Every Friday in New York’s Dinner Party newsletter, senior writer Tirhakah Love plans a seating chart for the week’s main characters and asks us all to consider: Where would you sit?
Table 2 is full of toohornyforwork-type guys, so I will personally abstain from even brushing past these three dudes tirelessly opening and closing incognito windows hoping nobody notices. I know that table stank, so I’ll be dodging this little circle jerk like Olivia Wilde evading her divorce papers.
Table 3 feels like a shitstorm. The question though is whether or not mucking through the millions of mediocre podcasts — a phenomenon that Vulture’s Nicholas Quah broke down this week — with soon-to-be-former Phoenix Suns owner Robert Sarver and noted paranormalist and star of Marilyn Monroe bioflick Blonde Ana de Armas. Doesn’t seem fun. I will go ahead and say here that I have no idea if de Armas is actually a good actor or if enough men have a fantasy around her so that there’s just no way she wouldn’t be famous. Regardless, the movie is controversial, as Monroe-centered work usually is. I wonder if there’ll be a time when we as a culture let that lady rest in peace, but until then we’ll keep doing seances at her tombstone for good luck.
The real competition here, though, is between Table 1 and Table 4. Table 4 includes the recently single Nia Long, who, I imagine, just wants to focus on raising her kids and not the ridiculous-ass ex who flew way too close to the poon. Tiffany Haddish ain’t got no job after her accusations of child exploitation were exposed a couple weeks ago, so you know we’re paying for the prosecco. Marianne Williamson does provide some saving grace as a kooky white with a deep love for Avatar. And though Avatar is an epic story of decolonization, I could absolutely see why her crystal-loving ass would go up for it. With its rerelease in theaters, I just know she’d be a lit time. GloRilla and Cardi B’s new single, “Tomorrow 2,” dropped today, and though GloRilla is solidly southern (Memphis, wus good!), it’s very dope to see her mobbing NYC with its resident duchess. I love it when the rap girls big up each other publicly. Like even if they aren’t outwardly friends, the idea that they’re inviting each other onto the stage is very fucking cool. Also the song goes, so there’s that. Rounding out the table is the now-freed Adnan Syed, whose story I’m sure you’ve all heard on the podcasts of all podcasts, Serial. Good for him and damn the prison industrial complex!
It’s funny though, people are celebrating Serial as part of the reason Syed’s being released. There was enough reasonable doubt, I suppose. But it’s fascinating how this could be seen as a win for everyone when, in Serial, host Sarah Koenig never went so far as to actually say, “Hey the police handled this pretty terribly.” Justice wasn’t served and alladat, you know? So giving it to Serial for his exoneration … idk, feels suspiciously neat to me.
But who really brings this home is Sadboi Tom Brady. Mainly because I’m a hater and whatever bucolic procedure he might’ve undergone in the last year has really and truly failed him. The Bucs are still quite good, and Brady is old but competent. They might have a real playoff run in ’em. Shit, they could make it to the Super Bowl, for all we know. Usually, that would piss me off, but to know that he’s miserable through it somehow makes it worth it for me. I wanna taste the tears myself. They must be the key to immortality.
Table 1, babes. And it’s not close.