The New York Daily News headlined yesterday If Hoda Kotb replaces Ann Curry, NBC to attempt to reunite Regis Philbin and Kathie Lee Gifford on the TODAY show. Gulp. Wow.
Using a Radar Online scoop, The Christian Post posted Hoda Kotb Part of Conspiracy to Reunite Regis and Kathie Lee? printing an unnamed source said NBC executives “absolutely love Regis and want to formally sign him to become a special contributor to TODAY if Hoda is chosen to become Matt Lauer’s co-anchor as Regis would be the natural choice to replace her because Hoda scores off the charts in focus groups, and the audience can relate to her,” the insider told RadarOnline.com earlier.
However this could just be publicity for Philbin, 80, who co-hosted the fourth hour of Today with Gifford last week and the native New Yorker is hosting NBC’s Macy’s Fourth of July extravaganza. Philbin admitted, while co-hosting with Kathie Lee, that he missed television. Don’t we all?
This Show would survive on Gelman jokes.
Pictured left: T.D. Jakes and his Let It Go book with Kathie Lee and Hoda.
Ann Curry is nonetheless excellent and this is Radar Online on how cool her children are. After all, this Reej-o-Rama appears to be a tease with some hoopla around an uncomfortable corporate hatchet job. Regis will go on David Letterman and laugh and say he didn’t think people were still interested in him, and Macy’s might float his advertising juggernaut through the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
You know they say in the business, Regis is on a roll. And if Ann just deserved crumbs then that’s all every last one of us has earned and we know better than that too.
6/28/2012
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It's The New Kathie Lee and Regis Show
6/28/2012 concluded: You know they say in the business, Regis is on a roll. And if Ann just deserved crumbs then that’s all every last one of us has earned and we know better than that too.
January 30 - February 13, 2017
What a business. Insiders clowning around.
Oh yes. Show business levels voices. Frames crafted skeptically disciplined political thought. Shadowed in the glow, who knows? Disciples of Justice, it can be said, has every wrath in the world self-righteously wrapped up. Yet
And promises are made by which strategies hamper various legacies' mutual progress.
And so it goes ...
Why compromise hadn't solved nonsense generations ago.
Alluding to subjects is the illusion of addressing issues stalking-ly from the public stage. Brazing ingrained petty satisfactions.________
 |
| Jingoism's jingoism. |
POLITICAL FEAST?
Denial's hot on the operative premise it's been a Gourge-fest of soaring metaphors all along. The best. Worst. Hyperventilate. Because more's coming and what's real's the meal. No break. Relentless. In blinding speed Entertainment Spectacular has industrialized empire leaning toward civilians wishing they're understood innocent. Animosity's no rip chord. And hard facts don't change the reality, best landing's are soft.
⇧ Allah/God's not a scapegoat of human design.
Principles are described as what's being acted upon. Though one conjured parallel, that comes to mind, is Stalin. Stalin was king. As huge an opportunist as there ever was. Stalin only heard what he wanted. A fact, Mr. Presidents. If asked it was always someone else's fault. And the people were urged to clamor behind his idolatry while happiness was bequeathed based on places in line. The same different crap they'd claimed to have erased.
Opportunity's a beautiful thing.
Except the shrewdest shortcuts necessarily aren't. How funny is it, really, for Presidents Putin and Trump to exhibit how tempting it is to have themselves photographed together in a limousine? Or jeep for smoother public relations twist? No difference. Whew. Small planet's global scale's surreal.
Quoting from The New York Times, July 2, 2012, Ethan Bronner article,
Lisa W. Borden's assessment was, “With so many towns economically strapped, there is growing pressure on the courts to bring in money rather than mete out justice." ...
Poor Land in Jail as Companies Add Huge Fees for Probation
...Lisa W. Borden's assessment was, “With so many towns economically strapped, there is growing pressure on the courts to bring in money rather than mete out justice." ...
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and behind this door ...
West Side Photo Studio Happenstance
Without the humidity that, given half a chance, could crack a Florida Pine, the day was mild for an early August New York City afternoon. I chose being outside rather than in a city library and, actually thought, while looking at the sky, that an efficient, no hassle, Killer Image run would be nice to get right then to take a ride and move around the city. Thinking I wanted a change in scene, and Brian gave me the run. The flat box, assumably photos, went to a small building's second floor studio, on the West Side Highway, around Charles Street thereabouts. A blip of an exclusive old, faded pinkish red, brick building at the end of the street with a view over West Street of Hudson River, the Park and New Jersey. Regretfully I don't remember the photographer's name, having never been there before or since. Though I might recognize him, as he was then, since an audience with Sir Paul McCartney is virtually singed to your brain.
I rode slowly up on the cobblestones to the address and building, because a Black Car was on the sidewalk and the driver beside it was looking me over. Then I circled back a little distance to the nearest opposite side of the street furniture pole. And, while locking, the driver asked if I was delivering there. Man do I owe that man a lot. The indifference I showed compared to his generosity is unfathomable. Because regardless of how many times people say the right things and take packages off your hands, it's uncomfortable letting others control your decisions. Especially when you've not even entered the address. He even said they'd prefer he take the deliveries but I could go up. Have a good time. And I know I said, "Huh," thinking, of course, I'm going up and he probably just didn't want to be bothered.
Inside the vestibule, my next thought, was "oh no," an old freight elevator I had to operate. But the simple enough modernized old elevator doors opened and closed themselves. Out on 2 my courier's pace angled swiftly right to an office that, seen from the elevator, was people grouped in a half-moon discussion. Small room but it held the seven of us comfortably. So reaching the center, I'd assessed, from the left, the first woman was civilian and next two men, the photographer and assistant. At that point I'm only following eyes to the right and, after the third man, passed over the woman in the first chair to the woman, at the desk, with her back to me, on the phone. To not bother her I looked back left and ready to gauge volunteers for the package. But this time when I reached the moon's middle, the third man, Paul McCartney was looking me directly in the eyes. And man if his grin wasn't so brilliant I'd say mine was bigger. So while my head thought Paul McCartney is looking at me I should say something, so did it's best I'm professional and I turned back to the desk and put the flat cardboard box down with the manifest on top. Without looking the woman on the phone easily signed with the pen in her hand. Then, when I looked back, Mr. McCartney was still smiling with me and stunned, still, I nodded my goodbye to go. The photographer led the charge back on reality saying, "you were saying," and Paul said "yes I remember" and paused. And darned, if when I turned back around at the elevator, he's smiling straight at me still. Unfortunately I'd pushed the elevator button, before turning around, so the doors soon opened and closed precisely on the conclusion of our smiling at each other event.
Then somehow, but predictably, I came out the downstairs door as if I were the only person in the world. So that by the time I realized I'd been allowed up and should thank the driver he was gone. Most likely seeing what if anything I'd done. Thanks dude.
Thank you, Sir. And Jessica, Marcy and Jimmy.
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