Dinner Is Served
I read this in an American newspaper (it was written by a woman who used to edit my copy for a New York glossy, but I will withhold her name to save her embarrassment and social atrophy): “He’s hosted Kim Kardashian and Kanye West for Thanksgiving, regularly cruises with Justin Bieber on his party yacht….” The mind reels. Is it possible to read such crap without throwing up? How would you, dear reader, like to spend Thanksgiving with Kim and Kanye, or go cruising with Justin? Heaven helps us. (I’d rather fail a syphilis test than have a Kardashian as a guest.) I suppose the selfish generation, whose motto is “He who dies with the most toys wins,” could easily spend a holiday with the above-mentioned unmentionables, yet the my-cell-phone-is-thinner-than-yours principle leaves something to be desired.
Mind you, the person who has had such august personalities for dinner is a Miami nightclub owner, hardly le gratin of American society. But my ex-editor meant to be nice—she was actually impressed by his name-dropping. Imagine if she had asked him for his favorite guests at an imaginary dinner party. I wonder whom he would have picked? Charlie Sheen? The imaginary dinner party is a bit like Desert Island Discs. I was on it once, and Sue Lawley, the presenter at the time, and I got along just dandy. During a break, I asked her about the choices people have made, and she told me that those who picked only classical and rarely listened to the pieces were mostly footballers or music-hall comedians.
Ditto for imaginary dream dinner parties. I once asked an American automobile tycoon (okay, it was Henry Ford II) whom he would have liked to dine with à deux, and he answered, “Paul Valéry.” I was impressed. “How come Paul Valéry? Which poem?” “Poem? What poem? It’s my whorehouse on Rue Paul Valéry in Paris.” Sure enough, he was right. Billy’s was a whorehouse on Rue Paul Valéry, and I had been a client once, but Madame Claude had left Billy a mile behind in the quality of service. Back then, when girls didn’t give it away as often as they do nowadays, whorehouses were good business. But back to dinner parties, imaginary ones.
The post Dinner Is Served appeared first on LewRockwell.
Leave a Reply