featuring a miscast Rex Harrison.  It was actually nominated for Best Picture Of 1967, losing out to "In The Heat Of The Night," alongside "Bonnie And Clyde" and "The Graduate."  Can you imagine?

                                              I still have never gotten round to seeing the movie "Doctor Dolittle."  But I did own the soundtrack album at the time, and the Leslie Bricusse  score was not that bad.  After all, "Talk To The Animals" took home the Best Song Oscar that year.  But the song that haunted me, then, and haunts me now, is a song called "At The Crossroads," sung by Samantha Eggar early in the film, judging by the album tracks.  She was dubbed by some obscure singer named Diane Lee.  

                                            Here is a portion of how it goes--

                                            "Here I stand, at the crossroads of life.

                                              Childhood behind me, the future to come.

                                              All alone.

                                              Nothing planned, at the crossroads of life,

                                              But life may find me more grateful than some.

                                              Grateful to have seen, all the wonderful things I've seen............"

                                              That last line is most telling, girls, for, I too, feel the same way.  And though I plan to go into this procedure with the determination of Vivien Leigh as Scarlett O'Hara, and survive, I think of what I am grateful for--

                                                1. My beloved, David.

                                                2. My parents, grandparents, sister, and her children.

                                                3. My mother living long enough to see me graduate from college.

                                                4. All the friends, human and animal, in my life.

                                                5. The movie, "The Wizard Of Oz."

                                                6.  Ditto "Gone With The Wind," "The Song Of Bernadette," "The Sound 

                                                       Of Music," "Doctor Zhivago," and "Nashville."

                                                 7.  Thanks to authors Harper Lee, Truman Capote, Carson McCullers,

                                                        and countless others, for guiding and inspiring me.

                                                 8.  For having the privilege of having seen the Original Casts Of "A

                                                      Chorus Line," and "Runaways."  Special thanks to Donna McKechnie 

                                                      and Trini Alvarado.

                                                  9. Shelley Plimpton, for introducing "Frank Mills."

                                               10.  Last, and always, Baby Mouse, who got me through adolescence!

                                                 I will return, girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I promise!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                          With gratitude to all!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!