RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
RIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TVRIP-TV
2001-02-06
Call waiting. I put my mother on FLASH and hear my sister�s voice. �Put on Channel 7. Your girl is on Jeopardy.�
Now the previous evening she�d gotten home early and we�d watched ET, as it�s called now, for news about Tom and Nicole (I really believe it�s best, if you can�t say something nice about someone, to say nothing at all), but had happened instead to see a �segment� about the upcoming Jeopardy appearance of former actress Jodie Foster. I blurted, �Jodie Foster�s not my girl!,� with some offense. Jodie Foster�s nothing but a YALIE.
�No�your GIRL.�
�Gillian Anderson?� A thrill of alarm, not the pleasant kind, slithers through me at the thought that this exquisitely intelligent ACTRESS might have found her way so deeply into the clutches of media charity.
"NO�your girl MARTHA.�
Quite involuntarily I lean forward in the chair as I am flooded with the keenest happiness�it�s like watching Hingis hit the backhand. Because I know that she will win.