Sunday Bloody NYT Sunday: Special How Do We Get A Christmas Card From John Waters Edition
Man, this Sunday's New York Times is a total drag. Some communist must have taken over the real estate section, because all we have are stories of people looking for co-ops in Bed-Stuy or some such nonsense. Not a single $20 million house story! UNFAIR. INPEACH NEW YORK TIMES. Oh well.
This week's paper does give us an interview with John Waters as he launches his Christmas show tour, and it is as wonderful as you'd expect. For all that he is a master of the weird, John Waters is about the best Christmas person possible.
<i>Wilson had a way with the ladies</i>
I don&#039;t think Wilson&#039;s problem was too much sexy-time. In 1914, old Woody found himself a lonely old widower after his first wife, Ellen, died in August. Less than a year later, he was engaged to the widow Edith Bolling Galt. Sounds rather ordinary, right? Not so fast. Unfortunately for Wilson, he was the President of the United States and therefore, much like Bamz, he had the civilized world constantly up his ass over every little thing he did. And, unfortunately for Wilson, that civilized world tended to frown upon getting hitched so soon after the death of his first wife. Predictably, it wasn&#039;t long before all sorts of rumors flew around about Wilson cheating on his first wife before she died and some people even suggested that he killed her to clear the path so he and Edith could be together. Damn.
Wilson was president, not some schmuck, and so he married Edith anyway, presumably while holding a giant middle finger aloft for all his critics to see. The couple stayed together until his death in 1924 and after Wilson suffered a stroke in 1919, Edith actually took over many of his duties, acting as sort of a regent for the incapacitated president. I guess that shut some people up.
John Waters had some good advice at a library conference I was attended: if someone doesn&#039;t have any books, don&#039;t fuck them.