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Apr. 10th, 2006 | 09:01 am


The Little People Who Help the Post Ignore the Big Story

It's hard to focus on what's actually on Page Six today.
My entire purpose for creating this blog about a month ago
was to detail what's what and who's who on Page Six,
the world's most fascinating column.
But almost instantly my interest in Page Six changed
from enjoying reading it
to being obsessed with reading about it.
Ugh.

Poor Paula Froelich.
Though I never gave her much thought before
I feel for that girl today.



Page Six Editor Richard Johnson and his bride Sessa von Richthofen

While Richard Johnson is away,
presumably celebrating his marriage to Sessa,
little nutty Paula is left (without Chris Wilson)
to hold down the fort
while the rest of the world skewers the Post and its


ethically-challenged freelancer Jared Paul Stern.

Still considering the circumstances
Paula did a decent job today.
This is what she came up with:

* The bizarre relationship between two Kiss tribute bands,
manned by drawfs: Tiny Kiss and Mini Kiss.

* A mystery beef between Naomi Campbell and Sean "P-Ditty" Combs.

* The sexcapades of Baraonda owner Enrico Proietti,
whom my friend, a certain lady Doctor,
used to do the horizontal mambo with
inside his restaurant.
(Truthfully, I think it was a verticle mambo.)

* Julie Roberts not getting the modeling gig with Dior.
Whatever.
That girl bores me.

* Jennifer Lopez will tour in Dubai.

* To avoid the media, Angelina Jolie may give birth
to Brad Pitts baby in Namibia.

By the way, there is not new info about this horrendous scandal.
What I find online is just a collection of rehashes
of what was said yesterday.

Though I do commend some of what the New York Times wrote yesterday
today they printed a stupd piece by Campbell Robertson
that talks about the relationships gossip columnists
enjoy with their spies and their subjects.
Dull dude.
Very dull.
And if you think that having relationships with sources
and players in the city is a problem,
that would explain how dreadfully boring your column
Public Lives is.

The Times really ought to get Marc Santora to write something.
His piece yesterday about how Jared recreated himself
in NYC is far more interesting than Robertson's yawner.

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