What to say about David Letterman? Cad? Sexual harasser? Sugar daddy? All of the above. My head hurts. I’m struck by this unsourced gossip, via Defamer, which implies a gig working for Dave was win-win all around, if you didn’t mind occasional sexual service in return for having your law-school bill paid. For the record, I disapprove. For all the good that will do.
A man I know once told an approving anecdote about an ambitious female journalist who got a coveted job by sleeping with the right people, that this is the way of the world, who are we to judge, etc. Well, I’m judging. Consenting adults aren’t always co-equals, and the more comely young assistants there are in the world willing to do kneepads work with the boss in return for graduating from law school debt-free, the tawdrier the world gets. I’m not after a perfect one, just one a little less tawdry.
Whatever happens to Letterman is obviously up to his bosses. My guess is, he’ll survive and thrive. He has a lot of fans, and he’s good at his job. He’s no hypocrite; while he mines his personal life for material, he’s never claimed to be perfect.
Well, OK. Pals, this week has been brutal, and today dawned — if that’s the word for it — overcast, rainy and chilly. Which means it’s a perfect day to go to Costco and buy in bulk. Also, I’m looking forward to tonight, when I chaperone one of the middle-school dances our community is known for. I’ve been told by opposing parental camps that they are either a) fun affairs with lemonade; or b) dodgy dens of misbehavior approved of by short Polish-speaking film directors. I volunteered to help so I could see for myself, but I’m not expecting to see much beyond option A, above. If nothing else, it gives me yet another hammer to hang over a certain seventh-grader’s head: If you don’t do X, I will shake my booty on your dance floor. Talk about a motivator.
Now to do the crossword puzzle and try to beat Eric Zorn’s time. Have a great weekend, all.