So Muammar Qaddafi has pitched his tent in Bedford, New York, having been kicked out of New Jersey faster than a cast member of The Sopranos.
And who will be among his neighbors in this tony Westchester burb? Why Martha Stewart, who I’m sure will be DELIGHTED to look out her picture window only to catch “Guide of the First of September Great Revolution of the Socialist People’s Libyan Arab Jamahiriya and Brotherly Leader and Guide of Previously Mentioned Revolution” in her peripheral vision.
I wonder what helpful hints Martha will have for Qaddafi? Perhaps how to fold the corners of his tent in a manner worthy of an Eagle Scout, or the inestimable value of lace, or perhaps she’ll proffer a few interior-design tips to rid his dwelling of that whole scimitar motif. (How 70s! 1570s!)
My guess is that once the butcher of Lockerbie and entourage actually show their faces, the genteel residents of Bedford will storm his bivvy with such feral ferocity it will make T.E. Lawrence’s descent on Aqaba look like a skiing accident.
UPDATE: It appears Qaddafi may be squatting on none other than The Donald’s property. Assuming this is true, and Trump’s people seem to be denying it, what on earth does this mean? Is there another reality show in the offing—instead of The Apprentice, can we expect a mid-season replacement called The Henchman, in which contestants vie to become a brutal dictator’s right-hand assassin, and instead of the losers fearing the dreaded “You’re fired,” they’ll be subjected to “You’re toast”?
It’s the gift that keeps on giving . . .