(Incidentally, is not difficult to imagine such an erudite fellow conjuring up the image of his grandchildren "looking like a dump truck"?)
Spotlight letter: Nothing like a good martini, garter belts and high heels
Last night, like every night, I made myself a martini. I filled a glass with several cubes of ice, poured a little extra dry vermouth over the cubes, shook the glass a few times, poured out the vermouth, filled the glass with gin and added three green olives – a drink with a marvelous piney aroma and appearance.
But it seems to me that the martini, a rock solid American institution, is dying, and this is a sad thing. Oh, there are martini bars out there, but they don’t serve real martinis; they are pink and blue. I find it hard to believe there is such a thing as a chocolate martini.
The martini is an honest drink, tasting exactly like what it is and nothing else. There are no fruit juices or chocolate in a martini, and it’s not served in a pineapple shell. The martini is a clear, clean, cold, pure and honest drink – especially for people with established values and a liking for purity, even in their vices.
I regret the passing of this friend from our culture, just as I regret knowing that I’ll never again see a pretty woman in nylons, garter belt and spiked heels. Now I read they want to do away with high heels and swimsuits in the Miss America Pageant. I suppose next it will be brown paper bags over heads and every contestant clothed in XXL potato sacks.
I want my grand daughters to have a shot at winning scholarships too, but if they look like a dump truck, they should change their appearance or enter a spelling bee.
Martinis, garter belts, bathing suits and high heels – why do good things pass away? Tonight I’m going to pour myself a martini, light up my pipe, sit in my backyard and give this matter a lot more thought.