The Breakfast Table

Too Much Free Time

Dear Dan,

Yes, Rudy is one for one today in Supreme Court rulings. But to answer your question, “Why does he do this stuff?” Well, I think that’s the beauty of Rudy. When he gets a hard on for something–whether it’s cabdrivers or tittie bars or those stupid walkways (that make it almost impossible to get into Saks, which is really a crime)–he just doesn’t let up, no matter how extreme or pre-menstrual he ends up sounding. I think there’s something admirable about that. You don’t see Rudy waffling, do you? Besides, as you so wisely pointed out, his over-the-top response to the New York magazine bus ads did little to further Rudy’s image (we already knew he was a humorless control freak) but plenty for New York magazine’s–much moreso than the ads themselves ever could have. Which is a fine public service to all of us freelance writers.

I also agree with you completely about the almost-humanlike attitude New Yorkers have been displaying lately. (With the exception of the 10 Items Or Less and no more or we’ll stab you line at Fairway, where it is still very possible, probable in fact, to come to blows with some skinny bitch on rollerblades.) But I hope all this niceness and decency in New York doesn’t become a trend. As a recently transplanted Philadelphian, I can assure you that gentility is overrated. But, alas, just today, the pregnant snob in my building went into early labor while screaming at the doorman over a late delivery from Bloomingdale’s, so there is some hope after all.

Dan, I know you’ll be bummed, but we forgot to watch Roseanne yesterday. The WashingtonPost ‘s “Reliable Source” informs that she donned a beret and sat in front of a pile of cash, to appeal to Monica Lewinsky. “Unlike Oprah and Diane Sawyer,” she squealed, “we have no journalistic standards here!” How did we miss that?

In other news, Dick Morris seems to have reached a new low, by blaming Erskine Bowles for the president’s blow jobs. His argument, in today’s New York Post, is that Bill complained to Erskine about being overscheduled, so Erskine gave him more free time. “The new arrangement,” writes Dick, “left Clinton free to think. Free to make phone calls. Free to meet with whomever he pleased. Free to read. Free to have sex and self-destruct.”

Which reminds me, Dan, what are you doing hanging out in bars? Don’t you have twins to raise? Don’t you know what happens to men with too much free time?