Parisians and tourists attempting to keep cool near the Eiffel Tower on June 25, 2026. Jeanne Accorsini/SIPA/Shutterstock See more of our coverage in your search results.
Add The New York Post on Google In summer’s honeymoon Bill Diehl, formerly on ABC Radio, sent me “See,” a 1953 magazine he discovered. Besides the cover, it’s two pages about me. I’ll reprint one paragraph. Goes good with warm potato salad.
My husband Joey was big in the American Guild of Variety Artists, a similar organization here to Ronald Reagan’s Screen Actors Guild out West.
Our honeymoon was three months. Joey: “My agent came to see us off. He wants 10% of our wedding gifts.”
In London, he said: “All countries should drive on the left. You could knock off more communists that way.” In Paris: I shopped at Pierre Balmain and was halfway to Italy while he was still at Balmain bargaining. Rome: Feeling safe among the ruins he was happy there. Israel? A sheikh with 40 wives was shopping for another. When the sheikh said price was no object, I’m sure I saw Joey waver.
OK. So, it’s now summer. When all good wives go to the country and all good husbands go to their girlfriends.
One blond summer stock ingenue had five roles and seven affairs. Lousy actress but definitely the happiest. Forget becoming Sarah Bernhardt. Or even Piper Laurie. You wallpaper, scrub dressing rooms and build furniture. By September you can get work immediately. As a cabinet maker.
Summer theater was once in buildings. Now barns, haylofts, mud holes. Hogs graze within a pig’s knuckle of the stage. If the audience mumbles “stinks,” they’re right. Try smelling “Hamlet” in the round in Arkansas.
Occasionally a producer stumbles into a summer theater. The star thinks it’s her chance. Actually her figure’s her chance. Her ability was having starred in a Kentucky version of “Rain.” I mean, please. She wasn’t even a drizzle.
Onto other things. Like liberals wanting to fight. Wanting thousands of bodies in the sand over there. “Let’s go get them” replaces “give peace a chance.”
Israel also wants military action. Americans are confused. Iran executes dissenters. The situation changes hourly. The regime increased its army, began economic warfare, disrupted the Hormuz oil flow. Prices rose.
Iran’s last full nuclear assessment was soon after Donald’s first inauguration. He believes the mullahs are close to a nuclear weapon, and the mullahs refuse to allow access.
America’s pols use Iran’s nuclear ambitions to gain power. Iran could allow inspections but won’t. More turbulence lies ahead.
Comment from Dame Karen Pierce, former Brit ambassador to the USA: “Russians don’t need to send troops into the Balkans. They can dial up their levers through organized criminals. They want to disrupt the peace mostly because of it being a Western success.”
Jeff Koons: “I worked with inflatables back in the ’70s. I like inflatables because I think of us as humans and our balloon-like quality. We take a breath. That’s life’s energy. And our last breath is a symbol of death. I wanted my [next] something to be mythical. Like a Trojan horse. I wanted something archetypal related to our biology.”
Yeah, OK, so. Next perhaps they’ll be in the newly juiced up Saks Fifth — like alongside a bottle of Miss Dior toilet water, we’ll get a Trojan balloon horse that reeks of spruce. You can charge it.
Have a happy, patriotic July Fourth. Be grateful for God having given us this flag. This land. This nation. Sing God Bless Us praises to our United States of America. Where else you want to be? Venezuela? Syria? Ukraine? If you have a few minutes, we could run you over to downtown Congo. Or warm, friendly Sahara.
Do not burn the burgers, keep ants off the coleslaw, explain why the cubes have melted in the iced tea, sweep the sand off the beach blanket, try to help your aged Aunt Henrietta to the john four blocks away, see why your cellphone doesn’t work, thanks for reading this far, now drive safely and let’s talk again after July 4.
