Diana Pollin

Twas brillig and the slithy toves…

  (Sorry, my italics function staged a palace coup and took over the last part of the text,D) Dear Readers – Yes,  I shall dip into the circle of dead poets, a marginalized demographic if there ever was one, and call forth the genius of Lewis Carroll, who apparently started out as a shy retiring math professor. Carroll shed his…

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Thoughts after Brexit

To my Readers, Thoughts After Brexit was written straight from my heart, very shortly after the divorce UK-EU. I felt as if I were mourning a close relative embodied in an idea which had become an Ideal, which also had dreamlike possibilities. Dream on. The problem is a little like a child whose parents are divorcing, I see both points…

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Quel Mess ! The French Edition

My older readers or the cinema buffs or fans of Truman Capote, or all three at a time will immediately recognize the line from Breakfast at Tiffany’s and relish the memory of a ravishing paper-thin-but-somehow-never-anorexic Audrey Hepburn dropping the cigarette holder (Oh how I love the très 60s emblematic dada of sophistication) and chirp forth (to William Holden ? Help !…

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The Bull in the China Shop

Ok, here goes, when I was a kid (classical opening but it works) viewing White House press conferences was like eating a peanut butter sandwich without the peanut butter. Infotainment when it hit the waves, back in the 90s, relied on  chiseled and ageless beauties as anchors, and the whole sweep and glamor of newsrooms where even desk shapes made…

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The Days of Whine and Pink Vaginas and deep streep throat

Hysteria according to the Online Etymology Dictionary (Why isn’t it Etymological? Are adjectives politically incorrect? ) means suffering in the womb, and damn those Greeks for getting  so patriarchical about hissy fits and womanly parts; although the happy state of hysteria is all about diversity, proving vaguely, very vaguely that if nowadays one does not have to have a womb…

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JAN 5, With The Huffingly Post Proclaim…

A post Christmas thought from a friend on Facebook about material success and God’s blessing through the (ahem )priestly medium of the Huffington Post, which, might I remind readers, is a brainchild of Ariana Huffington, multimillionaire spouse of Mr. H and in the good graces of PC, or patently celestial. So here goes. My friend, a Christian, beating the HuffPost…

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JAN 2, Adiprose

Jessica Weiner’s Good in Bed was an Olympian challenge to finish. The plot stands as “how I, a fat woman, from a dysfunctional family (of course), impregnated by a wimpy stupid mama’s boy lover, managed to sell my screen play to Hollywood through a Ladies Room encounter with a botoxed anorexic female Hollywood personality looking for an ersatz sister whom…

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DEC 19 Have yourself a Gaudy Little Christmas

Eons ago, I took Latin in high school, because it looked good on a college application, because it was a trip back to Mr Chipsville handing out As for just showing up, because it satisfied an admittedly useless and sublimely aristocratic yearning to know more about the roots of our adulterated Franco-Norman-Anglo-Saxon-idiom, because it pleased highly educated and idealistic parents,…

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