The Breakfast Table

Planet New Jersey


So, basically, you hate Planet Hollywood?

I do, too, but I don’t think we can blame Hollywood for Planet Hollywood. Or even the naked disdain on the part of the moneyed elites toward the great mass of people. I blame the great mass of people. The last time I wandered by New York’s Planet Hollywood, I was aghast at how many plump New Jerseyans in tube tops were lined up, belly to belly, on the sidewalk, clamoring to get inside. Maybe it’s just the people in Gurnee Mills, Illinois, who have the good sense not to go there. (Though I think if I had to spend any amount of time in Gurnee Hills, that’s the first place I’d visit.)

But I’m glad you finally got around to stock shares, Dan. As they say in my home town of Scranton, Pa. (where they are anxiously awaiting the next Planet Hollywood, not to mention the first Casablanca), “All I know is when the President stopped getting blow jobs from interns, my mutual fund started to tank.” I was reminded of this today when my Newsweek arrived a day late with the spooky cover line–CRASH OF 99? My second thought was: Good thing Dan Akst is my on-line penpal this week. He’ll know whether I should take my fifty bucks out of the Vanguard Windsor II–and fast. But my fears were quickly squelched by something even spookier inside the pages of Newsweek : Larry King appearing in not one, but two, full-page advertisements. Is anyone–even a New Jerseyan–really more likely to either stay at the Hilton or drink milk as a result of these shameless ads? And doncha think that serial-husband media types promoting second-rate hotel chains is even more of a threat to society than Captain Crunch coated deep-fried chicken strips? Just curious.


P.S. I like Bruce Willis as Virgil.