Short Attention Span Column

A collection of musings, random observations and curmudgeonly bon mots, all served piping hot.Actress Kathleen Turner is shaking up audiences in the London production of "The Graduate" by strutting around stage bareass naked. The 45-year old actress is portraying the seductive Mrs. Robinson. So, answer me this: Kathleen Turner peels off all her clothes in front of a room full of strangers and it's hailed as a theatrical triumph; I do it and I'm banned from Johnny Rockets for life. Where's the justice?Fresh off their wildly successful "Innocent as O. J." national book tour, devastated parents John and Patsy Ramsey say they've been overwhelmed by fan response. And knowing the importance of striking while the iron is hot, the grief-stricken but still media-savvy couple, hope to soon be auctioning off some of JonBenet's sparkly little pageant dresses on eBay. A fragrance launch is also in the planning stages. I think it's fabulous how they've managed to get on with their lives in a classic lemons-to-lemonade conversion scenario.Whitney Houston delivers an unforgettable performance, even wrecked on peyote. Or, as the singer's publicist called it, "suffering from a bit of a sore throat." The diva, who has endured some personal embarrassments lately, including a pot scandal in Hawaii, being booted from the Oscars at the last minute and rambling, incoherent interviews, still tears the place up once she hits the stage. Sure, the people in the front row caught some splatter from her projectile vomiting between songs but that only added to the festive atmosphere. It was reminiscent of a Gallagher show.If you're anything like me, you'll agree that the music scene has never seemed so vibrant and just downright awesome since hunky teen boy bands began ruling the charts. Let's hope this trend continues for years to come. I was fortunate enough to meet one of the Backstreet Boys recently and it was quite a thrill. I don't remember the specifics of our conversation but he did say something that really hit home, something to the effect of, "Please don't cut me anymore. If you untie me and let me go now I won't say a word to the cops, I swear." Of course, I'm paraphrasing. But what a charmer.Note to Slyvester Stallone, who recently lost a three picture deal because of his waning box office clout: wise up, beefcake. America is clamoring for a sequel to your greatest screen triumph. It's time for "Stop or My Mom Will Shoot II." Give Estelle Getty a topless scene and your talking a record breaking opening week. It worked for Kathleen Turner.It's just one man's opinion, but wouldn't snuff films gain more mainstream acceptance if the killing blow was delivered by cuddly sock puppets, like the one from those commercials? Then it works on two levels.Good news, bad news for comedy aficionados. The bad news is Foster Brooks, bowing to the forces of political correctness, has abandoned his slobbering drunk act. Good news is, he now slings the yuks while pretending to be whacked out on crystal meth. And take it from someone who parties with bikers almost every weekend, Brooks' take as a surly, paranoid tweaker is bust-a-gut hilarious. Audiences in Branson are eating it up.And from our Miscellaneous file: I'm no theologian, but I'd bet real money that hell is eerily similar to a renaissance fair.If you've been working at the same job for over five years, why not storm into your boss's office and demand that they give you an enema? What are you afraid of? They can only say no, right?Color me curious but, if it's true that all you really needed to know you learned in kindergarten, why don't people walk into restaurants and order a paste and booger fajita?Whoever said "Love means never having to say you're sorry," apparently never got drunk and made a pass at his wife's mother.Unlike a lot of so-called liberals, I still give money to the homeless. But now I make them perform a traditional Irish step-dance to earn it.Whatever happened to courteous service in this country? It seems like nobody cares anymore. I can't tell you the number of times I walk out the door after making a purchase without getting so much as a "Have a nice day" from the hooker.And finally, take it from yours truly, here are the complete set of rules to live by: never play cards with a man named Doc, never eat at a place called Mom's, and never ever get a lap dance from a gal named Itchy.

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