Sunny Sunday in Bushburg

Madison looks regal and elegant until you look a little closer and see -- that tongue! That infernal tongue! It turns her into Cary Grant in a negligee.




Upon close inspection of this image, I was surprised to notice that there is definitely light reactivity in Mambo's right eye -- his pupil is contracting in the sunshine. Maybe he isn't blind. Maybe he's just ignoring me.

Rand Paul Supported by Sarah Palin AND a Whole Bunch of Racists.

So this dude Rand Paul, son of Ron, is running for some office in Kentucky. Now, Paul the son has apparently gotten the support of both Sarah Palin and Stormfront. If you google "Rand Paul + Neo-Nazis" one of the items that comes up on the first search page is a link to a fundraising page for Paul on Stormfront.

If you don't know what Stormfront is, it's a web forum for racist troglodytes, populated by your basic "downtrodden" white-guy Aryan nation knuckle-draggers.

(Somehow or other, the son of the Stormfront guy managed to get himself elected to the Palm Beach County, FL, Republican Election Committee, thereby validating my belief that the Republican Party is indeed the party of racist white guys).

Leave it to Stupid Sarah to not even see what's floating in the pool before she jumps in.

And since I refuse to link to Stormfront, I'll instead send you on over to (one of) my hero Morris Dees' place: Southern Poverty Law Center.

I'm Team Gaga

Watching the Grammy's tonight while Mambo and the little Miss act like static cling.

Lady Gaga opens the show with a genius performance of "Poker Face." It doesn't quite achieve the level of art that she hit last fall with the blood and suicide on the VMA's, but she more than holds her own performing with Sir Elton.

Poor Beyonce has to follow her, thereby spotlighting the glaring difference between art and commerce.

Lady G is for all the weird kids and outcasts. Beyonce plays to the cheerleaders.

Lady Gaga is Dom Perignon. Beyonce is a Bartles and James white wine spritzer.

Lady Gaga is Coney Island. Beyonce is Disneyworld.

Lady Gaga is the White Roses hanging on the wall of the Met. Beyonce is Thomas Kinkade being hawked on HSN.

Lady Gaga is Peter Luger. Beyonce is Hamburger Heaven.

Now understand, I don't hate Beyonce. I like her just fine, the way I like Lays potato chips. I find her perfectly likeable, palatable, and well, easily consumed.

When I watch Lady Gaga I get a slightly queasy, uneasy feeling. I'm being challenged, and I don't know what's challenging me. It's not that her songs are so exceptional, they're you're basic singalongable dance-pop, but damn, her performances kick serious ass.

That's all I have to say about that.

Besides how much I loved that T-Pain joint, with Slash tearing it up with "November Rain" at the end. Sweet.

Professor Obama Schools the Republicans

If you hadn't already heard, President Obama met with 140 Republicans yesterday and while they came armed with their best talking points, he politely and elegantly took them apart. It was thrilling to see. That was the guy we voted for. Best of all, it looked like he was having fun while he dismantled them.

Can you imagine George W Bush in the same situation? He would have been undone.

I can't wait to see the Sunday shows to see how the repugs try to spin this. You can bet that their leadership is huddled in a bunker somewhere with Karl Rove frantically planning their Sunday morning blitz.

Don't you love a good rope-a-dope?

I'm not sure who arranged this, but something tells me the return of David Plouffe just might have something to do with it.

Welcome back, Dave!

Unrelated side note: what the hell happened to the Rangers? They are down 3-0 after the first period against the Coyotes!

Gimme Shelter(box) -- Help Haiti

My friend (who is much cooler than any of us, face it) is a volunteer for Shelterbox.

I don't know if or when she may be deployed to Haiti, but this type of aid is exactly what the citizens of that destroyed country need right now.

Please go to their site and make a donation today.

Lunch Outside the Office

You never know who you might see.

Today at the Friar's Club:



Yes, Tessio was there! Nattily dressed in a pair of gray slacks with a lavender cashmere cableknit sweater, if I may say so. (If I have to explain who Tessio is, we can't be friends anymore)

Also putting in an appearance as we were finishing up coffee:



So as Paul Sor-fucking-vino passes our table he looks at us and says, "The ladies who lunch!" We all got a little starstruck, honestly. The guy has charisma. Plus, he's what you'd call "my type." Sorta big and rough around the edges. Still pretty hot, if you ask me.

So between Tessio and Big Paul Cicero, plus another silver-fox, chiclet-toothed guy in a pinstripe suit being greeted as he came into the Club, "Hey, it's Peter DeCarlo!", it felt like a retirement party for phony wiseguys.

It was fun.

Follow Directions!

Have you ever read a cookbook just for the fun of it? They're up there with atlases for pure, time-wasting bliss.

Earlier I was idling through my copy of "Talk About Good! -- Le Livre de la Cuisine de Lafayette," half-thinking tonight might be a good night for jambalaya, so what better place to turn than a bunch of Louisiana Junior Leaguers?

I love this cookbook for many reasons, among them the fact that all of the recipes have been submitted by locals and are attributed to women with names like "Mrs. Jefferson Davis Beauregard Ashley Wilkes IV." (Apparently Southern women give up their own first names when they get married.) Many of the recipes are unashamed of their canned ingredients and dairy fats ("1 Block of Butter," "1/2 pound Velveeta cheese"). Some assume a readership familiar with local cooking customs ("Make a roux.") A lot of them don't even require cooking!

Today I'm going to share -- verbatim -- a recipe from the "Mardi Gras" section of the book. Them Southerners do like to get their drink on!

BOWLE A LA KUMP
(A Festive German Wine Punch)
Submitted by Charles H. Stewart, M.D.

At 8 A.M., take one liter of German white wine (Zellar, Schwarte Katz, or Niersteiner Domtal, etc.). Pour into a large pitcher over 2 pints of fresh strawberries. Place in refrigerator. Three hours prior to serving, place 2 liters of white wine, 1 liter of champagne in the freezer. Immediately prior to serving, add these to the original strawberry-wine mixture. Place all in a large punch bowl. Dry ice may be added for effect -- but does not alter the flavor. Serves 4 lusty drinkers, or 8 bon vivants, or 16 "party drinkers".

Why I Love New York, Reason # 1,734,156

Union Square Subway Station, 1/7/2010, 8:41 pm

You got it right -- this guy wheeled a real, live piano to Union Square, then found an elevator, then got onto the N/R/W platform, then wheeled that sucker to ANOTHER elevator, and took up residence on the L platform.

While I waited for the L train to Brooklyn, I heard Rachmaninoff Symphony No. 2, "Mad World" by Tears for Fears, and "Nessun Dorma." All segued perfectly into one another.

It's a beautiful thing.

Take that, LA.

A Private Aside to Mr. Archer

Yeah, I'm callin' you out, sir.

I may be hopelessly lowbrow, but I, for one, LOVED this story: