Word: caviar
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Think of an old sea dog standing near the rotting docks of a big-city harbor, gazing out at the water, recalling the days of the great ocean liners, willing back just one more voyage on which plutocrats in white dinner jackets and women in evening gowns washed down caviar with champagne in dining rooms of paneled wood and stained glass...
...past months Melrose has tackled child abuse, outing and now date rape. Message drama has its place on television, but not within the context of a show whose characters utter lines like, "You think I want a life of peanut butter and jelly? I want lobster. I want caviar. I want style." Perhaps the beginning of the end really came toward the climax of this last season, when Amanda had cancer. She didn't seem to lose a strand of hair during her chemo treatments, but she came out of it all stripped of her fine-tuned ruthlessness...
...executives catered gourmet lunches at their desks. Many clients receive annual invitations to conferences like one held in July at New York's Waldorf-Astoria. In 1992, on the occasion of its 10th anniversary, Investcorp threw a lavish party at London's Victoria and Albert Museum. Guests nibbled on caviar served from ice sculptures and strolled under garlands of peonies adorned with caged songbirds. When major deals are in the works, senior executives zoom across the Atlantic on the Concorde. "They fly the Concorde if they want a salami sandwich," jokes a former bank adviser. "I've never seen anybody...
This theme of race abandonment and being a traitor is echoed by Derrick Z. Jackson of the Boston Globe and columnist Molly Ivins. In a recent column ("Questioning Powell's beliefs," op-ed, Sept. 27) Jackson says that Powell "ate political caviar" while "the people in his sea of black and Hispanic faces were being told that ketchup was a vegetable, their mothers were welfare queens and the quintessential criminal in America was black rapist Willie Horton," and that Powell "is but an instrument for white people to feel smug about solving racism...
...first act also included the French song "Complainte de la Seine," a litany of the refuse at river's bottom. She thus moved strangely from Weill's world of caviar and champagne to mucky vomit and severed limbs. Even more disconcerting was how, after she finished each melancholy song, she beamed a queer smile at the audience's hearty applause...