"Men Flock Around Me, Like Moths Round A Flame/ And If Their Wings Burn, I Know I'm Not To Blame!!!!!!!!"

                                Darlings, I am telling you, when Monsieur and I, on Sunday, were leisurely listening to Marlene Dietrich singing her signature song, "Falling In Love Again," I threw back my head, and laughed.  Because, back when I was young and full of possibility, I nurtured cabaret fantasies; not that I would drive repressed men to insanity, like Marlene, but at leas I would have an audience!  One time, during the Summer, on our front porch--this had to be the 70's, I was in my teens--I threw my legs around one of the porch arm chairs, threw back my arm, arched my body, and began to sing the song. When, suddenly, before I could react, the entire chair toppled over, and my legs were all tangled up in the chair!  It took me a bit to disengage myself, and get up from the floor.

                                  But you have to admit, girls, there is a campy aspect to this song. I think young gay things, (well, male things!!!!!!!!) before they realize that Party Time comes with a curfew called Age, think of themselves as Lola; men just flocking around them, and if heartbreak happens, who cares they just go on to the next, as if this merry chase will go on forever!!!!!!!!!!!!  Well, honeys, it doesn't, and, if you haven't, I suggest you watch "The Blue Angel" to see, in extreme, the consequences of such deluded thinking.  It has one of the most heartbreaking endings in film that I can recall.

                                   Of course, if you are still young and carefree, you will not believe me.  But, as the Professor tried to tell Holden Caulfield--"You will. One day you will."

                                     Vot am I to do, dolls????????  I cahn't help eeet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, That Donna!!!!!!!!!!! What A Tartt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                              I can really not recall, girls, why I ordered "The Secret History," from Book Of The Month Club, when I belonged to it, back in the early 90's, when this novel first came out.  As some of you may know, from 1992, when first published, it established its author, Donna Tartt, (whose debut effort this was) as the Literary Darling Of The Day. I don't know if it was that, or something I read in the catalog's blurb about the book, but when I got the austere looking volume, with its Greek statue and transparent book jacket covering--innovative for its time--I was immediately intrigued.

                                               As soon as I began my initial reading, I instantly knew it was "one of those"--something I would keep, cherish and reread. I am not alone in saying it is one of my favorite books, and when the years went by, and no further outpouring from Donna Tartt came forth, I resigned that she would fall into that select pantheon of one-book authors--like Margaret Mitchell and Harper Lee--who produced a single work, but a singular one for the ages.  That record was marred by Tartt's second novel, "The Little Friend," the most anticipated book of its year.  Though I read it (twice, in fact!) it cannot hold a candle to her earlier book, and I am firmly convinced that whatever she goes on to write, as well as it may be,  will never surpass her first, her Magnum Opus.  And on the heels of my reading comes news that Donna Tartt, in October, will have a third novel published, entitled "The Goldfinch."  Perhaps the most anticipated work of fiction for THIS year, almost eleven years to the day since "The Little Friend."

                                                Earlier this year, I read "The Likeness," by Tana French.  One reviewer compared it to both Donna Tartt and Wilkie Collins.  The Tartt connection I instantly grasped; the Collins is there, but debatable.  Nevertheless, reading this book inspired me to read not only Tartt's first, signature work, again, but also "Villette" by Charlotte Bronte, which I have just begun.  In "The Likeness," one of the student characters is doing her thesis on Charlotte Bronte, so there are often references to both "Villette" and "Jane Eyre."  The last I have read more than I can say (but not equal to the nine times I have read "Wuthering Heights"), but I paused, and thought, maybe it is time for a rereading of "Villette."

                                                  But right now, darlings, I am discussing "The Secret History."  I believe this was my third reading of it, and, if Time is good to me, sooner or later, there will be a fourth.  Now, having become so familiar with such a work, I must discuss it intimately, so I will caution my girls out there who have NOT yet read it to stop reading this blog post NOW, as I may be referencing details within that would, for the unread, destroy the element of surprise.

                                                     "The Secret History" is the confessional reminiscence of Richard Papen, now 28, looking back at the time he was a student at Vermont's Hampden College, (a stand-in for Vermont's real life Bennington, which Tartt attended, graduated from, and where she began writing this novel, which took her eight years to complete!!!!!) and the experiences he fell into there, leading to his dissolution.

                                                         The selection of Richard as a narrator is an interesting one. He is something of an outsider; he comes from Plano, California, a working class community, he longs to escape from.  He also longs to escape from his working class origins.  I can relate to this, wanting, first to escape from Irving School, when I was in Highland Park, because it was known as the school where the "children of the blue collar workers" went, hence, not as good, academically.  And, of course, that, and not being Jewish, kept me from social acceptance by the Roberta Group, and exclusion from things like Algebra in the eighth grade, membership in the National Honor Society in high school, as well as taking Advanced Placement English.  Let me say, before I get too autobiographical, that I realize part of this was my fault; had I the capacity back then, as I do now, to speak on my own behalf, I most certainly would have, and perhaps that chapter of my life would have been different.  Maybe not.   So there is a point to where I can relate to  Richard.

                                                            Once settled at Hampden, he encounters what today would almost be called a Goth clique--a group quintet of five students, isolated from the rest of the populace by their being enrolled in some sort of Advanced Classics program, where they study with only one instructor, Julian Morrow.  Richard immediately wants "in"--again, I can relate--and he does gain entry, though, in retrospect, it turns out it may have been better had he not been accepted.

                                                               The five students are ringleader Henry Winter, twin siblings Charles and Camilla Macaulay, Francis Abernathy, and Edmund "Bunny Corcoran.  It is this last who is both important and unlikely.  Bunny's family, the Corcorans, are like "The Pruitts Of Southampton"--they act wealthy, but are flat broke, living way beyond their means, being in hock up to their ears.  And they don't care about it. And they have imparted this attitude not only on Bunny, but their other children. Added to which, Bunny is crude, crass, bigoted,  and not the intellectual sort for an Advanced Placement group; how he made it in is never satisfactorily explained--one of the few criticisms I have with Tartt.  But Bunny is important for other reasons (now if you have not stopped reading, yet, then REALLY do so now!!!!!)--he is the classmate murdered by his peers, which is revealed in the opening of the novel.  This novel functions the way that "REDRUM" does on Investigation Discovery today; the novel is not just about the fact that Bunny was murdered, but the set of circumstances leading up to it, and the consequences in its wake.

                                                                 All of which Miss Tartt accomplishes brilliantly, especially when you consider that this group of people--every one of them--are fundamentally despicable. Which made it understandable, on one level, upon this, my third reading, that Bunny would be the victim; though any one of them deserve it, too.  And it is this last idea that makes Tartt's comeuppances--of a sort--both fascinating and dissatisfying.  For none of the perpetrators are charged with the murder, nor do they do any jail time. Instead, Miss Tartt punishes them in other ways, by Life. Henry, out of a combination of selfishness, cowardice, and deluded loyalty, commits suicide; Charles Macaulay becomes a hopeless alcoholic, in and out of rehab, and runs off to the Southwest with another floozy/addict, for a relationship that is sure to be masochistic at best; twin sister Camilla is left an isolated spinster, taking care of their aging grandmother; Francis Abernathy, fundamentally gay, is forced by his grandfather to marry a woman, Priscilla, in order to inherit the sizable fortune Gramps  otherwise will not leave him. I felt more sorry for Priscilla than Francis; she seems genuinely loving, and the reader knows what she is in for--heartache, and possibly divorce, once Grandpa dies, and Francis inherits. Of course, that should leave Priscilla with half, so maybe she will be OK.
And Richard, lastly, becomes a disillusioned academic, happy with no one and nothing.

                                                                  Interesting, but I would rather have seen Justice meted out more deservedly.  But there is no denying the novel's brilliance; it starts with a murder, ends with a supernatural encounter, with references to Classical Mythology, Literature, and the Supernatural.  Miss Tartt threw it all in one pot, and the mixture is still intoxicating. Trouble is, she wrote a novel that is almost too good, one she can never top. But she can try, and those, like me who admire her, will no doubt read "The Goldfinch."

                                                                   But loyalty will remain always to "The Secret History."

From What I Hear, Girls, This Was The Most Gorgeous Offering Of The Current Theater Season!!!!!!!!!

                               No, darlings, I did not get in to see the NY Philharmonic's "Carousel," so, like so many of my girls out there, I will just have to wait, with baited breath, for April 26, when PBS will broadcast it nationally.  There is no other musical like "Carousel," as few shows I know have the ability to simultaneously lift your spirits, and tear you apart emotionally, like this one does.  I can never get through a listening of "If I Loved You," without tearing up, when Billy gets to, "Soon you'd leave me/Off you would go, in the mist of day."  Such brilliant lyric writing, and so heartbreaking!  It is almost too much to stand.  And how about the last part of "When The Children Are Asleep," with Carrie's and Enoch' voices blending from "When today is a long time ago....?" oh, my God!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  And don't even get me started with "You'll Never Walk Alone."  Fortunately, I have never been called upon to sing it, because I know, sure as anything, that once I got to, "At the end of the storm, is a golden sky/And the sweet, silver song of a lark," I would lose it, as I have every time I have sat through a performance of "Carousel," a show that manages to get under my skin, and for which I have a personal relation--I  did my Master's Thesis on the show, back in 1982.

                             Julie Jordan has been described by some as having the soul of a poet.  I would agree, and I think for those whom "Carousel" most keenly works its magic also have poetic souls as well.  Which, by definition is both a blessing and a curse--poetic souls tend to feel things more keenly, so when they feel love it is exulting, but when they experience pain, it is often more crushing than for the average person.

                                 Which is why, much as I adore "Carousel", I don't dare listen to it too often.  From those sinister opening notes, you know that, despite the romance, this is going to be a "dark musical," and that darkness is often highlighted by Rodgers' exquisite music.  So I know that come, April 26, when I watch the Philharmonic "Carousel" with Jesse Mueller as Carrie, and Jason Danieley as the hottest looking Enoch Snow ever to be cast in that role, to say nothing of Kelli 0'Hara's Julie, and Nathan Gunn's Billy, I will experience a simultaneous sense of excitement and terror, but will be too enraptured to turn it off.

                                    "Carousel" is one of those shows (like "Follies," another "dark musical") that stands almost as a litmus test for Theater Queens.  Those who take that ride do so at the risk, like the young Louise Bigelow, of being uncontrollably swept away!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                        Which is why it is such a work of genius!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Darlings, The Family That Slays Together, Stays Together!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                  Girls, I am telling you, the Hatfields and the McCoys have nothing on each other, when it comes to the Kananens of Orlando, Florida.  This was a family that just went from bad to worse. It started with the marriage of Richard Kananen, Sr. and his wife, Marilyn--the perfect recipe for trouble. He at one point had been an ex-con, but had managed to do something job wise enough to collect Social Security. But he was also an alcoholic and an abuser, who vented on his wife, children, neighbors, negihbors' dogs--anything, which, for reasons fathomable only to him, pissed him off.  The children-Richard, Jr, Stacey, and Cheryl (or is it Susan????) --had a nightmare childhood of physical and emotional abuse, added to the fact that their mother, the perfect passive partner for an abuser, offered little in the way of protection for her children.

                                  Richard, Sr., in addition to all this, had a way of periodically walking out on the family, but would always manage to return, to wreak more havoc. That is, until September 15, 1988, when he apparently left, but did not return.  No one in the house was too upset by this, nor were the neighbors living near them. But, as cycles prove, the abused sometime turn into abusers, and that is what happened here.

                                    First, Stacey, age 21, having had it up to here with her father's abuse (which included sexual molestation, when she was a child) took a gun to him, while he was sleeping, and blasted this bastard away.  Then she and her brother and mother covered up the killing by burying the body in a nearby yard.   Meanwhile, Mama Marilyn goes on cashing her husband's Social Security checks, living off these, when she gets word that, upon her own father's death, she will come into something like $315K.  Fifteen years to the day, on September 15, 2003, Marilyn goes missing, but guess what?  She is not missing at all; she was murdered by Stacey and Ricky, then buried beneath the family garage, so they could get the money.  These two kids had every reason to hate their parents, and want the worst for them, but murdering them themselves makes them as despicable as the parents themselves.  Guess the apple does not fall very far from the tree!!!!!!!

                                   Some pair of siblings, huh?  How did the other sister survive this hell, yet manage to keep a set of morals intact????????  You have to wonder.  Poor parenting had a detrimental effect on these children, but who is to say, even with good parents, Ricky and Stacey would not have been bad???????

                                     So, what are they? Psychopaths?  Victims?  Or both?  Whatever the choice, they are certainly no good, and deserve to be locked up, as they have been.  Actually, domestic violence support groups should do well to pay attention to the Kananens' story.  In a family like this, nobody wins!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                       Give me the Bradfords of "Eight Is Enough," any day!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

When You Hear What Was Done To These Two, Darlings, You Will Realize Scum Does Not Come Much Worse!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                These are Liana and Erik Duke, who were both 5 and 22 years of age, when this photo was taken, shortly before their deaths.   They plunged to those in 1996, falling from a height of 200 feet at a cliff side location known as Lost Dog Trail.  At first, the deaths were thought to be a horribly tragic accident. But when the truth came out, it was much worse.

                                                  They were murdered by Family Annihilator James Robert Duke, Liana's husband, and Erik's father!!!!!!!!!!  He pushed them off the cliff to their deaths, simply because he did not want a divorce, and did not want to have to pay child support.

                                                     This sick carpet layer had delusions of grandeur. He and Liana met in a typing class in high school, began dating, and, towards graduation, she became pregnant.  Erik was born, the couple was married, and, as far as Liana was concerned, she was happy.

                                                      Five years later, though, all was not happy.  Robert Duke had nurtured dreams of escaping from Green River, the Wyoming town he lived in, and going to college, though I do not get the impression he was college material, if all he  ended up as after high school was a carpet layer!!!!!!!!
Still, he thought he was better than it all, and it was best to be rid of Liana and Erik.  Not to mention the money he would collect on their deaths.  So, on a warm day in 1996, he took them for a picnic at Lost Dog Trail, and threw them off the cliffs.  A 5-year-old child!!!!!!!!!!!!  What kind of sick evil is this?????????

                                                         I am telling you, even Satan, I think, would be shocked!  But, rest assured, when Duke's time comes, Satan has a nice sizzling place in Hell set aside for him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                           This guy has no remorse or feeling.  Actually, years before, according to his friend, Roger, who testified out of guilt at the secret of knowing Liana and Erik were actually murdered, Duke had asked him to kill, by gunshot, his wife and Erik, at a barbecue they were going to have.
Even though Roger had a history of drug addiction and dealing, he refused.  Even druggies have some ethics!!!!!!  And when he heard about Liana and Erik's eventual deaths, he knew they were not accidental.

                                                             To make matters worse, Duke moved away from Green River to Houston, near his other scumbag brother, Mike.  Apparently, the money from his wife's and son's deaths was not enough for him, so he and Mike tried to talk Roger (again!) into killing their parents!!!!!!!!!!! Nice, huh??????????  Roger, again refused!

                                                               Roger, in fact, helped police nail Duke and bring him to conviction. He is serving six life terms--two for the murders, two for the conspiracy to kill his wife and son, and another two for the conspiracy to murder his parents.  If I were these parents, I would stay far away from Duke and Mike.  Though you have to wonder what type of parents they were to produce such monsters!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                                This scumbag deserves everything he gets, and then some. I am surprised he is still alive, the way inmates look down on child killers, in general. Add to that that Erik was his own child!!!!!!!!!  He better watch his back, because when someone is not looking........well, let's just say I would not be surprised. Or saddened.

                                                                   Just when you think scumbags can't get any worse, along comes someone like James Robert Duke!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                                    Satan is sharpening his pitchfork for you, Bob!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
                                               
                           

No More Applause For Bonnie, Girls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                  I was sad to learn, yesterday, of the death of Bonnie Franklin.  Her passing, at age 69, of pancreatic cancer, (something that has taken two people whom I have known personally) is a blow to TV viewers who will always remember has as Ann Romano on "One Day At A Time," and to Theater Queens who will remember the bit that got her that stardom--the role of show biz gypsy "Bonnie," in the Broadway musical "Applause," in which she sang the well known title tune!!!!!!!

                                     The TV show displayed her comedic skills, rather than her song and dance ones, though I vaguely recall some guest appearances on other shows during this period, to show that she still had it as a hoofer!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                         Her show "daughters," Mackenzie Phillips and Valerie Bertinelli, are, I am sure, as saddened as we all are!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  To think, Bonnie is survived by her mother!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            So, whether you watch some 'One Day' episodes on DVD, or put on the Original Cast Album of "Applause," be sure and remember Bonnie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                            "You've had a taste of/The sound that says love!
                                              Applause!  Applause!  It's your applause!"

                                        Rest In Peace, Bonnie Franklin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Welcome March, Darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                         March is always, for me, a month of hope!  It is the end of the long dreary post-Holiday period that comprises both January and February, a sign that the year is moving on, and the Hope of Spring is coming.  March brings us St. Patrick;s Day, not to mention a rather early Holy Week, capped off by ending on the dot with Easter!!!!!  How can you beat that?

                          It is also the month when now Daylight Savings Time begins, so the days grow longer.  And, on the 21st, Prosperina ends her six month stay in Hell, and comes up to Earth to be with her mother, hence Spring and Summer.  Not to mention March 19, which is St. Joseph's Day, and another portent of Spring--the swallows returning to Capistrano!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                          So, there is much to be excited for in March!  As far as Monsieur and I are concerned, there is much to be excited for ourselves--the March 6 screening of "The Song Of Bernadette" at St. Patrick's Church, a visit to my sister and father, the arrival of the Bloomfield contingent at our place on St. Patrick's Day, capped off by seeing "Cinderella" on Broadway, on Palm Sunday!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                          Yes, girls, it looks like the Winter doldrums are slowly lifting!  So, as March, inversely, arrives like a Lamb (which means it will exit like a Lion; not another Sandy, please!!!!!!!!!) we can be grateful we have all made it through another long Winter Of Our Discontent!!!!!!!!!!!

                            Here's to Easter baskets, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!