It’s time to move on from Will Smith slapping Chris Rock at the Oscars
With a Will & a way out
Will Smith had alligator-infested swamps, a hurricane and 400 background actors tested daily for COVID for new film “Emancipation,” about an escapee from slavery.
Will: “My co-stars and I needed emotional help. We had therapists, priests, spiritual advisers. People had a hard time with this on the set.
“I thought I was more prepared for it than I actually was. The verbal abuse, physical violence, called the ‘N-word’ a hundred times a day took its toll. I felt up to my neck in a swamp. But . . . I’ve grown.”
We can now forget his smacking Chris Rock.
Psychic Maryann Gaudioso about Year 2023:
“Jen and Ben don’t last. They make maybe two years.
“Sylvester Stallone finds new lady — but no marriage.
“Kevin Costner makes a political run. What/where who knows. Maybe governor.
“Hunter Biden. His future’s all bad. He has absolutely none.”
Completely carded out
All right already with Xmas cards imprinted with a dog’s paw. Plus strangers who type long letters about their lives all year — because who cares. And shove adding your 6-year-old’s name because he/she doesn’t know who we are. Also — bless me, Father, for I have sinned — and won’t even open those crappy cheapo e-mail things.
Robert De Niro’s earlier break-in was in the ’80s. Home was CPW’s old Mayflower Hotel. Everyone desperate to meet De Niro. One night a wannabe actor, jacked up on drugs, wanted him to finance a floating Actor’s Studio on the Hudson. Today, who knows, this nut job is probably working a slow boat up the river.
Turning mistakes into steaks
Arlene Kayatt, a columnist on the weekly Our Town, and I got helplessly caught in the scruff of thousands of bodies jamming Rock Center’s tree.
Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t call anyone. Couldn’t find our car. Couldn’t cross a street. Pinioned. Terrified.
Eventually crossing 50th and Fifth, pushing east, the Empire Steak House took us in. Rescued us. Fed us. And I’m grateful. And dinner was delicious.
Must be some kinda tees
More holiday oddities. Joanna Molloy, former Daily News columnist, sent me a huge package. Eight T-shirts. All emblazoned with “Beware of Cindy,” “Endless Cindy,” “Angry Cindy.” Question is: Do what? Which? Thank her or smack her?
To rest my bones, phones, drones and computer, I’m taking off for the holiday — and I’ll leave Santa to muck up crosstown traffic — but no matter what my editor wishes, no matter how hard he negotiates to get me transplanted onto the Southern Iowa Gazette’s Sunday edition — I’ll be right back the first week of the year.
Safety and love and patriotism to you all.
Always in New York, kids, always in New York.