Competing memorials dominated the weekend.
The Queen of Soul’s raucous marathon recalled the era of civil rights marches and gospel anthems. Billy Bob Clinton, Jesse Jackson, Louis Farrakhan headlined on the Detroit stage with Aretha herself all decked out in gold. A sight to behold.
In D.C. all the pols gathered from both sides of the aisle to feign unity for a day to honor John McCain at the National Cathedral. Sarah Palin was erased from the story. Trump was absent by design yet ever present in consistently drawn contrasts. Meghan let no one forget that she is indeed her father’s daughter with a loving yet fiercely loyal authenticity.
Media used each event to flaunt their own blatantly hypocritical agendas. Back to normal.
Sizzling in the City. Weeks of air conditioned whirring leads to wondering.
How can Catholics continue to go to church? Where are you Francesco? Don’t say you’ll hold those accused or covered it up accountable. Boston’s Cardinal Law just died in the Vatican’s lap of luxury. A generational epidemic with no cure-ate in sight.
Why would Broadway talent & Melania impersonator Laura Benanti take part in the Luann de Lesseps Real Housewives Countess Cabaret Show? Sad.
Why do professional women on television continue to dress like they are at the beach or going to a hoochi afterhours club? If men wore muscle shirts would you take them seriously?
Will Tiger ever win another major? Still mourning his runner-up finish at the PGA a week ago. Broken record alert! He needs new blood on the bag. Ditch Joey. And. The driver.
Why is Trump having a Hamptons fundraiser in the middle of the day on a summer Friday? Because he is Trump the ultimate traffic troll. And. For a hot dog.
Grammys return to NYC. Riri & DJ beat Bruno & Cardi B as well as Elton & Miley. They all bested Jay-Z. But. What do puppies have to do with it? Dogs are everywhere. Jeez. And. It’s a music show. Why can’t they ever get the sound right? Even at MSG. In Memoriam Imagine mosaic at Strawberry Fields. Where daily we hear buskers sing Lennon songs off-key.
At the end of the day it’s 24K.
It’s Fall. Happened at 4:02 pm. Leaves starting to yellow a bit. Autumnal sounds reverberating through our windows. Must be Global Citizen Festival. Rehearsing for the annual event. Free and easy to head over to see and hear before the crowds pack the Park tomorrow. They don’t know the world is going to end. Sing on!
Meanwhile over at Madison Square Garden, Joey Three Sticks is catching Bruno Mars. Uptown funk you up. Uptown funk you up.
Exciting weekend in the ‘hood. Global Citizen concert in Central Park. Saturday night our apartment 10 blocks down shook with the bass and drums of Metallica and Kendrick Lamar. Then came the show stopper. Rihanna. RiRi. She didn’t seem to know much about the cause. Nonetheless she performed. Reminiscent of Amy Winehouse R&B. Generous show. mAdBen got to see it up close. Lucky.
Today as we strolled toward home, guys in suits stopped us from going down our street. Walkie talkies into the lapel earpiece thing. Clearly somebody was coming to our neighbor building San Remo. As a rush of men entered the lobby and the sirens abated, we asked , who was that? They gave us hints. A tall man with white hair. Not American. Met with both candidates today to get their support. Got it. BiBi Netanyahu. Woo hoo. As we watched him leave from our bedroom view, he rolled down the window and waved. Then on to Hamilton.
Bethesda Fountain just a few footsteps away from home. On International Day of Peace. 45th Anniversary Imagine release. John Lennon and his guitar by the Central Park bandshell for a day. Hard to capture without a helicopter.
Burning Down the House. No. Not Speaker of the House Paul Ryan’s Donald Trump dilemma.
A new novel by Jane Mendelsohn. Her work combines David Byrne’s classic Talking Heads songs with Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre in a new Broadway musical. Sounds cool. Right? Too bad it’s a minor aside to the main plot. What? Yup. Never a clear connection to the story of anti sex-trafficking causes. I don’t mind a political agenda. Just don’t pose it as a fictional work. Other that that. The cover attracted me to the depiction of the San Remo on the Upper West Side. Problem was. Everyone in the book lives either in the Village or on the Upper East Side. Calling all editors. Anyway. Liked the cover. Love David Byrne.