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The Monday Morning Memo

I Did Not Make It Up.

ROUND TWO

Before he became an actor, writer and director, 19-year old
Orson Welles was a mime who worked the Champs-Élysées for tips.
The closing impression of his wandering, 8-minute act was to read the label on an imaginary bottle of wine, pull the cork with great difficulty,
pour himself a glass, sniff it, swirl it and sip it, then sit down at an
imaginary table where he toasted his audience with the wine glass
– looking each of them directly in the eye – before spilling the
wine on himself, tumbling out of the imaginary chair and
knocking over the imaginary table in his attempt to
catch the imaginary glass before it hit the ground.

AM I MAKING THIS UP?
click your answer

YES       NO

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Random Quote:

“MARION CAPRON: What kind of work did you do at Vogue?

DOROTHY PARKER: I wrote captions. This little pink dress will win you a beau, that sort of thing. Funny, they were plain women working at Vogue, not chic. They were decent, nice women – the nicest women I ever met – but they had no business on such a magazine. They wore funny little bonnets and in the pages of their magazine they virginized the models from tough babes into exquisite little ones. Now the editors are what they should be: all chic and worldly; most of the models are out of the mind of Bram Stoker, and as for the caption writers – my old job – they're recommending mink covers at seventy-five dollars apiece for the wooden ends of golf clubs – for the friend who has everything. Civilization is coming to an end, you understand.”

- from an interview published in the Paris Review, 1956

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