Ate my heart
He a-a-ate my heart out
He ate my heart
He a-a-ate my heart out

Look at him
Look at me
That boy is bad
And honestly
He’s a wolf in disguise
But I can’t stop staring in those evil eyes

-Monster by Lady Gaga

Devorah Rose like Bud Fox in Wall Street may literally have ‘bagged the elephant’ in gaining media attention from her fleeting association with author Salman Rushdie. The Upstart Jewish Socialite from Newton, Massachusetts, otherwise known as Deborah Denise Trachtenberg, who is a ‘Celebrity of Her Own Making’ appeared on the front page of Rupert Murdoch’s New York Post twice in one week, including yesterday’s Sunday edition.

The enlightened among us have questioned why this absurdity is even news. The woman posing in the Sunday’s New York Post as a victim of abuse by Mr. Rushdie, Ms. Rose is a rather notorious Social Parasite of the highest order. There are numerous profiles in the public domain of the reality obsessed aspiring actress and wannabe socialite documenting her incessant and shameless social climbing and ongoing efforts to manipulate media coverage. In the present instance, she tweeted a picture of herself with author Salman Rushdie having dinner at the uber trendy Manhattan eatery Indochine with a rather suggestive message. She then fired off snippets of her Facebook dialogue with the former spouse of beauty Padma Lakshmi to blog Scallywag & Vagabond. The media madness ensued, with questions about the depth and extent of their rather brief flirtation, only to be followed by the abuse allegation by the nervy parasite.

Miss Devorah Rose whined:

“What he did was verbally abusive,” said Rose. “He knew the best way to hurt me.”

“He’s a hurtful person. His was sadistic, violating behavior. I’m never again going to look up to someone I’m not close to. It doesn’t matter if a man is your idol, if a man makes you feel bad, you need to stand up for yourself. Women need to have a no-jerk policy. Women can’t let men play games with them. I just want girls to know they need to speak out and this type of behavior is not OK.”

NY Post quotes Rushdie’s ‘abuse’ of the Crazed Reality Star as follows:

“I’m sorry to say that I don’t feel able to pursue what we only just began. I think you are a dynamic, passionate, extraordinary person, and I apologize for backing away so suddenly.”

Her pseudo feminist mishegas directed towards womankind in a rant to the NY Post reeks with all the sincerity of a grifter fleecing her prey and her call to protection of other similarly afflicted female victims, with all the coherence of a drunkard saying “I love you man.”  Women who scream abuse or cry wolf as part of their own famegame but who have suffered no damages or actual abuse undermine women who are real victims.   Somehow, I highly doubt that Gloria Allred even wants to jump into the mix on this one. Yes, it is that ridiculous.

The photo ilustrates nothing…..

As a photographer and a lawyer and one who has seen up close and personal Ms. Rose’s antics, in my opinion, the image tweeted by Ms. Rose illustrates nothing. It hardly looks like that representative or indicative of some massive romance, deeply formed alliance or any kind of significant intimate relationship between her and the world famous author of the Satanic Verses. It instead looks like that of one taken by a fan or brazen fame ball/stalker for her scrapbook or tool in her ongoing social climb.

In his research and in forced exile/hiding after the issuance of a fatwa against him by Ayatollah Khomeni and the violent Muslim reaction that followed publication of  The Satanic Verses I still do not think that Mr. Rushdie ever encountered anyone so deeply committed to completion of their mission as that of a crazed ‘fame monster’ like  Miss Devorah Rose.

As stated to me by an acquaintance who has withdrawn from New York Social circles because she has moved on to a more important segment of her life called adulthood: “It never ceases to amaze me the lengths these people will go for ’status’ in the make-believe construct of their social microcosm.”

Men of means and accomplishment are on notice that this type of Dangerous Beauty with a narcissistic personality disorder worships only at the alter of fame. She will sell you out at hello. Devorah tweeted that picture of her and Rushdie because in her mind, it made her ‘relevant’. And by relevant I mean that a man of means, intellect and literary accomplishment chose to have this charlatan in his company, however briefly.

Tweeting that photo was a marketing and publicity maneuver and not indicative of behavior becoming a lady or a woman sincerely interested in a meaningful involvement with a man of substance. Emily Post would certainly not approve of this course of conduct.  Given that she is a woman of literally no meaningful accomplishment but a semi nude spread of her surgically sculpted and lipo-suctioned frame having appeared in the pages of Maxim in a spread that seems more appealing to necrophiliacs, pedophile and fans of Anorexia, one should not be surprised that Mr. Rushdie had little interest in an ‘intellectual relationship’ with someone whose apparent social currency was fame for no reason and nude profile resembling a concentration camp victim. It shocks me that she could have even briefly made him horny. But that  is besides the point.

Devorah Rose: Another Cog in the Wheel of the Culture of Distraction

Whether this is yet another case of ‘Men Behaving Badly’ or a pervy old man misreading the intent of a woman who flaunts her nudity online with the brazen hustle of a street walker is not so relevant. That he chose to walk away from her is not abusive to Ms. Rose as much as it was likely motivated to preserve whatever remained of his integrity as well as coming to the realization that he was being used. Hence,  if he was looking for ‘The Girlfriend Experience’ he should have paid by the hour rather than tangled with an unrelenting fame monster who simply would not stop trading off the one photo of them together.

While some may commend the upstart Jewish socialite for her persistence or perseverance in continuing to garner time in the spotlight without any noteworthy accomplishments, the endless pursuit of reality fame to place yourself in the right place at the right time, like a scheming Forrest Gump, is hardly a heady or noble life pursuit.  Folks like Devorah are oblivious to the entire REAL world around them while the dutifully serve as cogs in the wheel of the culture of distraction.  America is being extracted, the middle class eroding with a painful and growing income inequality due to the efforts of inept and corrupt politicians and financial oligarchs that have created  a destabilized financial system which may bring about the economic collapse of America. But the Frankenstein Fame Monster known as Devorah Rose sat next to Salman Rusdie and exchanged texts and simply had to insure that her brief and fleeting association went viral.

Back on January 1, 2009 Page Six in a piece entitled PARTIES, PRADA GO INTO HIDING quoted this writer stating the following:

“As the economy unravels further and we head into a global worldwide ‘Depression,’ the relative significance of who and what is important on New York’s party circuit will matter far less. As far more folks find themselves living less glamorous lives, our willingness to celebrate the petulant indulgences of others will dissipate. Perhaps then fame will become based more on some substantive and real set of values and accomplishments rather than doing coke at Bungalow 8 or merely staying out too late at parties at high-end boutiques.”

That Miss Rose continues to be given a platform proves only that the culture of distraction continues to call upon its loyal servants for more tomfoolery at the expense of enlightenment of our citizenry.

Most who met her between 2005 -2010 do not recognize her in these images on Maxim. Upon closer examination of the images of Devorah Rose in Maxim, Facebook and Twitter, what I see is not an attractive, sexually desirable woman but something that is disturbing. The images are a cross between a concentration camp victim and a vampire who is but one procedure away from looking like Jocelyn Wildenstein. What was not removed with a plastic surgeon’s scalpel or sucked out via liposuction, enhanced via breast implants or collagen injections was photo shopped or air brushed to reveal a feminine creature that is a turn on only for necrophiliacs or pedophiles.

Scallywag & Vagabond asked whether Ms. Rose is a “Shameless Social Climber or Misunderstood Cover Model.” Maybe perhaps a social disease which is a symptom of the times? Arguably, anyone who has gone through the level of personal reconstruction, including cosmetic surgical makeovers and revisionist history of her lineage, in the pursuit of fame and notoriety as has Ms. Rose has serious self esteem issues or suffers from narcissistic personality disorder.

As for Ms. Rose I recommend that she adds to her reading list “He’s Just Not That Into You” or if you can’t read, rent the movie.

Perhaps the rest of us can simply  ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’.

*NOTE: This post was written for and appeared first in Cape Cod Today

SEE ALSO
Hamptonyte: Inside the Social Life Magazine Kerfuffle
Hamptonyte: Breaking: Social Life Magazine editor threatens to quit
Hamptonyte blog: NY Times Profiles Most Transparent Fameball in History
Hamptonyte blog: Hate Mail & Devorah Rose’s obnoxious post Times profile reaction
NY Times: A Celebrity of her own Making
Jewish Journal: Devorah Rose: Future reality star or upstart Jewish socialite?
NY Magazine: How Do You Solve a Problem Like Devorah?
Cape Cod Today: Salman Rushdie Attacked by NYC Fame Monster
Scallywag & Vagabond: Devorah Rose: Women’s advocate against abuse that cried wolf.
CAPITAL: The Salman Rushdie-Devorah Rose Story:Why?

I got love for my brother, but we can never go nowhere
unless we share with each other. We gotta start makin’ changes.
Learn to see me as a brother ’stead of 2 distant strangers.
And that’s how it’s supposed to be.
How can the Devil take a brother if he’s close to me?
I’d love to go back to when we played as kids
but things changed, and that’s the way it is
-Changes by Tupac Shakur (1998)

Occupy Love

The pain of this universe fills my soul. I see it. I hear it. I feel it. Especially tonight, there are people out there all across America, here in my hometown, in your neighborhoods who are suffering, crying alone, without work or a home, wondering, perhaps even hoping, that tonight is the night; the last night they will be in this pain as they get pulled into the abyss, no longer having to fight for their survival in a world that seems not to give a damn about them. We turn away from them because we fear that they may pull us down with them. They remind us all of our rather inherent vulnerability. The bottom seems endless to many, while the middle seems illusive and insurmountable. The revolution is love.  ’What the world needs now [more than ever]is love, sweet love, its the only thing that there’s just to little of.  Can you imagine a world without more love and less pain and suffering? ‘ It’s easy if you try.’

Occupy Wall Street – The Revolution is Love by Occupy Love

Some are even tempting fate, providing assistance succumbing via the tools of addiction generously provided by society to demoralize the weakened further into a downward spiral of decline; a process which truly needs no help to pull you down by the way. Because they are alone, in pain, in a world that seems not to care about them as much as it cares about perpetuating the demonic interests of a set of greedy motherfuckers hell bent on enslaving what remains of humanity, they give up.

My brothers and sisters, the only reason, I am not there with you giving up, is that in my heart and soul, I truly believe that these SOB’s need a challenge here on this planet, in this life, NOW! Maybe I am only one man, a middle aged one at that. But maybe there are more of you like me who understand. Understand that these demons need a challenge from someone, maybe even more than one of us willing to go the distance until we strike them and their barren system down. Maybe those someone’s are you and me. And so on. My movement is the preservation of humanity and restoration of the dignity of man. What’s yours?

To those of you who must know, tonight, I will cry like a baby girl for the pain and suffering of those I love and those I ought to love but still don’t know. The tears will be mine but they flow for you, not for me. At a time of Thanksgiving, to walk the streets of this town and to see the emptiness in the hearts of even one human, is too painful to ignore without recognizing first that which must be righted. We must work to sustain and perpetuate the righteous among us as opposed to idolizing and worshiping those who are less so.

Even putting aside the Illuminati in the music industry, it should be readily apparent who are those serving as the agents for the culture of distraction, helping to deceive, dis-inform, manipulate and numb the minds of our citizens. The music clearly does not match the times. It is barren of spirit, hope and humanity.  ‘They’ intentionally extracted or removed America’s heart because they really don’t want you to think my brother. Hell no. That’s just the way it is. Its time to let these false icons go and realize that they are a bunch of artistic I-Con Men and women. They con you out of your souls with their rhythmic beats.  And that’s also the way it is.

To those agents of distraction who dare think you have ascended to the throne, let me say this: you could take all of Jay Z’s, P Diddy or Puffy whatever his name is (who will always be too small to fill The Notorious B.I.G.’s shoes no matter how many bottles of Ciroc he sells in the hood)  half hearted artistic smegma and they do not add up to what TUPAC wiped off his rear end much less this one song called ‘Changes’ written by a rapper, poet and social justice activist .  I take a pass at Kanye West (for now) and Eminem cause at they seem  willing at times to examine the state of humanity. To the former two sorry bitches you never ascended to the throne. Ass clowns may be  ‘Running this Town Tonight’ with Rihanna or  be ‘Watching the throne’ but the one you think you are sitting on is actually the TOILET.

The one who is still holding the real throne is six feet under. RIP Tupac. You could release a song from the grave and smoke all these fools, running their asses straight out of town. Real art stands the test of time, the other crap is just a damn crime. To Lady Gaga let me say while I feel your glory,  understand in terms of oppression that the civil rights movement does not end with gay marriage. Open your eyes, many of your little monsters are living in a world where increasingly their only cause of optimism is the release of one of your CD’s or a chance meeting with the Italian Stallion of the music industry, herself. For real. And that’s just the way it is. Maybe some things will never change.

Tonight as I once again listened to one of the greatest songs of all times by the late Tupac Shakur, I am reminded of those of you who feel forgotten and pushed aside. I wish we could live in a world where you each had your own personal Jesus, “someone who is in your prayers and someone who cares.” I wish I had the power to alleviate all the pain and suffering tonight of my countrymen in these incredibly challenging times. I am sorry I am not more than what I am.

And there is a special someone out there in this world tonight, who knows who he is, brother I would gladly trade places with you because your life is far more worthy than mine.  In my prayers tonight I would offer up myself to replace you and hope that my prayers are answered by our maker by morning. Spare you. Take me. Please dear Lord.

“Am I my brother’s keeper?” (Genesis 4:9). “Yes I think so.” (Chris London 11: 23: 20111)

Scallywag & Vagabond Publishes A Defense of ‘My Passionate Stance on the ‘Civil Rights Issue’ of Our Time. Who Said I am Jealous of Peter Davis?!’

Chris London on Madison Avenue in Midtown Manhattan

Accusation: “Chris London you are attacking Peter Davis because you are not as stylish or as good a writer as he is.”

Take a look at me. Go ahead. Do I look like I really care about being one of the “Fashionable Elite”?  My heroes are people like Jane Jacobs, Norman Mailer, Lenny Bruce, Jack Kerouac,Jimmy Breslin, Chris Hedges, Joseph Stiglitz and Paul Krugman to name a few.   Word Up, with all due respect to Peter Davis and his talents, he is not one of my heroes or a source of intellectual inspiration, even if I do have a personal affinity for and respect him.

Peter Davis is, however, a stylish, attractive gentleman about town who garners looks from both men and women, and he is rather appropriately the Avenue Insider because of his connection to the life of Upper East Side privilege, while I on the other hand must be a ‘bridge & tunnel’ savage. Peter Davis is always the right guest while I might be the one you have to think about.  Peter is by choice a top notch “Fashion Writer” whose role is to cover and write about who or what are in Vogue. And he does it rather well. Some would say he lives the life of a Bon Vivant, hob-nobbing with those he covers. Mazel Tov!

I have always given Mr. Davis props for his manner, style and grace. In fact, had you actually read my piece in Scallywag you would understand that my narrow critique of Mr. Davis and his ilk was not one born of jealousy or resentment towards his accomplishments in the world of fashion, but rather an acknowledgment that because of his status and platform which he utilized to great effect in support of the anti bullying movement, and also because he is perceived generally as a civic minded NewYorker that he might want to lend his voice to the civil rights issue of out time:The rising Police State and the use of excessive force by hypermilitarized police forces against unarmed citizens, of all walks of life, including members of the LGBT community.

Truth told, I am not GOD nor am I Santa Claus. Hence, how naughty or nice one is, is irrelevant to me. Our humanity and/or philanthropy are private matters. I did not render an indictment of Peter Davis’ compassion for his fellow man or whether or not he possessed a philanthropic bent or even whether or not he chooses to support Occupy Wall Street. Notably over 72% of New Yorkers support OWS and the pervasive movement is far more diverse than the mainstream media gives credit. The movement contains men, women, academics, intellectuals, writers, professors and teachers, professionals (including former finance people, lawyers and accountants), community leaders, union members, farmers and farm workers, the poor, the indigent and the homeless,  the unemployed and underemployed, so many nationalities and yes even members of the LGBT community are included therein. Undoubtedly someone who may indentify as gay, queer or transgender may have been impacted directly by the unnecessary violence administered. The dehumanization of any of our people based upon their being part of some undesirable sub-sect of humanity whether it is being poor or working class, gay or transgender or being less than fashionable and even unkempt, is beyond troubling. It is unacceptable.  This is what America looks like.

My expression of concern was rather narrow. As the so called “cool kids” at least in an urban metropolis in New York City, the Fashionable Gay Social Media Elites have an impact on what a wide swath of folks see as trendy, cool and even important. Truth is more people know who is Andy Cohen of Bravo TV than they know who was Walter Cronkite or Tim Russert and they likely listen to Andy Cohen more.

And while I understand that the editorial mission of neither Paper Magazine or Avenue Magazine is to cover movements contrary to the existing social order, media personalities such as Peter Davis (but not exclusively Peter Davis) have used their Facebook and Twitter accounts rather extensively, if not prolifically in the case of their support for anti-gay bullying legislation and gay marriage, while not offering similar concern or commentary when the evidence was overwhelming of the rise of Police brutality from Wall Street to UC Davis’ campus. Many have been all over the mainstream media elite already. And perhaps this is an unpopular angle to come after media elites, but I do so because I hope and expect more from those who have been themselves victims of oppression and a system that sought to marginalize their interests and their contributions to society. And yet even so I almost understand that espousing protections for a class of folks that the Corporatocracy seeks to marginalize and diminish, is not exactly helpful to holding on to one’s writing job, much less to gaining luxury sponsors for your Publisher.

The dehumanization of citizens is neither a gay or a straight issue, nor is it a Republican or Democratic issue, it is a human issue and we cannot stand by and allow for our fellow man to be dehumanized, not in America. As for me, in the word of Jane Jacobs:

“I do not know who this celebrity called Jane Jacobs is. It’s not me. You either do your work or you’re a celebrity; I’d rather do my work.”

I do not see myself as a celebrity or socialite. All I am and aspire to be is a citizen. And for that matter, attacks on the  self made publisher of Scallywag & Vagabond, Christopher Koulouris for his publishing my initial piece, are also misplaced,  even as it pertains to the preferred policy of  ‘Don’t Insult me without consulting me.’ For he aspires to be something else entirely, which is why he is a bit of a lone ranger out in blog land, and ironically we do not always find commonality on issues but only commonality on the need to discuss them.

Citizen Chris London.

Full interview at 60 Minutes website

The wife and son of Ponzi schemer Bernie Madoff gave their first interview to Morley Safer of 60 Minutes on Sunday evening, October 30th.  Also joining the duo was their  ‘Black Umbrella’, Catherine Hooper, the founder of the aptly named disaster preparedness enterprise, who is engaged to and been living with Andrew Madoff in luxury condominium in one of the toniest zip codes on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.  The irony that these monsters came out on Halloween eve should not be lost on anyone. They were there to promote their con job and the book ‘Truth & Consequences: Life Inside the Madoff Family’. Hooper was reportedly the driving force behind publication of the book written by hand picked author Laurie Sandell.  It is based on interviews with Ruth, Andrew and the visually delectable and publicity oriented - Ms. Hooper.

The Media Whores who were ‘laying it on thick’ (with claims of a suicide pact and depression) in an effort to pull another  fast one on the American public, may have just have provided anecdotal evidence of their complicity in the fraud. After this interview, many Americans, including rightfully angry and vigilant Madoff fraud victims like Ilene Kent, will have the right to continue to believe that the Madoff Sons and their mother had full knowledge of and were participants in the monstrous fraudulent scheme along with other members of The MCF –Madoff Crime Family including Peter and Shana Madoff and key beneficiary, Philanthropic Fraud, Jeffrey Picower.  And then they continued on their circuit to Matt Lauer live on Halloween:

According to Andrew, Ruth’s first question was  ‘What’s a “Ponzi scheme?’ Come again? If you did not hesitate for even a moment when you heard that, let’s back up for a second here. Ruth was a math wiz who graduated from Queens College where she majored in Business Administration & Finance. She was working on Wall Street before Bernie Madoff.  In fact, biographers have detailed how Bernie was studying law at Brooklyn Law School before he dropped out to join his ambitious young wife on the street.  Ruthie went to Wall Street for similar reasons as Willie Sutton who was once asked why he robbed banks, famously answered, “Because That’s Where The Money Is.”  Let’s just say Ruthie knew where the money was.  According to reports, she was her husband’s bookkeeper, which it turns out required one to be a Chef as well.  Queens College may not be Harvard but it is a fine institution, hence I find it very hard to believe that the little mathematical wiz managing/cooking her husband’s books had no idea what was a Ponzi Scheme.

“And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him….”

Bible, Revelation 6:8 quoted by Milton William Cooper

The ‘NYPD is at the forefront of the Police State’, according to one commentator.  We are witnessing At ‘the hour of our time’, the post 9/11 militarization of the New York Police Department force. As part of this militarization,  the NYPD has had their ranks infiltrated by a higher order, integrated within its cast of civil servants, a not so secret police that are in effect ‘Super Police’ with seemingly unlimited powers.  As the anonymous have asked, are you  there to serve and protect or will you be the instruments of an oppressive system?  The evidence that has emerged from Occupy Wall Street thus far seems to confirm the latter.  What one can gather from the evidence which has made its way to the mainstream media on shows like Lawrence O’Donell’s – The Last Word on MSNBC, suggests that like veritable ‘Gorilla’s in the Midst’ the role of NYPD’s white shirted Enforcers (’Stasi’) and their undercover counterparts is to to stamp out any lawful uprising by citizens against the system to insure that a full fledged revolution does not take hold. If they have to incite aggression or knock-out, beat with a baton or pepper spray peaceful protesters,  the ends seem to justify the means. The  the culprits not only seem lacking of any remorse but nor are  they at risk of facing any meaningful punishment.

It is increasingly clear that the NYPD Enforcers are empowered by an agenda, not so much by the rule of law and the violation of constitutional rights of individual citizens merely a byproduct.  Further troubling indeed are the unnecessary arrests of Naomi Wolf (author, journalist and activist), Dr. Cornel West and the recent arrests at Citibank as documented by citizen Marshall Garrett, which he spoke about in an interview with the Village Voice. They all illustrate a common theme.

According to the Guardian which reported on Naomi Wolf’s arrest:

“Then, a huge group of men in white shirts, who seem to be affiliated to the New York police department, but who are not self-evidently so – bigger and fitter than the rank-and-file blue-shirted officers – came in droves. About 30 or 40 of these men appeared.

“They got a megaphone – which the protesters are told is illegal – and they started shouting that we were illegally disrupting an event and we should disperse.”

There have been ‘growing concerns over NYPD’s counterterrorism methods’, specifically within NYPD Intelligence Division & Counter-Terrorism Bureau.   Many may not realize that the the NYPD was restructured and recomposed for the post 9/11 world to the tune of over $3 Billion dollars of taxpayer money.    With regards to the ‘NYPD’s CIA Influenced Spying Program’, author  Jeffrey Goldberg,  in a piece for the Atlantic stated: “Since the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks, the New York Police Department has become one of the nation’s most aggressive domestic intelligence agencies, targeting ethnic communities in ways that would run afoul of civil liberties rules if practiced by the federal government, an Associated Press investigation has found. These operations have benefited from unprecedented help from the CIA, a partnership that has blurred the line between foreign and domestic spying.”

The hyper militarized police force is waging an aggressive and unlawful campaign of trickery and deception directly at citizens of the United States of America who are merely engaged in their right to peacefully assemble in the Occupation of  Wall Street.  The NYPD continues to employ advanced surveillance techniques against suspected dissidents, has use of its own drones to protect New York City harbor and a professional squad of ex military, CIA, undercover agents and professional warriors  integrated within its ranks.  Blackwater anyone? But was this to create a counter-terrorism shield against terrorism? Or is it something more sinister? Perhaps to be a force effective at punishing those who dare rise up and question the system or challenge America’s  Financial Oligarchy? As pointed out by one Huffpo writer: “Sending in the riot police violates the very principles upon which this country was founded and any individual with responsibility for ordering such action should be removed from office (and given a copy of the Constitution on the way out the door).” And as she correctly further states about the tactics used in Oakland,  “Using rubber bullets, tear gas and flash grenades against unarmed civilians is the public safety threat, not the other way around. “

The Super Rich Prepared Themselves

A new Congressional Budget Office (CBO) study — TRENDS IN THE DISTRIBUTION OF HOUSEHOLD INCOME BETWEEN 1979 AND 2007 –based on IRS and Census stats illustrates rather clearly how significantly the gap has widened between the top 1% of the population and the rest of the country. The vast growing inequality in the wealth and income of Americans is hardly news, the cause of great anxiety even though it is ‘destroying America’.  We have been forewarned of the consequence  of our skewed policy through research, data and opinion pieces every where from  The Economist, PBS, Slate, The Nation to Vanity Fair and learned professorial class of folks like Robert Reich, Nobel Prize winning economists and NY Times Op-Ed columnist Paul Krugman.  Business Insiders and  even leading Conservatives like David Frum have acknowledged that ‘our enemies may be right’. Mike Bloomberg famously predicted on the eve of commencement of Occupy Wall Street that there would be riots in the street if economic conditions did not improve.

This was no secret. With the greatest disparity between the 1% and 99% in the free world existing in America of all places, the elite knew that this day was coming.   America’s Aristocracy began preparing in earnest for this day over the last decade or so. In recent years as the wealth gap and income inequality in America continued they began fortifying their positions economically through their  financial holdings, their security through investments in supporting the militarization of law enforcement and control of politicians, building private bunkers and securing themselves in gated communities behind high tech security systems. So you ask why was militarization of law enforcement (CIA, white shirt enforcers and undercover strongmen) such a critical element of their preparations? To secure the homeland against another terrorist attack?

Or maybe to be a watchful eye insuring that the Blue Shirts to “do the right thing”?  Yes, it all makes sense to me now.

Behold A Pale Horse; the one that is here to ’serve and protect’ us.

The summer sun is fading as the year grows old
And darker days are drawing near
The winter winds will be much colder
Now you’re not here

I WATCH the birds fly south across the Autumn sky
And one by one they DISAPPEAR
I wish that I was flying WITH them
Now you’re not here

In the days since my mother’s (Virginia Bernadette Saunig-Roche) departure I have found myself listening more on my iPhone to the musicians, bands and singers whose tunes remind me most of her, especially to what I recall her listening to while I was growing up in New York City. The sun of Indian Summer shines brightly during Fashion Week in my hometown but for me, it seems like Autumn has already passed and “all the leaves are brown and the sky is gray”. The sound of The Mamas and the Papas radiated through our home in the late 60’s and early 1970’s whenever my parents had company.

In the quiet of the night or in the relaxing moments when she briefly seemed to have a moment to enjoy “The Good Life”, and truth told those moments were rare for her in the early days given the demands of raising four boys. But even so, whereas many preferred Tony Bennett and Frank Sinatra, my mother, ever the purist, preferred the crooning of Dean Martin. And that was fine with me because I never tired of watching Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin films. Yet at that point, I hardly realized how serious a singer he was until my mother reminded me so. Just the other night, I was making some Pork Chops Pizzaiaola so appropriately playing in the background, the sound of Dean singing “when the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that’s amore” bounced off the kitchen walls and I just pictured my mom’s smile filling the room sipping on a glass of Chianti while she put the final touches on a meal that usually had our mouths watering for hours before we, meaning my brothers and me, actually got to sit down and consume it like a hungry pack of wolves.

Today at work I had to fight back tears which left my eyes perpetually moist throughout the day as memories of her at various stages of her life filtered through my brain in a random non sequential order. I hear Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons reminding me, especially since I am in the mixed company of folks at work, to “Walk Like A Man.” And I chuckle on the inside remembering how she had to pick me up off the ice several times during trips to skate in Central Park.

Today, however, I found myself quite moody and definitely blue so it was rather appropriate to dial in the Moody Blues in the early afternoon. And immediately, memories of a Christmas in my adolescence flash in my brain. The earliest gift of music I received from Santa Claus (i.e., my mother and father) was an album from the Moody Blues. The first song I recalled listening to repeatedly was “Nights in White Satin.” It was the first musical band that I developed an affinity for and still listen to a great deal even today. As the seasons change and during the midst of fundamental societal shifts, the lyrics seem to have continuing applicability.

The Moody Blues speak to me.

Isn’t life strange
A turn of the page
Can read like before
Can we ask for more?
Each day passes by
How hard man will try?
The sea will not wait

You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry -
Wished I could be in your heart
To be one with your love
Wished I could be in your eyes
Looking back there you were, and here we are.

Isn’t love strange
A word we arrange
With no thought or care
Maker of despair
Each breath that we breathe
With love we must weave
To make us as one
You know it makes me want to cry, cry, cry

And even so I have so many questions still, Mom,

It’s not the way that you say it
When you do those things to me.
It’s more the way that you mean it
When you tell me what will be.

And when you stop and think about it
You won’t believe it’s true.
That all the love you’ve been giving
Has all been meant for you.

But I know that you would tell me mother:

Why do we never get an answer
When we’re knocking at the door?
Because the truth is hard to swallow
That’s what the wall of love is for.

And that is why I will forever love you. On days like this when I feel quite weak and

I’m looking for someone to change my life.
I’m looking for a miracle in my life.
And if you could see what it’s done to me
To lose the the love I knew
Could safely lead me through.

I know that miracle will come soon. It always does…..

I know you’re out there somewhere
Somewhere, somewhere
I know I’ll find you somehow
Somehow, somehow

The mist is lifting slowly
I can see the way ahead
And I’ve left behind the empty streets
That once inspired my life

My brother Gregory reminds me of the song that is resonating with him since my mother, may she RIP, passed earlier this week.  It is a song by The Intruders out of Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love so I have to show my brother a little love and post what is going through his soul these days.  I could write a long winded blog, but instead I recommend that you just click on the YouTube version, listen and love your mama some more whether she is still with you or she has passed on. Thank you Gregory. For those of you who are interested, the lyrics are below. The lyrics are subtle and yet symbolic of the so many little things our heroes, our mothers, do for us every day which we may often over look or take for granted.

I’ll always love my mama
She’s my favorite girl
I’ll always love my mama
She brought me in this world

Sometimes I feel so bad
When I think of all the things I used to do
How mama used to clean somebody else’s house
Just to buy me a new pair of shoes

I never understood how mama
Made it through the week
When she never ever got
A good night’s sleep

(Talking ’bout mama)
Oh, she’s one of a kind
(Talking ’bout mama)
You got yours, and I got mine
(Talking ’bout mama)
Ah, Hey mama
Hey mama
My heart belongs to you
Oh, yeah

I’ll always love my mama
She’s my favorite girl
You only get one
You only get one, yeah
I’ll always love my mama
She brought me in this world

Hmm, A mother’s love’s so special
It’s something that you can’t describe
It’s the kind of love that stays with you
Until the day you die
She taught me little things
Like saying hello, and thank you, please
While scrubbing those floors on her bended knees

(Talking ’bout mama)
Oh, she’s one of a kind
(Talking ’bout mama)
You got yours, and I got mine
(Talking ’bout mama)
Hey mama,
Hey mama,
My heart belongs to you
Oh, yeah

I’ll always love my mama, yeah
She’s my favorite girl
You only get one
You only get one, yeah
I’ll always love my mama
She brought me in this world

Hmmm, I’m talking ’bout mama
(I’ll always love my mama)
My sweet old mama
(I’ll always love my mama)
Used to scrub the floor
(I’ll always love my mama)
While hanging on to me
(I’ll always love my mama)
Used to get up in ropes of time
(I’ll always love my mama)
Oh, mama
(I’ll always love my mama)
Yeah, sweet old mama
(I’ll always love my mama)
Tell you, I love you, I love you, I love you
(I’ll always love my mama)
Yeah, yeah

-I’ll Always Love My Mama by The Intruders (1973)

Virginia B. Saunig

One of my fondest memories of my mother was getting up early before school to find her at the kitchen table drinking her morning coffee with several newspapers scattered in front of her. My mother prepared for me Tea & Toast and sometimes two soft boiled eggs, if I desired them. When I asked my mother why she read several newspapers instead of just her favorite one, my high school educated mother stated rather emphatically “you have to get some different perspectives on what is happening in the world.”  To this day, as I attempt to analyze and write about the world around me and my experiences in it, the lesson she taught me so early on is what keeps me evolving as a human being and as a citizen. She instilled in me the idea that there was always another layer to what you might accept as your own personal truth.

As the years passed, and I graduated from Sheepshead Bay High School, no matter how far I advanced my High School educated mom always had some wisdom, experience or perspective that would often make me stop literally in my tracks and wonder why all that time at Boston University and the University of Pennsylvania Law School had given me so many intellectual blind spots. She would joke that she got an advanced degree at the ‘School of Hard Knocks’ and boy did she ever.  She often rather humbly joked that I was the educated one and that all she really had was common sense; the type which was necessary to survive in a complicated world.

Years later after a horrible break up with a woman I hoped to marry left me shattered, confused and lost, my mom asked me two simple questions.  ”Christopher, after you get done crying, what are you going to do?”  I looked at her in a bewildered fashion. Was she really that heartless? And then she probed further and stated in a somewhat hesitant fashion “You know that girl seems to have everything she needs in life and you keep giving her more and yet she is still not happy. Did you ever stop to consider that maybe it is not your job in life to make her happy?” I sat alone in my stepfather’s den looking at the ceiling literally stupified how she seemed to say so little but change the whole trajectory of how I looked at the world.

Again a few years later, when I found myself distraught and dispirited after a business failure in the post 9/11 economy, I called her for assistance as I felt ready just to give up. This time I was not crying but by the tone of my voice I might as well have been. Again, she asked, “when you get done feeling bad for yourself, what are you going to do? You still have two arms, two legs, you are healthy, strong and educated, do you realize how lucky you are relative to all the other folks who have fallen down and may never get back up?”  I said well mom, I may lose my residence. You are all the way in Florida.  I may end up homeless. What would I do?  ”I guess you would go to a Homeless Shelter, get a job, start saving your money again and when you have enough get a small place or an apartment share.” To this day, I love her more for not giving me an easy out when deep down I knew she wanted to.

Out of the blue a friend, my former Pilates instructor offered me a deal in exchange to help her with some personal matters ironically enough close by to where my mom grew up in Chelsea.  I could have use of her spare bedroom until I got back on my feet. When I was finally getting back on my feet, I asked her how do I repay you? I do not have the resources to do much. She said, some day someone will reach out to you when you are in a similar position to me.  Don’t turn away from them. If you have food, a shoulder or a space for them to lay down on and rest their weary bones, you will know what to do. I sat there with my Tea & Toast contemplating the synergy of feminine wisdom that had infused my life and reinvigorated my passion for getting beyond life’s challenges. Throughout my life in some troubling moments, select strong women have appeared randomly, people who my mother would likely have enjoyed meeting, and served as reminders of what is possible so I might no longer consider them impossible.

When I visited with my mother for an extended stay recently, my mom’s grace was self evident even while her time on this earth was clearly coming to a close. She seemed more worried by those around her who she thought were making too much of a fuss and too many sacrifices for her.  She was always more worried about someone else more  than herself.

The Son of A Heroic Woman

Most of my life I know that I have been somewhat of a character, one that my family nevertheless found charming because I took ‘the road less traveled’. They, especially my mom, never bothered to remind me that maybe I ended up on that road by default because of my own imperfections and failings as a man.  Nobody likes an old Peter Pan.  My father’s demise helped me turn one corner in terms of emotional maturation. Yet, I was never really sure whether I had my mother’s respect because I had not built significantly on what she aspired for me. In many respects she believed in me more than I believed in myself. Her parting gift to me was subtle. My oldest brother reminded me shortly after I left her side in Florida that “Chris had grown up and become a good man, and she did not realize how good until she saw me again,” As a man all you ever want is the woman you most admire to think you are a good man.  Isn’t that what we live for? Whether I have achieved that status or not, my responsibility now is to be the type of man that honors the investment that my mother made in me. And if I do that all praise by to god and my mother. I am no hero but I am the son of one.

A Chelsea Girl Moves On

Today at 3 p.m. in Cape Coral, Florida, my mother Virginia Bernadette Saunig-Roche, who was born and raised in the Chelsea section of New York City,  and the daughter of Phillip and Dorothy Saunig, Americans of Austrian, German and Northern Italian descent, passed on. Virginia attended St. Columba Catholic School which was part of the Roman Catholic Church of St. Columba on West 25th Street.  She is survived by my step father James P. Roche and her four sons and two sisters. My mother had been residing in Cape Coral, Florida for more than a decade after living on Manhattan’s Upper East Side for more than fifteen years. At the time of her death, she was under excellent care at the Hope Hospice in Cape Coral, Florida. She passed while she was sleeping. Thanks to the humanistic work of folks at Hope Hospice my mom went on into the next world in a peaceful and dignified manner. May she Rest in Peace.

My mom was one who always wanted to learn something from every experience in life. Over Tea & Toast, she taught me how to learn and she taught me how to survive.

There is never a good time to lose a loved one, but there are better ways to go than others. My mother passed on while sleeping with her beloved husband and my stepfather, James P. Roche by her bedside at the Hope Hospice. Given her humble roots and her life’s dream to spend her golden years on the waterfront in Florida, I am pleased and relieved that she did not go in anything less than a loving environment in a dignified manner and with the love of the daughter she always wanted tending to her daily, her close friend Lorrie Robinson.

End Care in America: A Vital Concern

Masked in the Health Care debate is what we do about our aging population. End Care is a vital concern.  Given the state of our country and the existing Health Care system, my rational fear is that many of our loved one will not leave this earth with the dignity that they deserve. A compassionate society must allow those who have contributed so much to sustaining it move on with honor.  The Hospice Community deserves your attention and philanthropy. The Hospice community exists largely on the generosity of some of Society’s most significant philanthropists, many of whose names I perused over on the walls of the Hope Hospice in Cape Coral, Florida

While I am comforted that my mother will RIP thanks to the humanistic and yeoman work of the good folks at Hope Hospice, many others may not be so fortunate.  The lesson for me is not just to honor my mother’s life, the lessons she taught that enable my own existence but to also use what I learned and what I observed in her last hours to implore those who may not be focused on end care for the aging, to consider making philanthropic contributions to end care facilities like Hope Hospice so that more of our citizens can move on with dignity and honor.

To the philanthropically inclined, I merely ask when you  explore making philanthropic investments consider doing so in the local Hospice community whether you are in Cape Coral, Palm Beach, the East End of Long Island (see East End Hospice),   New York City, Texas, California, New England or another part of this country.

Mothers Are Ordinary Heroes

My mother, Virginia was a woman who from her humble working class roots, equipped herself sufficiently to move her offspring forward to experiencing a greater view and understanding of the world. Many look for heroes or role models to follow in the popular culture, athletes, TV Stars et al etc.  Perhaps if a few more of us recognized the glory of ordinary people who do extraordinary things, including in how they raise their children, we need look often no further than our mothers, fathers, teachers, firefighters, policeman, doctors and nurses etc.

I will find my peace in my mother’s dignified treatment in passing in the quiet of her sleep and my ability to celebrate the life of an ordinary American who had reverence for her god, a passionate patriotism for her country, an unrelenting commitment to her children, her husband, her sisters, a special love for god’s four legged creatures as well as consideration for those less fortunate even during her darkest hours.

To those who read this, I hope your loved ones and friends may find the same comfort when their time comes to pass on as my mother did at the Hope Hospice.  Support the Hospice Community.  If you love me and wonder what you can do for me or my family at this time and have loved ones yourself, find a Hospice to support. You may also make a donation in my mother’s name: Virginia Bernadette Saunig-Roche. The information you need is referenced below:

Hope Hospice
2430 Diplomat Parkway East
Cape Coral, FL 33909-5405
(239) 574-4888
web: http://www.hopehospice.org/
Contact:  John Strickling, e-mail: john.strickling@hopehospice.org

God Bless you all. Peace.

I turned to the New York Post on Thursday, August 11^th and read a piece entitled ‘I’m a Hamptons house ho!’ which discussed the cliché of women martyring themselves sexually at the hands of men with beachfront homes or at least those close in proximity to the shore at the tony enclave on the East End of Long Island. The article led with featured commentary by a certain hyper social middle aged New Yorker by the name of Cass Almendral, the managing director of a firm called Wall Street Solutions, Group, Inc., who owns a home he runs as a share house in Southampton. In the piece Cass brags:

“If you own a house, you’re at a huge advantage,” he says. “That’s why I’m single. Every summer I can have a huge adventure.”

Today my email box was greeted with a dissection of the foregoing piece by social critic at large Christopher Koulouris of the blog Scallywag & Vagabond who offered more analysis on the cliché which was actually rather humorously and accurately written about previously by Candace Bushnell in her book Four Blondes. Unlike others, I am not so shocked that some women are willing or at least pragmatic enough, especially in a down economy, to trade their vagina or at least interim access to it for the chance to live the Hamptons experience. A summer at the beach for a few minutes a weekend frolicking in the nude with a ‘two pump chump’ who has more passion for his Porsche and being seen with the appropriate arm candy to create the appearance of or at least guarantee being perceived as a stud by fellow Alpha Males, than actually being one and truly catering to a woman’s needs? Hmm, that might actually  not so much work after all.  Let’s see how many of these guys still have any of these young ladies hanging around ALD (“after Labor Day”) when they leave you for the dude with his own Jet or an open account with Blue Star Jets and off shore assets and property in the Cayman Islands or friends at Vogue with prized tickets and back stage passes to Fashion Week.

Putas y Cabrones

My question is who is truly ‘the ho’, the more desperate dude or the pragmatic female networking for a summer at the shore among the gilded classes, rather than remaining in her claustrophobic digs in Hells Kitchen, in a down economy?

As stated by my friend Nicole (a successful professional married woman):

It’s funny, I went to Ruschmeyer’s in Montauk a few weeks back. I wanted to poke my eyes out (probably because I’m pregnant and sober!). The scene there is so stupid. Sure there are beautiful girls but half of them are looking to cash in on some sugar daddy-that is whorish! Whatever happened to being a strong independent woman making your own moola?

Nicole makes a fair point but in fairness to the ladies,  this ‘Half-Hooker Economy’ and the growing economic inequality has turned many to sex work to make ends meet. Let’s be frank, there really is not a legitimate career opportunity in America for everyone who wants one. I have met out and about in this town accidentally at places like Lavo, Tao, the Four Seasons Bar along with  some of New York’s top steakhouses and places where men of means gather, women who have advanced degrees and speak multiple foreign languages who have found that their best asset is their ass.

Nevertheless, I am tired of these cliché double standards.  So the girls are Hamptons House Ho’s but WTF does that make men like Cass?   How is he distinguished from the guy BUYING a happy ending massage,  lap dances or hiring an escort? I mean seriously, give some of these guys a fist full of hundreds in a whore house and frankly I am not so sure how they would fare.  I suspect that they might not find those odds sufficiently in their favor,  without copious amounts of booze, a beach house and a pool.

But if you are using financial leverage to purchase interim love (’transactional romance’), call it what it is, bro. Quien es la puta real? Comprendes cabrone? You will excuse me but, I love the irony of douche-bags who in effect buy sex (in above board romantic negotiations) from compliant women and then have the temerity to refer to the women as ho’s. Don’t knock the women for using ‘the power of the pussy’ because a good one is probably the finest thing a man will ever lay his lips on, in this or any life.  When it opens before you, respect it. As for your pinga pequena, I am not so sure. If you do nothing less than honor the women that serve you, you are an even more pathetic loser. If you doubt my belief in the freedom to engage in transactional romance without double standards or judgments, read  this interview I did with Luke Ford in 2005.  If we are all commoditizing ourselves than the negotiation between men and women is simply one to find an agreement on terms.

George Soros: A Billonaire’s Blues

The New York Post recently announced that that 28 year old Adriana Ferreyr, a former lover of Billionaire financier and philanthropist, George Soros has filed a $50 million dollar lawsuit against him. According to the report, the Brazilian soap opera star who reportedly dated George Soros for five years has accused Soros, of breaking her heart and going back on his promise to give her an Upper East Side apartment worth $1.9 million as a gift.

I do not even want to comment in great detail about the nature of the case because I know little of what the true facts of the case actually are, nor do I care to receive a phone call from Soros attorney William Zabel. All I will say, is when you are 80 years old, worth $14.5 Billion dollars and have the good fortune of receiving love, affection and sensual companionship from a young lass a quarter your age, get down on your knees and thank  god every day for your blessing. Then take care of her financially for you truly have no comprehension of the work entailed for a beautiful young lady to have a octogenarian climbing all over her — for 5 years.  If she had little or no shame in French kissing a geriatric on a semi-regular basis or exchanging bodily fluids with you then you should have little issue with ponying up a generous donation to her favorite cause, her veritable survival in this metropolis.  Consider that you can be a philanthropist, a patron of the arts, especially if she is an artiste.

Now if it was me, and were I in Soros’ position, all I know is that young lady regardless of whether we were still dating would likely have an apartment on the Upper East Side by now and would not be suing me. In fact, she might be on her knees offering me her thanks, not having me served by her attorney Robert Hantman. And for those who may argue about the  relative value of someone’s time, energy and personal services tendered and dismiss relationships between older men and younger women, all I will say is the following and you can quote me on it:

I have met women close to my own age who have not evolved and are stuck in a time warp and I have met women half my age who have reminded me what the purpose is of life on this planet.

So how do you place a proper value a woman’s youthful exuberance in terms of what it brings to your life? And if your resources are bountiful, why would choose to nickel and dime someone who will generously share their feminine spirit with you?  Why unleash allegations that make her look like a two-bit whore after spending five years with her? To me it makes no sense.

Soros Hires William Zabel – Attorney to Madoff Insider & RICO Suspect Jeffrey Picower

I might seem to contradict myself here but make no mistake I pass no judgments on the right of men and women to freely contract with one another in matters which I refer to as transactional romance.  My only judgment is that when beautiful women are generous with their affection, especially with men much older than them,  men should  be more realistic about the compromise undertaken by the young lady to enable your happiness and your sexual satisfaction.  Arguments over wooden nickels and relative pennies of your net worth are foolish. Be  realistic about the relative value of your assets, the needs of those who you mate with, even if it is on an interim basis. Sure, there are those who may pose a risk of being excessively greedy and take you to the cleaners leaving you destitute but that is the rare case. Nevertheless, there truly is little or no reason for a young lady you have had a May to September romance with to have to walk away feeling less for the experience with you. Let her go in style and not with her last memories of you through the eyes of your shark attorney (who notably was counsel to alleged Bernie Madoff Fraud Insider, Jeffrey Picower who after a rather curious investment career and activities which may have opened him up to prosecution under RICO as a ‘Racketeer’ and attempt to establish a legacy as a philanthropist was found dead in his pool in Palm Beach before he could have been subjected to a prosecution as a ‘Racketeer’.  His estate  was subsequently forced to forfeit $7.2 billion to the Department of Justice in a rather curiously worded settlement) shredding her to pieces. Is that really money well spent?

Call me naive, but even if I were to accept at that age that a beautiful young lady might be able to love me as a father figure for my wisdom, life experience and the financial security I offer,  I would know at least in my mind that she could be in the company of the youthful male fantasy equivalent but for my generosity.  I would be grateful for her sacrifice. Maybe only briefly would I harbor the illusion that it was my masculine prowess and the look of an aging geriatric that turned her on sexually. And yes, maybe I would build a fortress to secure her but not one which caged, controlled or confined her feminine spirit.

Youthful feminine beauty is a dangerous aphrodisiac if you cannot afford it.  But if you can, let’s be realistic, for the relative cost, whether you are a millionaire who own a Hamptons home or a Billionaire several times over the cost is negligible and not something which a woman generous of spirit should have to humiliate herself for or have you or your attorneys refer to as a whore or a financial extortionist when you are ‘finished’ with her.

There is a reason why the dog is a man’s best friend. The man feeds the dog, pets the dog and loves the dog.  He does not try to get inside the dog’s head to figure out what the dog needs to self actualize. He leaves open the escape hatch at the bottom of the kitchen door  to the backyard and the outside world and let’s the dog come and go as he or she pleases. The dog will eventually figure out what he needs. The dog always returns for more food and unquestioned love.

There is a lesson here for men, and that is regardless of whether the female object of your affection resembles your favorite pet, the dog or is actually more like a sleek cat, you need to evolve and accept that in certain matters she can take care of herself. You are not lacking in a chivalrous spirit if you leave her be and do not seek to assist, control or make easier that which she needs to find or determine for herself. And if she returns to back up into you, doggie-style is acceptable.

Listen to her, for sure. Love her, absolutely. Pet her? Well if she likes it, but you may just want to ask first and get her perspective on public displays of affection as long as they are genuine and not based on a desire to foster your own image as a Don Juan, Casanova or Pick Up Artist, for others.

But know, the job of self actualization is all hers. Leave her be, keep the escape hatch open, let her come and go as she pleases and she will figure out what she needs and go get it herself.

Your role?  Simply love her upon her return. As for the so called battle of the sexes, “Sex and the City” cliches about romance and ‘What Women Want’ and/or figuring out how best to come to  the aid or rescue of damsels in distress, ……fugghedabout it!  Just get some sleep, focus on your career, your health –go to the gym, your own personal evolution as a man and remember to simply love her upon her return. Accept that most of what you see in the pop cultural realm is but a fairy tale and television shows which serve as infomercials for the Fashion Industry, including luxury shoe brands like Jimmy Choo. If you are like me or most men, you probably had no idea what a Jimmy Choo was before that show or before Tara Mellon became a billionaire, right?  It is a caricature which distorts the actual dialogue between the sexes in this town or would could be the dialogue. And unless you fancy yourself as a tormented Mr. Big, it is truly not worth buying into. And I make no judgments about ‘transactional romance’ and that includes guys using their primary assets  to leverage love from  ‘Hamptons House Ho’s’ for outdated double standards are not my frame of reference.   But if you are using financial leverage to purchase interim love, call it what it is, bro and don’t desecrate the reputation of those you transact with. Quien es la puta real? Comprendes cabrone? If you do anything less than honor  the women that serve you with their feminine charms, you are a pathetic loser.

Equality and the women’s liberation movement, is in the end, actually far more empowering for men,  if you allow it to be. The foregoing being said you are still not alleviated of the necessity to remain a gentleman, for that is never out dated.  Less is more.