Flung the TV remote across the Oval Orifice today at that fat chick who does the media dodgings. Don’t need it anyway, just keep TV on Fox Loves Me. Fat moron loser media chick, just like that Angle-Ass Murky over there in Sweden, where my father came from. I’m a proud German-American of the 1939 vintage-thing, Ivanka in jackboots and a thong, yes!!! Who she think she is, Sarah Suck-My-Taint, asking me to delete videos sent by a great Freedom Fighter putting Britain First. Telling me it would be too ironical-ish or whatever for me to post real fake news! I know more

I knew it, I knew it, I fucking canoe it! All that goodly work done by so many fine people in Charlottesville, light a little fire and carry it on your rifle-shoulder, memory them of the big burning crosses in their yards before the Marshawn Lynching, all that defend-ation of good fight Confederacy hero statues undone

Bigly disappointed, yugely bigly disappointed, with CFNN – Cable Fake News Nigers – for twisted obsessions – not that lightweight loser A-Turkey-General, Sessions, just real sad media obsession – with making me look badliest.Imagine… Ivanka in a thong – nice! – but srsly imagine yourself of loser liberal Obamacare Disaster Democrats who do not defend right of many fine men

Today’s Number One Film: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, 2.44pm Paramount Channel. Watch this if you liked Adaptation, Being John Malkovich or The English Patient. A Charlie Kaufmann screenplay means “imagination” and those lacking in same may just steups; but, for those who can go with the flow, this is easily Charlie Kaufman’s (Being John Malkovich, Adaptation) most satisfying screenplay to date (even after Anomalisa). Michel Gondry’s direction is subtly brilliant and

TGIF, my near-30-year-old column, appears today for the first time in Newsday, the paper founded by the late Therese Mills – but it’s not the first time I’ve been in a Therese Mills paper. In fact, the first time I appeared in one, I’d been on the front firetrucking page! The op-ed pages, seen in that light, might amount to a demotion.

How many Newsday readers remember the legendary Cuban artist BC Montana?

In 1987, I was working as a lawyer. In my naivety, I’d convinced myself law had as much to do with justice as it had with shameless posturing that crossed the border into hypocrisy every working day. It was, eg, back then, a major professional scandal that I, a male barrister, wore an earring into court.

That year, my friend James, whose surname I cannot use because he is the only high court judge of Syrian-Lebanese descent, had launched a poetry collection that drew large numbers of hot women in white cotton drinking red wine. I, too, wanted to stand in an admiring pulchritudinous throng and say, dismissively, “Oh, I did that in my Blue Period.” But then, as now, I had nothing to show for myself.

So I became a modern sculptor.