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After making a career out of skewering hypocrits David Letterman has confessed on his show to having sex with “several” female staff members. He had to come clean because the matter was before the courts.

A staffer at CBS news has been charged with trying to extort 2 million dollars from the talk show host.  Letterman made jokes during the ten minute long mea culpa. To me, that’s the problem. I don’t think it’s funny. I just don’t. I don’t care if he slept with circus animals as long as they aren’t employees. Can you imagine being a young aspiring writer or comedian and getting a job on the Letterman show? If the boss started flirting and it went even further, what would you do? Would you give in, wondering, in the back of your mind, if saying “no” or becoming a whistle-blower would end your career? He was the boss. Period.

If he wanted to have an affair he should have looked outside the office or if he was desperately attracted to women at work, he should have signed the proper consent forms with his Human Resources department. Alot of companies fire managers for what he did. Instead, thanks to the blackmail plot, Letterman gets to play the victim….for laughs. I just don’t think it’s funny. I am certain most of Hollywood will come to Dave’s defence just as a vocal minority is defending Roman Polanski. (Given the nature of the allegations against the director, that is even more disturbing. When star says Polanski should be freed because he’s an artist, I call it “The Hilter loved dogs” defence. That’s the idea that good works in one part of your life gives you a free pass on morality or criminal charges in another. That doesn’t wash in a civilized society because no one is all good or all bad.)

I feel sorry for Letterman’s family but his wife met him while working on the show and so did former girlfriend Merrill Markoe. Maybe Letterman is lazy. He won’t go out of his way to look for love but prefers the take-in approach.

 
My dog Schmooze loves the agility apparatus in dog class.

This is my dog Schmooze in our backyard.
When we first brought her home she could lay in Buddah’s hand. Appropriate that she was a handful even then.

We were at dog class last weekend when a woman came up and cooed over The Schmooze. She took a bunch of pictures to email to a friend who used to have an English Bull Terrier.  She said he had a pug now, but the dog was getting old and he would one day soon be looking for a new furry companion.

“Oh yeah,” she adds, “he is Rick Springfield”. Do you remember the cover of his album “Working Class Dog”? It featured his first bully. I passed on all the information about Schmooze’s bloodlines and breeder.   Who knows? She could soon have another showbiz connection.  Her cousins star in the Target ads in the U.S. so she already has stars in her eyes.  By the way, we are going to class for me, not her this time.  She passed the last lessons but that was with my husband as handler. She is breezing thru this year which means I won’t be nearly as nervous.

We take her to BRB Kennels where Sherry is a miracle worker. The people at class who asked about our dog want to do a series about her methods. They have worked for The Schmooze who is so strong and strong-willed all the praise and the treats little effect.

Here is a picture of my dog The Schmooze.  It’s hard to believe she is now 16 months old.

She is getting much better, other than eating the wall-to-wall carpet in the hall upstairs. We are taking training classes again this fall. Schmooze passed this with flying colours last year, but my husband did the handling now. I am in charge this year and much less forgiving of minor discretions. (Fathers forgive daughters everything.) I will say she is wonderful at heeling and sitting but not so good at “off” and “down” and “stay”. I blame youthful exuberance.

Mary Ellen Beninger

So, we made the usual pilgrimage to Yorkville for the Toronto International Film Festival, This was The Schmooze’s debut. Last year she was too young and had not yet had all her shots. This year she was 16 months old and I’m proud to say very well behaved. We had lunch at Michelle’s, that’s in the alleyway next to the Starbucks on Cumberland. They have dog bowls and dog beads and dog biscuits, so it’s a big hit with our family. As we waited for our food, we noticed an interview taking place in another part of the patio. It was Tilda Swinton, who got the Oscar for the Michael Clayton. She looked like the most interesting exotic bird. Beautiful skin, and so graceful.

She was also wearing gorgeous Christian Laboutin pumps in purple and tan suede. I know this because on her way out of the restaraunt she stopped at our table to say “hello” to The Schmooze.

She commented on how beautiful the dog was and noticed she had David Bowie eyes, meaning two different colours. Tilda was so gracious and sweat but Schmooze was slightly disappointed not to be invited to any after-parties. No sign of Oprah or George Clooney but Miss Swinton co-starred with George in Michael Clayton so when I’m patting my dog’s head there is just one degree of separation between George and I. He will have to settle for that!

Mary Ellen Beninger

I have been remiss in writing my blogs. So here’s the scoop. We just got back from the Far East. A wonderful two weeks in Singapore, Bali and Hong Kong. Lots of sleep and good food. Oh, and I went to Dr. Fish. You put your crusty toes in these special tanks and these fish come and nibble off all the dead skin. I lost 2 pounds!

I was sick for part of the trip-sinistis and bronchitis- but enough to be scarey. At Tokyo, teams of doctors in hazmat suits boarded the plane and used thermal imaging units to find people with fever or coughs. I managed to keep quiet and cool thanks to a pillow over my mouth and an ice cube down my back. My husband is so thoughtful.

We are glad to be home, but especially so because we were here to celebrate our puppy’s first birthday.

She has turned out to be the sweetest thing.

My husband wrote the following letter on her behalf to our breeder. I thought I would share with you a bit about her life.

Dear John: Today, I turned one year old!  I thought you’d might be interested in some of the things that have happened since my mom and dad picked me up back on July 5 of last year. I live in a big house with five levels in a place called Oakville.  They call it that because it has lots of oak trees and forests where you can walk along paths.  My house is across the street from a brand new park.  I like to sit in a big leather chair in dad’s office on the second floor so I can see what’s happening.  People play football, soccer and baseball every day.  I especially like Saturday mornings when the people puppies kick balls around.  It looks like fun.   In the far corner of the park is a leash-free zone.  I can see it from the window (which sometimes drives me crazy) but five or six times a week, I get to go hang out with some of my new friends.  There’s Angus (he’s a Great Dane), Winston (he’s a bulldog), Muggles (I’m not sure what he is) and a rotating cast of characters.  I get to run and play while dad sits on a picnic table answering email.  It’s a good use of time for the both of us.  I just wish my friend Cooper (a golden lab) would come out. On weekdays, the school bus picks people up almost right in front of the house.  I like watching that—and when they come home around 3:30.  My perch in the office is also a good place to look out for dad.  I know he drives a grey car, but since I’m not very good with brands, I get excited at every grey car that goes by.  Eventually, though, one of them turns into the driveway.  That’s when I know dad’s home. Mom and dad work some strange hours, but that’s good for me because I’m almost never, ever left alone in the house.  Mom gets up in the middle of the night to go to work, but that means she’s home by 10:30.  Dad gets up around 6 and works in his office until about 10 before he has to leave.  Then there are the one or two days a week that dad works in the home office all day.  Then I’m never alone.  Once a week, I get to go up to doggy daycare where I get to play with dozens of other dogs, including a couple of other bull terrier.  You can really pick us out in this crowd.  It’s a full day out at a farm about three miles away. I sleep in three places.  I have my Box, which is in a loft that overlooks the living room and the kitchen.  That’s where I go when mom says I need something called a “time out.”  I have what dad called The Cage in his office.  That’s where I sometimes go when he’s working in the office.  My favorite place, though, is the Big Bed, where I snuggle between mom and dad.  We usually go to be around 9 or 9:30 because everyone has to get up so early—which is fine with me. I have a nice fenced back yard.  With lots of gardens and bushes and trees and places to explore.  When I get hot, I lie on the paving stones, but I actually prefer sitting on the patio chairs.  They’re comfortable enough, although I wish mom would hurry up and buy some cushions. I went to two different schools.  The first one tried to teach me by using treats and hugs.  But because I’m not really motivated by food—dad’s never seen that in a bull terrier—and because I’m going to get hugs, anyway (after all, I AM a bull terrier), I kinda got bored really quickly and didn’t bother to learn much.  But then a friend told us about a crazy lady named Shari who, in addition to training dogs for movies and TV, also trains tigers and rats.  This friend—who looks after Lillybelle, my St. Bernard friend—told my mom and dad that this woman can get any dog to learn, even strong-willed ones like me. We went for six weeks, with dad doing the handling and mom offering observations and moral support.  And you know something?  I really, really enjoyed it.  I guess mom and dad were just a little confused.   Now I understand what they were trying to tell me all those months.  They apparently thought I was “insane,” whatever that is.  But what do you expect?  They’re just people.  Oh—and I graduate tomorrow.  There will be pictures and cake.  I’ll let you know how it turns out.   What else can I tell you?  Well, mom and dad just got back from two weeks in Southeast Asia.  I got to vacation at the doggy daycare camp the entire time.  It was fun—but it was also exhausting.  It’ll be a while before I catch up on my sleep.  I still don’t like brooms, rakes, shovels and vacuum cleaners much.  My favorite things to chew are these big, long beef tendons that we get at the local pet store.  Dad calls them my “sticks.”  If I’m feeling ambitious, I can go through two feet of a three foot stick in day.  It keeps me busy and as a side note, my teeth are incredibly white. I don’t like birds.  I thought you should know that.  There’s a duck pond in the park across the street and Canada geese and ducks continually violate the airspace over my house.  They fly so low, too, honking and quacking all the way.  That annoys me.  I was especially put out when two geese decided to hang out on the roof of the house for a couple of hours.  Who did they think they were? You’ll also be happy to know that I’m incredibly healthy.  When my doctor first saw me, she couldn’t believe how good I looked.  I was the first puppy she had ever seen that came to her parasite-free.  Today, I weigh a little more than 40 pounds.  Mom says I have Manna’s body and Fatso’s chest.  My head is a bit small, but I’m still growing.  Since coming home, I’ve had just one slight bladder infection and one slight ear infection.  I had a slight run-in with an ornery black lab named Raven at the dog park which resulted in a couple of stitches on my ear, but you’d never know it.  And I’ve forgiven Raven.  (She was old and I figure she just wasn’t feeling that well that day.)  By the way, my doctor LOVES me.  She even put me in the calendar the clinic gives out ever year because she says I’m so beautiful.  I also got “spayed”—but I’m not sure what that was all about.  All I know is that I’m missing about six hours of my memory and that when I woke up, I had stitches like a football.  The doctor told my mom and dad that I’d have to wear a cone for ten days so I wouldn’t pick at my stitches.  I looked at them once and then forgot all about them.  By morning, I was my old self. Today is a holiday here in Canada.  It’s called “Victoria Day” and although it’s supposedly designed to remember Queen Victoria’s reign of the British Empire (whoever she was and whatever that was), it’s really just an excuse to have an extra day off in May.  It also means fireworks displays.  Me and dad watched from the porch as people fired off Roman candles in the park last night.  Tonight will be more of the same thing.  I’m looking forward to it. It’s been an eventful year, although I can’t say I remember much of the first six months (Hey, I was just a kid and everything was new and confusing and exciting.)  Mom tells me that hole in the rug in front of the bathroom was my doing.  Dad still can’t find a couple of his shoes.  And yeah, I kind of feel bad for trying to eat both bedside tables when no one was looking.  But like I said, I was just a kid.   Mom tells me that about a month ago, I started growing up.  I started being more patient, doing as I was told and stopped constantly scheming about the next bad thing I was going to do.  Now all I wanna do is hang with my peoples.  We got a good thing going here.  Really good.  In fact, mom talks about getting me a little brother for my second birthday. If I stay good, maybe I’ll see you next spring.  What do you think? Say hi to my mom and dad—the bull terrier ones—for me, okay? 

Schmooze

PS- I absolutely promise photos soon.

Nothing attracts investors like the phrase “toxic assets.”

The U.S. government is trying to find patsies…er…private investors…to buy up to a trillion dollars in toxic assets off banking books.

The idea is if they can take the bad investments off the books, the banks will feel free to start lending.  But lending to whom?

Is there any oversight put in place to prevent other risky derivative schemes?

Or should be worry about banks being too cautious and risk-averse?

That wouldn’t be good for the economy either.

It’s like the balance between saving and spending. On the one hand, it’s prudent for  consumers worried about their jobs to salt away some extra cash.

On the other hand, the more we spend, the more money we pump into the economy, saving jobs.

Darned if you do and if you don’t.

Mary Ellen Beninger

I am sorry I haven’t updated my blog in a while. I have been given new responsiblities, writing for the 680 morning show, as well as doing the news on CHFI. It takes me a while to deal with change. I hate it when they move my water dish.

But the more I read about this economy, the more I realize how important it is to be flexible and nimble and be ready to step up and assume more responsiblity.

I think that’s a valuable lesson in any economy, but especially now.

It’s not an easy thing to do when you are of a certain age and certain seniority, but a little humility never hurt anyone. We all have something to learn.

One other note. I am sick and tired of reading articles or seeing snippets on tv about how to cook a simple meal. If parents haven’t developped the necessary survival skills to pass onto their kids, bring back home ec in school. And at the same time, bring back accounting and financining 101 and want it to be made mandatory for all those too-smart-for-their-own-good Wall Street types.

Mary Ellen Beninger

So Slumdog Millionaire won 8 Oscars. No big surprise, but I have to wonder how it will stand up over the years.  Given the economic times, the feel-good, rags to riches story was a lock.

Thomas Friedman, the famed New York Times columnist, had a great piece on Sunday. He wondered why we are bailing out bad investors-banks and private citizens. Why not, he asked, take those billions, even trillions of dollars, and invest in enterpreneurs.

Those people will create jobs and grow the economy. Instead, we are giving money to car companies that ignored the writing on the wall for decades; to banks, who ignored the most basic rules about financing and to homeowners who knew they couldn’t afford to buy and then were shocked when the bills came in.

My parents, like yours, always taught me actions have consequences. Except in the current economy, when you are rewarded for profligate spending and recklessness. I wouldn’t care if the money that was going into bailout plans and economic stimulus packages wasn’t my money.

It’s like lending cash to a relative with a gambling problem. Sooner or later, they have to bottom out.

I’m wondering if the same is true for this economy; let the bad firms fail, let the chips fall and then clean up the mess. Otherwise, we may be just prolonging the agony.

Mary Ellen Beninger

So the U.S. Senate is about to pass an economic stimulus package worth almost a trillion dollars!

Once you add up all the cash given to banks and carmakers and now home buyers, it’s about 7 trillion dollars.

That’s twice as much as America spent on the second world war.

That’s almost ten times what NASA has spent since the 1950s…and makes the 217 billion dollar Louisiana Purchase look like a bargain.

I chuckle when I read the numbers and try and figure out the conflicting advice we are getting.  Oprah keeps having shows about saving money and recycling. But if we do that, how can consumers stimulate the economy and save jobs?

If bankers and corporations don’t buy new jets, how can we be surprised that Bombardier is laying off workers in Montreal, Kansas and Ireland?

I don’t have the answers, but neither do the experts. If they really were experts, they would have seen this coming years ago and not put together hedge funds and convoluted essentially legal money-laundering operations that got us into this trouble in the first place.

There’s no doubt we can’t continue to spend and borrow our way out of this mess. What concerns me is who owns all this debt?

Is it the Chinese? And if so, when will their government pull the plug on iffy Western investments? What kind of payback will they want in exchange for funding U.S government debt?

Again, I don’t have the answers but I do think that the Chinese will have to tend to their own garden first.  They have made a pact with their people-in exchange for one party rule under communism, their people could look forward to rising prosperity. If the Chinese government doesn’t hold up its end of the bargain, will they face a popular revolt?

Let them eat wontons?

Just asking

Mary Ellen Beninger