Breaking news Monday afternoon:
latest development Sunday lunchtime:
Breaking story (Friday):
My my kids
my pal Devorah Rose has been a very busy girl since she first woke me out of a deep sleep this past Tuesday morning at 2am crying and whining that page 6 had ruined her life. The truth is page 6 only helped propel her career unwittingly to the stratesphere and now I was being used like a rue de Pigalle whore to do Devorah’s newest bidding- ressurrect and sanctify her. And to work I went:
To portray Ms Rose as the aggressor and as our ‘friends’ (blah) page 6 as a saucy aficionado on the prowl is furthest from the truth. Then again this is Murdoch’s media reaching for the tawdry as per usual. Mortified? Oh dear Salman dear, I must say in this instance I am mortified with the candor that you make your assertions as the following communications in my hands indicate that YOU dear insisted on the outings with Ms Rose. Please follow this way ladies and gentlemen…
But something awful started to rush down my throat the next morning. Devorah my hero was cuddled in her satin pj’s in tears, refusing to take my calls and no one was calling me to congratulate me for my defense of the highly misunderstood facebook cover model (yes kids, it’s all there to see, Devorah Rose in all sorts of satin sheet bikini whatever state of undress with a calculating smile which amounts to saying- you can love me too…
And then something awful happened:
The comments started flying in, and I was mortified not for sweet Jesus who floats in my mind for the millions of times I have offended him, not for Salman Rushdie who has crawled into a cubby hole the size of a Rackoon’s pouch but for Devorah herself who then began begging me to erase the comments. I of course responded I am a journalist (whatever) and not a publicist.
There in the comment box were the candid comments of Devorah Rose’s contributing society editor, Mr Christopher London (who also pens his own beguiling blog, christopherlondonblog) of Social Life Magazine. And what comments they were. Shall we begin to read them out together?
But first this caveat courtesy of the dailymail who couldn’t resist stepping into the muddied pond with their eyes closed this afternoon:
Born in Texas to a Venezuelan mother and Guatemalan father, Rose is considered a shameless social climber who will stop at nothing to get press for herself.
Her real name is Deborah Denise Trachtenberg but she changed it when she moved to New York in the 1990s.
She studied English at university and at one point dreamed of being a novelist.
She also once starred in the pilot episode of a reality TV show about New York socialites in which she threw a glass of water over somebody else and came across like a ‘villainous schemer’.
A relationship with Rushdie would indeed have raised her profile, but put her at risk of becoming just another notch on his bedpost.
Just another notch on the bedpost. Who Salman or Devorah? Both play their games with alloted flair admittedly…Kids let me be honest I am deeply mortified for these two, cause deep in my heart these two wonderful kindred
schemers love birds would be perfect for each other. That’s just my opinion and if I ever run into Mr Rushdie on a vacant lot I will be sure to show my tear soaked kerchief to this effect.
Now back to Mr London, Social Life Magazine Part time between May and the first week of September’s contributing society editor. Let’s see what he had to say on this whole mess:
Have things really gotten that bad for Salman? You are thinking poor soul right? Some how I doubt it. Someone talked or posed sitting next to Devorah and now she thinks folks actually wanna phuck her? Niggah please. Even she knows better. This hardly looks like a representative image of some massive romance, deeply formed alliance or one even suggesting any kind of intimate relationship between the two. The talented writer, meaning Rusdhie, has had his hands full with some of the world’s most beautiful women and is an intense intellectual. You do not go from Padima Lakshmi to DR. No way. No how; not even if you are paying by the hour.
This is “star fucking” without the actual fucking. Capische? Like a scheming Forrest Gump, DR is selling you out at hello. DR’s page of life is filled with photos standing next