As we know, the well-to-do love buying things, and that includes the 4-legged they leave behind on weekends since, according to Muffy, Socrates doesn’t do well in the country.
So the maid, they overpay to ease their guilt, stays at their penthouse to feed and walk Socs, as the kids call him, proudly promenading like she’s in a Jamaican parade.
Why get a dog, one you even paid for, no shelter animals for the rich and mighty, might not go with that sectional made of horsehair that turns out, makes you sneeze, in the first place?
But who asked me?
She’s dating a gorgeous goyisha guy she can’t bring home for Rosh Hashanah since her orthodox dad might have a stroke.
Okay, so just don’t bring him, it’s only dinner.
But who asked me?
A guy is siting in his car waiting for a parking spot. He’s aggravated that no one is moving, yelling at his doorman. He’s driving a Jag but doesn’t put it in a monthly parking garage, what’s up with that?
But who asked me?
A rather robust woman in a coffee shop after ordering the $15.99 7 course Early Bird Special, is whining how high her cholesterol is, while her husband, who’s clearly heard it all before, quietly butters bread. As she whines further like a malfunctioning Mattel toy, eating scalloped potatoes sauteed in cream, I so want to say, just so you know, your cholesterol is now doing the tango.
But who asked me?
When I brought up to a friend the last mass shooting in El Paso, Texas and how awful it was to have it happen again, he said, ‘Yeah, and, your point is?”
WTF?
But who asked me? ![]()
SB