Oh, Nell
I’m starting to feel bad about the way we’ve ganged up on Linda Tripp. Two Ivy League, economically privileged liberals lambasting a poor, vapid, unprepossessing, low-level bureaucrat: a lonely woman who sat and simmered, ignored by even the randy chief executive who’d seemingly hit on anything that moves; so far out of the loop she couldn’t gather enough detail for a book she longed to write (we’ve both written books!), her face rubbed in her friendlessness by a bimbo who bounced into the office and just like that had the boss’s full attention and then some; and who is now unlikely to be confided in ever, by anyone, left alone in the echoing torture chamber that is her mind. Perhaps we should have mercy, and speak of her no more.
At least until Monday.
I’m barbecuing this weekend with Alec and Kim. You?
