The hubristic shrine to journalism, the Newseum, is in dire financial rigor mortis having sqandered a nearly one-billion dollar endowment in breathtaking time. This is why, Al Jazeera. Frank Gannett must be weeping in his grave.
It’s Ben Rhodes, not Rhoades, as spelled in the article.
His master’s degree is in fiction writing. Isn’t that just perfect? The Cairo speech, the rewritten Bengazi memo — pure fiction. His brother, David, is president of ABC news.
In the 1980’s, I was slaving away, sort of, as a bartender in a very hip, pricey Washington DC restaurant with other pretty, college-educated, young-but-aging, smarty-pants women who waited the wobbly, freesia’d, linen’d tables for tips while pursuing important artsy, intellectual interests by day. We were cool, smart, attractive and complete losers in the shark-infested, DC dating pool. Pretty faces, broken hearts, all of us. Over and over again.
One night, I noticed that the ordinary women in that hot restaurant kitchen that we all avoided, the women inventing new, seductive feasts every evening, were all happily married. Married to really nice men. Handsome, manly men. Could it be true? The way to a man’s heart...?
I started quizzing these patient women about how they dressed these delicious salads I’d been enjoying. What’s the sauce on the salmon? How did you prepare these steaks?
It’s true. Once I began cooking for the men in my life, anathema to most women of my stupid demographic, the long desired pronouncements of love and offers of marriage materialized. I enjoyed cooking and realized its primal value to myself and men. Yum!
Education occurs anywhere, everywhere. Screw college. Be nice and cook well.