I know. Musical allusions abound. Anyway. That was fast. Virginia out. Busted brackets making more racket than St. Patrick’s Day parade marching bands up Fifth Avenue. Tiger sure didn’t burn up the greens either yesterday. So. Guess it’s dyed beer at the pubs to drown sorrows and boredom. Or read a book. Autumn by Ali Smith next on the book club list. Even though it’s nearly Spring, it’s cold. Yeah. One of those days.
It’s that time of year again. President Obama’s Final Four pits North Carolina against No. 1 seed Virginia and No. 1 Villanova against No. 3 Michigan State. If the former president has his way, Michigan State topples Virginia in the championship game. Too safe. My picks are Gonzaga, Virginia, Michigan State, Purdue. Virginia wins.
Since my soaps are pre-empted for the tournament today and tomorrow, will watch Tiger at Bay Hill. He is currently even after 2.
And. Who will be left standing in the White House when the final teams meet? Ivanka. Melania. Kellyanne. Sarah. With Carrie Mathison as head of CIA. Et tu brute?
Rex Tillerson’s ouster was communicated by a tweet. Bad blood was evident in the Secretary’s awkward breathless speech. An ungracious President’s latest to leave the White House’s inner circle. Trump better watch his step and hire a food taster quick. He’s piling up enemies by the minute. If he crosses Vlad next, who knows what’ll happen. It’ll get even Stormy-er in the Oval Office. Pompeo & Bolton? Whoa. That’ll be a hawk show. Duck and cover.
Apologies to the former Cat Stevens.
Make America laugh again. Journalists are such easy prey. They take themselves so seriously that any jab puts them into supercillious overdrive. Get a grip. Stop swinging at low hanging fruit and do some real reporting. Stormy. Really? And. Of course. Dennis Rodman would love to join the Rocket Man summit. Why not?
Speaking of light. Two out of three books so far fit the bill. The Wife Between Us, by Greer Hendricks, Sarah Pekkanen. Not sure why this took two women to conjure it. Disturbed families. Vulnerable adults. Worth a few hours on a wintry Saturday. Mrs., Caitlin Macy. Upper East Side moms. Nothing more than trite. However, The Woman In the Window, by A.J. Finn is not light at all. Dr.Husband reports depressing and tedious. So nope. Won’t read that one.
Apologies to Archie Bell & the Drells. Go Tiger!
Lots of great communications with family and friends. Good presents, too. Especially extended time with mAdBen and Dr.Husband for another delectable dining experience at Gramercy Tavern. Small business loan notwithstanding. It’s always worth the investment.
Tiger topped the leaderboard. Sam told Real Jason she loved him. Birthday perfection.
Unprecedented deal according to South Korean security advisor. Diplomacy over missiles. At least that’s tonight’s announcement. Little Rocket Man to meet Big Rocket Man by May. Is Dennis Rodman lurking in the background? I’ll buy tickets to that show.
But. Hey. Tear down that wall! Credit to sanctions bloviating and bluster. Press corps taken by surprise. Stormy and Russia obsessions off the cable news panels for a few minutes. Priorities.
On to Top Chef finale.
Forget about basketball madness. Here we go again. Another nor’easter. Snow and wind. This one called Quinn. Mighty or fizz? Bob Dylan’s Quinn the Eskimo sung by Manfred Mann. Written after Dylan saw Anthony Quinn’s Inuk the Eskimo in a movie. Those still without power in Westchester getting hit with a two-punch. March sure has come in like a lion.
At least they won’t be subjected to live feed of squealing women begging for a Bachelor to give them a rose and a ring. We’ve not come a long way, baby. And there’s the new law suit against Trump by that looming next tempest. Porn star Stormy Daniels.