and, lo, we meet again.
today, class, a close reading of the DM’s article of 16 february 2018, entitled: “Sisters who competed to snare the world’s richest men: Schooled by their mother to seek out power, a new book reveals the jealousy between Jackie O and sister Lee and how they both bedded JFK.”
i mean, just right there, yeah?
if we’re having a reckoning, hey, let’s look at biography.
this is edward klein:
we need to talk about him. Continue reading
i mean, i had you at hello, right? you are like, holy moses, this woman is ambitious. for seriously, is there a more prodigious sex life of a dead person than that of JFK? haven’t we all of us, by this point, slept with JFK?
ok. so that’s taking it a step too far. but seriously. and i say this as a biographer. it is likely that JFK slept with a whole load of people. i’m not contesting that.
there seems to be a lot of compelling evidence that his sex life was extensive.
having written extensively about his wife, there seems to be compelling evidence that she knew his sex life was extensive.
what i would do is suggest that we not take every single claim about his extensive sex life as absolute truth.
(new life goal: to some day teach a master class on the sex lives of dead people. just fyi.)
so here we are with the man of the hour:
holy moses, it’s been awhile.
mostly because the hubbub over this english lord nonsense was so nonsensical that it was exhausting, so i just did a big eye-roll and lived my life. a sloooooow big eye-roll mind you because the story of these letters has been like a dripping faucet, where you know it’s dripping and there’s nothing you can do about it but people keep coming into the room to say, OMG, IT’S DRIPPING!!! as though this is a revelation.
while the existence of letters is exciting and the existence of actual words is indeed a legit news story, the enthusiasm with which these particular letters and these actual words have been met- in particular, the GUSH of ink- seems a bit out of proportion with the letters and words themselves.
but then mayhaps you are like, OLINE, WHAT IS THIS OF WHICH YOU SPEAK??! let’s take this double-quick… Continue reading
so i have been putting this off for daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaays because, HOLY MOSES… i don’t even know.
i mean, that has captured your attention, non? you are RIVETED, right?
let’s dive in.
surely you are aware by now that there is nothing trippier than attempting to unpack the rumors surrounding the sex lives of dead people. right? you are with me? if not, go here to the Finding Jackie Compendium of The Sex Lives of Dead People and then come back to me…
oh, hello! welcome back. today:
now i’mma do this real quick, ya’ll. because you know we have been here before so rumors about people’s sex lives are pretty much old hat to us, non?
today: ET and MR. conveniently, both 5′ 2″ (ish) [though do not quote me on that because i’m going on memory. this is a factoid i have not looked up. ET may have been 5’1″… or was that princess margaret? never mind. JASON PRIESTLY IS 5′!!!! see this is what happens when i write a blog post after 6 p.m.]
ANYEEEEWAY. these guys:
as janet malcolm writes in the silent woman, her MASTERPIECE of biographical criticism, the biographer is “like the professional burglar, breaking into a house, rifling through certain drawers that he has good reason to think contain the loot and money, and triumphantly bearing his loot away.”
i’ve been thinking about life-writing in terms of stealing quite a lot in the fortnight since andrew o’hagan spoke at the conference a colleague and i organized up in oxford on life-writing and celebrity. o’hagan’s question was whether our stories actually belong to us. it is a question to which i would answer wistfully but firmly: no.
(a discussion that i will primarily illustrate with random photos from sarah jessica parker’s instagram, because i’ve recently become obsessed with celebrity instagrams and because ❤ …)Continue reading