The Upper East Side of Manhattan is an enclave of astonishing wealth. They are the idle rich that you and I envy. One of the cultural epicenters of all this wealth is the 92nd Street Y. Every fall, the Y holds a series of lectures. It’s all very stimulating stuff and tickets can become a hot item, not necessarily because of the subject matter, but because of the unrelenting need for wealthy folks to feel like they’re a part of something exclusive. For instance, if rumor has it that Meryl Streep might attend the Sigd: Ethiopian Jewish Celebration, tickets will suddenly become scarce and sought after.

The midday lectures are the best. Who do you suppose is able to attend a midday lecture? Wealthy people who do not need to work a proper job, of course. These lectures are tailored to address the problems and challenges facing this exclusive clientele. They’ve just released the fall schedule and here, verbatim, are some of the lectures that address the more pressing issues facing those beleaguered souls:

Tue, Oct 28
When Your Grown Kids Disappoint You
[How sweet.
“Mom, do you want to come to dinner on Tuesday night?”
“I can’t. I’m attending a lecture on how to cope with my disappointment in you.”
I’ve noticed that there are no lectures for children who have been burdened with the failed dreams of their parents.]

Thu, Nov 6
The Truth About Why Women Lie
[That would be a paradox, right?]

Wed, Nov 12
Beyond Botox: Advanced Anti-Aging
[The audience is a room full of smiling stone-faced bitties clutching Hermès birkin bags.]

Fri, Nov 14
Salt
[Huh?]

Wed, Nov 19
Mothers-In-Law and Daughters-In-Law: Love and Hate
[I’m betting the emphasis is on hate.]

Mrs. Wife and I saw the Dali Llama speak at the 92 St Y. He’s a mumbley son-of-a-gun and because we were seated in the back, we couldn’t understand a single word he said.

I stumbled across this headline on the Reuters scrawl:

GOP Convention: Bush Still Enjoys Strong Support in Nebraska

How can that be? And I don’t mean to single out Nebraska. I’m asking in a much broader sense. How can that be? I tried to step outside of myself and take a good, long, non-judgmental look at the President. I wanted to be completely objective and set aside any emotion. I just don’t see it. How can anyone still support that guy?

* * *

Take a look at this fun sculpture:

This is “Shine” by Willie Cole. It’s a primitive-style mask made from more than a dozen high-heeled women’s shoes. Upon first glance, I didn’t see the shoes. Could I have come up with something as bizarre and creative as that? Not in this lifetime. It’s part of a new exhibit that just opened at the Met.

Old school wrestler Walter (Killer) Kowalski has died.

The NY Times wrote yet another one of their fantastic obits. Their obits read like very short short stories. Here’s how Kowalski got his “Killer” moniker:

“I was leaping off the rope, and Yukon Eric, who had a cauliflower ear, moved at the last second,” Kowalski told The Chicago Tribune in 1989. “I thought I missed, but all of a sudden, something went rolling across the ring. It was his ear.”

Yukon Eric was taken to a hospital, and the promoter asked Kowalski to visit him and apologize for severing his ear. Reporters were listening to their chat from a corridor.

“There was this 6-foot-5, 280-pound guy, his head wrapped like a mummy, dwarfing his bed,” Kowalski said. “I looked at him and grinned. He grinned back. I laughed, and he laughed back. Then I laughed harder and left.

“The next day the headlines read, ‘Kowalski Visits Yukon in the Hospital and Laughs.’ And when I climbed into the ring that night, the crowd called out, ‘You animal, you killer.’ And the name stuck.”

Killer Kowalski was before my time, but I do remember going to the now defunct Cleveland Arena (site of the first rock n’ roll concert—the Moondog Coronation Ball hosted by Alan Freed) to watch Pamparo Firpo, Bobo Brazil, Ernie “Big Cat” Ladd and a host of other glorious misfits. The rest of the obit is pretty killer. (Ha. See what I did there?) If you need a laugh, go read it.

I wanted to read one more quick, easy book before summer came to a close so I impulsively grabbed a copy of Born Standing Up by Steve Martin, which was just released in paperback. I had read Shopgirl a few years ago and was amazed at how well written and compelling it was. Born Standing Up was published about a year ago and received some favorable reviews. I’m happy to report that it’s a very enjoyable read that doesn’t make you work very hard. A perfect adios to summer. It’s a bio. He had problems with his father. I think daisyfae might be the only person I know who had a strong relationship with her dad. Lucky girl, she is.

Mr. Martin and I have a shared interest. He collects rare books, too. Like him, I also had some daddy issues. We are almost the exact same person, he and I, except that he has an overabundance of talent and cash and I do not. Do you know who else collects rare books? TVs Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sarah Michele Gellar! I was at a book fair here in New York a few years ago and walked into a dealer’s booth to peruse his stock. She walked up next to me and examined an incredibly rare Shakespeare folio. How hot is that?

* * *

The more I see how happy the evangelicals are about Sarah Palin’s VP nomination, the more creeped-out I am. My experience has taught me that the evangelicals are not to be trusted. Anything that they get all hopped-up about is probably not going to be healthy for the rest of us.

Thud
Matrix
Wishlist
Gesundheit
Tok
Xanthate
Beelzebub
Carl