Coming up, a Sarah Palin fumigation. So, take that, mean ex-almost- son-in-law Levi with the big mouth, who’s looking to get into show business. The book, by the Weekly Standard writer Matthew Continetti, published by Sentinel, drops on us come April. The title, which seems longer than Alaska’s ex-Gov. spent at the presidential convention, is “The Persecution of Sarah Palin and the Liberal War Against Red America.”
The writer calls it “the real story of the Republican vice presidential nominee and her collision with the elite liberal media.” An instant phenom, many even non-Inuits responded to Palin’s charm, ambition, political talent and passion for hockey-mom values. But, he says, what followed was: “an unprecedented attack from the media.”
It’s always our fault, right? Always the media. Even if you cheat on your wife, sponsor dog fights, become a druggie, get into fights, shoot people — the story is always the media’s fault. This book throws around words like “malicious spin . . . deceit . . . liberal snobbery” and says, “Palin’s enemies decided nothing’s too personal to attack — including her marriage, children, faith, even her wardrobe.” And “almost every word out of her mouth was spun by the media as a ‘flub’ . . . the media distorted Palin’s positions and beliefs beyond recognition.” The media again, right?
This writer must find it tough deciding does he want his steak rare, media or well-done.
LOOKING to schmooze Warren Buffett? Bring Cherry Coke. In China he bought two cases and schlepped one on his Guilin river cruise, then ran out. Not for all the tea in China would he go Cherry Cokeless. Reaching the Guilin Sheraton, he requested the other case be delivered mid-river. This fizz was then loaded into a Mercedes and driven two hours to the nearest point. There hotel exec Lloyd Donaldson found a biker, gave him 50 RMBs (Chinese currency — worth, by the way, more than ours, thank you) and took the bike with its precious cargo to the dock. But Buffet’s boat couldn’t anchor. The water was too shallow. For another 50 RMBs, the hotelier commandeered a fisherman’s bamboo raft and, in three-piece Armani, floated himself and a case of Cherry Coke to one of the world’s richest and thirstiest men.
Shots of this Slow Coke to China might hang in journalist Jesse Nash‘s photo show this week at the National Arts Club.
COULD you maybe have waked this morning and asked yourselves, “Selves, who invented the jigsaw puzzle?” Even if you didn’t ask, I’ll tell you because Hearst’s Ellen Levine partied Betsy Carter, who told me:
“My great-uncle, a New Yorker who had 75 patents, created the jigsaw puzzle, sold them 50 cents apiece, made a fortune during the Depression, got my parents out of Germany in 1936 and moved to Palestine to fund Zionism. Based on that, I pored over my family’s old photo albums — Time had dubbed him ‘The Puzzle King’ — did tons of research at the Yivo Institute, made up the rest and spent 2½ years writing my new novel ‘The Puzzle King.’ Movie people are now looking at it.”
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EATHER Tom of “The Bold and the Beautiful,” multiple Emmy winner, schlepped in from our westernmost frontier for her first Fashion Week. Wildly excitedly, she said: “I went all day every day, hit all the parties, even walked in ‘Runway’ designer Ra’mon-Lawrence Coleman‘s show and got myself an early McQueen-type girly party dress, short, tight bodice, full skirt, a little retro and very me.
“In SoHo, even three ladies from Italy recognized me and called me Katie, that’s my character’s name, and wanted to take a photo. Being in New York, this international city, is so great.
“I come from a very show business group. My sister was on ‘The Nanny,’ my brother’s on ‘Young and the Restless,’ where I started at 15 and is produced by the Bells who also own ‘Bold and the Beautiful,’ which I then went on and still am 18 years later.
“I’m like a gypsy. My family’s in Chicago, my heart’s in New York, my job’s in LA. I live in a 1920s Spanish-style castle. I’m with one musician guy 12 years. We’re not married. I mean, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. We’re together longer than most people I know are married.”
We hung up three days ago, but sweet, bubbly, nonstop Heather is probably still talking to me.
PETER, Paul and Mary’s Mary Travers stopped singing forever this week. In 2006, she told me: “I doubt I’ll be around much longer. It’s been a terrible year. I had a bone marrow transplant. That was hard, but at least it made my age spots go away. And the donor’s name is also Mary. She has two daughters. I have two daughters. Look, one minute you’re at the backstage door, the next minute you’re at death’s door. I’m not going to do lots from now on but, whatthehell, I’m already an old broad so . . . ”
TUESDAY. Elegant 40ish blonde flash ing gold lame hot pants, thigh-high suede boots, 18-karat Rolex, crocodile Givenchy tote. Checking her BlackBerry. And where was she? On the subway. The D train.
Only in New York, kids, only in New York.