I'll Come And Make Love To You

I've Tried Several Varieties Of Sex. The Conventional Position Makes Me Claustrophobic, And The Others Either Give Me A Stiff Neck Or Lockjaw.

Wracked With A Hangover I Do My Muttering Over A Black Velvet, A Union Of Champagne And Stout. Don't Be Swindled Into Believing There's Any Cure For A Hangover. I've Tried Them All: Iced Tomatoes, Hot Clam Juice, Brandy Peaches. Like The Common Cold It Defies Solution. Time Alone Can Stay It. The Hair Of The Dog? That Way Lies Folly. It's As Logical As Trying To Put Out A Fire With Applications Of Kerosene.

Drink Reacts On Its Practitioners In Conflicting Ways. One Brave Can Knock Off A Quart Of Scotch And Look And Act As Sober As Herbert Hoover. Another, After Three Martinis, Makes Two-cushion Carroms Off The Chaise Lounge As He Attempts To Negotiate The Bathroom.

Acting Is A Form Of Confession.

Will Tv Kill The Theater? If The Programs I Have Seen, Save For "kukla, Fran And Ollie," The Ball Games And The Fights, Are Any Criterion, The Theater Need Not Wake Up In A Cold Sweat.