Catapulting into summer from a cool wet spring. Ninety degrees today. It’s on. Curtis Strange gave great commentary of the U.S. Open at Shinnecock where the windy course vaulted many stars out of the weekend and made Phippy whippy. In the end, Koepka survived with a back-to-back trophy hoist. Strange enough. The last one to do that was Curtis.
The Affair is back. And. Another show features the Colletti Winery. If you find it, you’ll know. Jump to book-treks. Social Creature by Tara Isabella Burton. Ghosting. Literally. A psychopath with social media savvy can get away with murder. Fooling narcissistic Manhattan millennials with Facebook tagging, photoshopping. Yup. Hiding homicide never easier.
Not those Queens quips from Hot Air One. Although they qualify. It’s what’s overheard on the street. People on cell phones talking at high decibels. Intimate conversations with lovers. Bosses firing employees. The quack doc complaining about his wacky girlfriend crying on the floor in front of the elevators in the lobby of his building. Mother berating another over how to parent. Wife telling someone her husband’s working late every night. Even on weekends. She’s stuck home with the kids. Yup. It’s an audible soap opera every day. We can hear you!
Word on the street. U.S. Open. Ricky Fowler for the win. Wishing for Poulter. Looks like D.J.
The Spotted Pig, trendy mainstay of the West Village has been the fodder for recent #MeToo due to bad behavior by restaurateur duo Mario Batali and Ken Friedman. Friedman’s chef co-owner April Bloomfield has parted ways with him after pretending to be oblivious to the debauched behavior in the venue’s after-hours-upstairs. Drugging and raping staff. Allegedly.
News today that another woman is going to partner with Friedman to revive The Spotted Pig. Gabrielle Hamilton, author of Blood, Bones & Butter and decades-acclaimed chef owner of East Village gem Prune. A renegade rebel from lobster fiascos at upscale camps in the Berkshires, to line chef at Curtis & Schwartz in Northampton while at Hampshire College, as told in Table’s Edge. This is an interesting decision. But. Hey. Go Gabrielle! You are a true survivor.
After leaving at least G-5 of the G-7 shaking their heads back in Québec. Now the UnPrecedential President is in Singapore to meet Little Rocket Man for an unprecedented summit. Why not? Dennis Rodman in the house. Why not? Will Donny T make Kimmy Jong the new celebrity dictator? Why not? It’s a new day. In a new way. Pundits and analysts are spraying flame retardant all over each other so their hair doesn’t catch fire.
Back to the very presidential Obama. If true, he’s been having private summits of his own with so-called 2020 candidates. Joe Biden. Bernie Sanders. Elizabeth Warren. Deval Patrick. Cory Booker. Whew. Old and shallow bench. Dust off those MAGA hats.
Dennis Rodman is already wearing his. We’ll see.
My comments were NYTimes Picks today – on Maureen Dowd’s column Bill’s Belated #MeToo Moment, and Kat Stoeffel’s about her mother’s obsession with a certain cable news network, The Age of the MSNBC Mom. Never without an opinion. Duck and cover on the UWS!
Tony’s. Saw nominated Amy Schumer in Meteor Shower and Mark Rylance in his playwright wife Claire Van Kampen’s Farinelli & the King. Also Parisian Woman with Uma Thurman. Not nominated. For good reason. As for most everything else. Re-treads. And. If SpongeBob is any indication of the musical’s future. It’s dark. On the bright side tonight’s showstoppers Sara & Josh. And. Parkland High School’s poignantly performed Seasons of Love from Rent.
Bruce Springsteen is the heartland’s melodic poet. Recalls the global Bourdain. Jersey boys.
Spotted this enterprising guy in Central Park. Where else could his buttons be more popular? As I was buying one as a gift for my TTSD-suffering Dr. Husband, a group of school kids came over wanting to see the array of choices. Dr. H bought them a few, too. One young man whispered to me, “I voted for Trump over Hillary”. He was maybe 12. I said, why? He said because if Hillary were President, we’d already be at war now. Hmmm.
Then a wonderfully hilarious column about MSNBC addiction in the NY Times spoke to me. Every time I walk into a room it’s on. Pedantic pontificating hosts are killing me! So related.
“It’s Mueller Time”
Bea and Ariane. Kate Spade’s and Anthony Bourdain’s daughters. 13 and 11. They are the true victims of their parent’s suicides this week. Their loss is exacerbated by a future of questions and abandonment. Whether intended or not. Also feel for Eric Ripert who found his pal Tony. It’s not something he’ll ever forget. Guilt. Remorse. Who knows. For other family and loved ones as well. These acts take such a toll.
Bourdain’s poetic storytelling was masterful. He brought people from far away cultures into our homes. His joie de vivre was contagious. It seemed. But, his dark side crept out in many journeys as he recalled past demons of substance abuse. Credit him with shining a bright light on the opioid epidemic in Western Massachusetts. It was a catalyst to delve into the rural crises which became a national focus in the 2016 campaign.
Parts unknown. Indeed. Sad sad days.