The Breakfast Table

Boy Oh Boy Oh Boy

Hey Beam:

I did see the Herald item about that generous John Kerry helping a blonde, I mean a young person. That was always his type, anyway–until he got married, of course. And it would be great fun if Friedman, whom I call my three-foot-high landlord, had a hand in the introduction.

Before I turn into Lucianne Goldberg (no offense, L.G.) I want to tell you that your Globe column today will surely get a lot of attention, if only because of the naked people pictured next to it–in color, yet. Is there a newspaper version of Sweeps that I don’t know about?

And yes, I, too, remember where I was when word came of Diana’s death: at a terrific dinner party in Jackson Hole, given for me by an old beau and his wife. We were all scurrying into the kitchen at intervals to get updates. (The cook was tuned to CNN.) I have always been grateful that I was able to experience closure at the foot of the Tetons, a spiritual place, sparing me from having to trek to Harrod’s basement to see the plastic roses placed by photos of Dodi and Di.

Now, back to being Lucianne. I just had a terrible thought. What if “inappropriate relationship” becomes imbedded (no pun intended) in the language as being synonymous with “sex?” This can only be bad for family values. Imagine some poor parent, initiating the birds and bees discussion, having to say, “Well, we need to talk about inappropriate relationships.” I wish Clinton had never said it that way.

And though Bob Woodward is denying working on such a story, there may be more Starrlets to come. Just how many interns do you think the guy was doing?

The Washington Post says the powers that be in Ballybunion “banned the sale or use of Lewinsky masks.” The town fathers want Bill Clinton to feel comfortable. And the local beauty shop, “Monica’s,” is being temporarily renamed “The President’s Shop.” Guess I’ll just have to stay away from Ireland when I wear my Lewinsky mask …

Did you know they’re writing inappropriate relationship songs already? A chap named Steve Vaus in San Diego has written, “Wrong’s Not Right,” for the purpose, he says, of reminding Americans and the President that “honesty, integrity, and morality matter.” Vaus has interspersed his own lyrics with Clinton’s denial sound bites, like (lyric lyric lyric) then: “I did not have sex with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky.” The Lanny Davis brigade cannot even say Vaus is doing this to make a buck because he won’t sell the song. He’s inviting people, instead, to tape it from the radio and make two copies: sending one to the White House, the other to a friend.

Irv Kupcinet, in the Chicago Sun-Times, reports that Hillary “has urged the President to consider resigning to spare Chelsea more Starr sexual revelations.” It would certainly be the humane thing to do, and perhaps even belatedly honorable.

I think I’ll go hit Harvard Square and take a poll. (Do you think I can pass for Frank Luntz?)