George Clooney said he’s going to quit acting because he doesn’t want to look like an old shlump in front of the camera. He’s 54. That’s old? If that’s old, he can park his walker in my space anytime.
Him I remember as dashing Doctor Ross on "ER."
I didn’t recall ever seeing him in a movie until Adele (Luskin, not the single-named zhlubby kvetch singing: “Oy-oy-oy! I’m so sad. Nobody loves me. Give me another award.”), reminded me we’d seen the piece of narrishkeit where he was chasing Arabs in the desert (“Syriana”), but I say it was Charlton Heston.
Do I believe George Clooney is going to put the kibosh on his acting career? A nechtiger tog!
Every month Cher weinens she has one foot in the grave from the Epstein-Barr. So a Broadway musical about her life she’s writing and a tell-all book spilling the dirt on her sordid affairs with both men and women. Such a platke-macher, that one.
This she’s kvelling about? Try staying married to the same man your entire life -- one who incessantly hummed “Auf Wiederseh’n” and whose dentures clicked every time he chewed. That’s true love.
Me, I had plenty of opportunities for the hanky-panky with famous men. At a B'nai B'rith function, Dan Dailey said I looked like Claire Trevor and winked at me. But did I jump out of my flimsies and hop into bed with him? Chas vesholem! Later Sylvia told me he was gay, but I didn’t believe it, not with that deep voice of his.
And as for cavorting with men and women, that’s no megillah. Two birds you can kill with one stone by inviting Caitlyn Jenner over to the house. Naked she’s still Bruce.
And who would have recognized this hulking golem at Ralph’s in Encino? Not me. It was Oscar winner Geena Davis. Oy!
|After and before|