By now Seamus, the Romneys’ Irish Setter, has found himself a place in political literature, and has almost replaced Lassie as the most famous dog in American history.
J.P. Devine
J.P. DEVINE: Jack won’t hit the road
By now Seamus, the Romney’s Irish setter, has found himself a place in political literature, and has almost replaced Lassie as the most famous dog in American history.
J.P. DEVINE: Marking time on Planet Earth
The first reunion, 10 years after we walked the stage, was held, I was told, in the old gymnasium that still smelled of sweat and old sneakers.
One last roundup
The first reunion, 10 years after we walked the stage, was held, I was told, in the old gymnasium that still smelled of sweat and old sneakers.
J.P. DEVINE: No women? No J.P.
Many years ago, Arthur Marx, son of Groucho, was denied access to a Beverly Hills country club pool because, it was stated, he was Jewish. Groucho protested. “My son is only half-Jewish, so can he go in up to his knees?”
Inspired early to support rights
Many years ago, Arthur Marx, son of Groucho, was denied access to a Beverly Hills country club pool because, it was stated, he was Jewish. Groucho protested. “My son is only half-Jewish, so can he go in up to his knees?”
J.P. DEVINE: Mass transit
Behold this silver-haired devil in the pink and white checked shirt with blue summer blazer and pale-blue tie dotted with pink flamingos and thin titanium-framed violet-tinted shades, all propped up like a corpse in a Western saloon display, still waiting for God. Style is everything, is it not?
Now you see me … or do you?
As I write this column, the palm trees sway in the tropical breeze, the pale blue-green waves slip up the white sand and tickle my blue-tinted toe nails, as the beach girl hands me my margarita. Have you missed me?
J.P. DEVINE: A country for old men
They sat at what most consider the best winter table, the big Formica-topped booth in the sunlight at a coffee shop outside of Portland.