The Rittenhouse Review

A Philadelphia Journal of Politics, Finance, Ethics, and Culture


Tuesday, November 05, 2002  

FULL DISCLOSURE
Wandering Around the Web

I’m not sure why, but this afternoon I popped over to Salon, the online “magazine” to which I’m no longer a premium subscriber and the online “magazine” that will not refund any portion of the money I paid them for the premium subscription to the “magazine” that I no longer want, and saw the latest from gossipeuse Amy Reiter. The subject of the lead item in Reiter’s column? Rebecca Romijn-Stamos. Again. The second time in three weeks.

What gives? Any “full disclosure” we should be hearing? Are Reiter and Romijn-Stamos, like, sisters or something? What’s interesting is that in this lead item Reiter discusses the alternate career choices Romijn-Stamos has ruled out -- rat wrangler, jockey, professional bungee jumper, dentist, exotic dancer -- and I have yet to figure out what it is she’s already done. I’ve really got to “Google” this woman once and for all. Apparently she’s a major celebrity.

Speaking of full disclosure, I heard CNBC’s Maria Bartiromo made a guest appearance on the latest episode of “The Sopranos,” HBO’s celebrated paean to the contributions of Italian-Americans to our great country. (I understand next season’s HBO line-up includes “The Steppinfetchits: Three Generations of Welfare Dependency” and “The Protocols of the Elders of Zion: A Musical Mini-Series.”)

Unfortunately, I missed it. I missed it because: (a) I’m not a regular viewer -- I’ve only seen the show once; (b) I never remember when HBO’s real shows are on, even the good ones, like “Oz,” which may not even be around anymore for all I know (Note to self: Call Chris Meloni and ask if “Oz” is still running and whether he’s free Saturday night.); and (c) I still haven’t set up an appointment for a visit from the Comcast guy. Yes, it’s true: I haven’t watched television in a month. Try it sometime. It’s easier than you think.

Anyway, full disclosure . . . um . . . full disclosure . . . oh, right, so I heard Maria was on “The Sopranos” and I can’t offer my opinion on her performance. Just as well, I suppose, because “full disclosure” would require that I inform you that for three years I worked for Bartiromo’s husband, Jonathan Steinberg, at the late, great Individual Investor magazine, that Bartiromo had a column in the magazine, that I have met Maria, that I have the number of her direct line at CNBC, that on occasion I socialized with her (A very small number of work-related occasions. Okay, like two or three times.), and that she plays a mean game of . . . Whoa, I’ll stop there.

I was surprised to hear about Bartiromo’s appearance and I wonder if the organizers of New York’s annual Columbus Day parade have caught wind of it, what with them not being big “Sopranos” fans. Not that I think she shouldn’t have done it. I can’t imagine she wants to appear on CNBC forever and if she can find a new career -- one where she wouldn’t be surrounded by so many nerds all day -- more power to her.

Now there I go talking about Maria after I said I wouldn’t because of the full disclosure thing. But I did fully disclose, so I guess it’s fine. Except I didn’t tell you the name of the card game she plays so well. And I won’t. Oh . . . I didn’t mean to let “card” game slip. Well, now that I have, let’s just say it’s a game I enjoy a little too much and one that Bartiromo, Steinberg, and I, among others, spent many hours playing over the course of several nights in the Caribbean. Fewer than, ahem, 21 hours, but pretty close.

Meanwhile, Goldberg-the-Much-Lesser-If-That’s-Possible, Jonah, last week disclosed, in one of the most despicable essays ever to appear at the cesspool known as National Review Online, that he would like to be buried wrapped in bacon.

And, while this was not fully disclosed, only implied, it appears there could be more Podhoretzes coming down the pike. New York Post columnist John Podhoretz, son of prominent neoconservatives Norman Podhoretz and Midge Decter, on October 13 married Ayala Cohen in a ceremony in Cedarhurst, N.Y. Oy vey. Just kidding. Really, I am. Congratulations, best wishes, and all that. (Yeah. Like they care.)

And one last note, let me fully disclose that I think this is a terrible idea.

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