Television I’ll never forget that summer day in 1976 when I walked into my boyfriend’s pad and saw the poster of a blond in a red bathing suit pinned up on the wood paneling. “Really?” I asked. “Are you kidding me?” He grinned at me rather sheepishly and replied, “She’s really hot.” “Oh brother.” Rolling my eyes, I continued “I thought you were more mature than that!” And besides, for an intellectual gal who immersed herself in the satires of Kurt Vonnegut and had training in method acting, superstar Farrah Fawcett of Charlie’s Angels appeared shallow and trite to me. Never ( continue reading... )





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