My Break Up From CNN
I live in Europe. I do not have the Today Show and now that Mat has been banished, I guess I would not be watching it anyway. No ABC, NBC, CBS, and Thank God, no Fox. I was never political and I realize as a merchant/designer I should keep my views to myself. There seems to be an undenying fact that most creatives are Democrats and that is the pool I swim in and let me say, topless. My only contact with the news real or fake has been with CNN. I think it is really the Secret Press Office of the President. I think they and all other news agencies got him elected in the first place by giving him the never-ending publicity that they did and still do. I wonder how many times his name is used daily in television broadcasts nationally and internationally? I should ask Siri or Alexis. Are those girls related by the way?
We are creatures of habits or at least I am and every morning I would put on CNN to check in if the world was still intact. The news was repetitive, Trump, Trump, Trump, North Korea, and the continuing bombing of Syria. As far as I am concerned there is nothing left to bomb in Syria except the presidential palace, and why Bashar al Assad wants to live in a country that has no neighbors, no tourism or most important no Zara, I have no idea. For a while we had the exodus in Myanmar, the illegal immigrants drowning off the coast of Liberia, and the constant terrorist attacks in cities by Isis by whoever wanted to die instead of getting a job, and live the American dream. The only American news we get in Europe is natural weather disasters, more mass shootings that will never stop, and Trump, Trump, Trump. After the news, they program in what’s happening in Africa, what’s happening in golf, general sports and then back to the next on the hour news with Trump, Trump, Trump.
For a very long time I hated CNN, but when you live alone, not counting your immediate dog family, putting on the television when you wake up seems to be a normal, out of habit, ritual.
Flash sideways to my other secret life, Hostess with the Mostess…. Now in association with Weevents and Masia De San Antonio, I am doing weddings and events at my home in Spain. The same home that I shopped the world to decorate, is now being thrown out into that same world to finally make a living on its own. Like when you push your 35 year old child, who has been mooching off you, out the door and say “get a job.” The good news is that I now have my own parking lot for 100 cars, and a garage converted into a 6 bathroom facility. I mean once I sold the Jag, I didn’t really need a garage for bicycles. Being such a bad driver, I only drove it once anyway.
I am now going to have my own nightclub and music lounge in my classic Spanish patio. It would be particularly fabulous if I was, say 20 years younger, but when you wish for things you have to be very exact and specify dates. They decided the best location was my little olive oil factory.
A sad choice as it seems I had the oldest one in the province and all the machinery was over a hundred years old. My new associates, of course, young enough to be my children said the machinery had to go, and they called the local gypsy junkman.
- 1.My Russian grandfather was a junkman.
2. I am fascinated with Gypsy Wedding gowns and weddings. Thomas, the main Gypsy in charge, told me he got married when he was 18 and his wife was 14. They had his first child, when she was 15. It all didn’t seem to OK to me, but I was thinking she must have had a great wedding dress. Thomas and I got along very well as I took him around the house bargaining with him for all the scrap metal that had been lying around for years. This was high powered negotiating for 10 and 15 euros. He had no idea who he was dealing with, as I gave him some freebies, to sweeten the deal yesterday. Today he came back and we started all over again. The final price was 15€, he gave me a 20€ note, and that was his huge mistake as I had no change…. That 20€ flew out of his hand faster than some crazy white man´s gunshot.
One of his freebies was my huge satellite dish, this giant white metal eyesore, which I presumed was not necessary, as I had smart TVs now. They had 600 channels plus Netflix, HBO, YouTube (you know I have my own channel) and even Amazon Prime. It looked more like a flying saucer had landed in the backyard and certainly didn’t fit the aesthetics of a 300-year-old Spanish hacienda.
In the end, I was happy it was gone, and he was happy I had gifted him. I bet Thomas was a great Salsa dancer. The next morning, sticking to my ritual, I turned on my tv and realized it wasn’t so smart after all, as little blue notice came up on the screen,
“You can no longer connect because you gave the satellite dish to the gypsy”