You owners of Wow are soooo naive .   .   . those of us "in the know" - you know, like Liz, and obviously NOT like you - know that "young pre-teen boy" who was her date (who she talks about a little too freely - don’t you think?), I mean REAL-LY, is her "cover" for what she is really doing.  You see, the kid loves her and would do anything - and I mean any-thing for her - so when she asked him if he had any older friends - or a father-figure would do, she said (as Liz can squeeze anything out of anybody, as we all know all too well!!), this naive youngster said "Sure, I know a couple".  Next thing we knew, one of us - and I can’t tell you who as you know how those things go - has seen Liz out, avoiding her regular haunts, of course - but looking all pink in the cheeks with an Ashton Kutcher lookalike (only younger).  And if the actions under the table were what looked like what were going on in plain sight, welllllllllllll, Demi Moore is going to be coming to Liz to take some more lessons.  That Liz Smith is simmering, gals … the hottest fountain of youth I have ever seen.  I don’t know about you, but if she has "leftovers", she can call my number any time.    

A major trade is forthcoming.

                                       THE MYSTERY IS SOLVED

When Liz Smith had her birthday recently Marlo posted a front page news headline that said something to the effect of "Woman Refuses to Grow Old." I now think it’s time to reveal the mystery behind this:

 Many years ago when Liz was still Elizabeth and globe trotting to exotic spots she landed one summer in sunny Tuscany, at that time touted as the land of milk and honey. She didn’t drink a lot of their milk, but she did run into  a lot of honey; one in particular who was the local painter/artist by the name of Dorian Belloinzi.  "Mama Mia!" he cried the first time he laid eyes on her, "I musta paint this bella perfecto!." He looked like a conjurer ought with a lacquered center part in his jet black hair, film-star mustache, top hat, and would wave his long paintbrushes around like a magic wand. He was very clever and insufferably vain. But no matter, he eventually won Liz over who in those days was still wet behind the ears and other places. They spent a lot of time together as she posed for the painting, but there came a time when Dorian wanted more. Liz put her foot down. Dorian put his brush down and proposed a proposal: If he could bed her, he would not only make magic on the mattress, he would make magic with the painting. It would age, but she, not so much. By this time Liz, who still believed in sin and redemption, took a chance and let him have his way with her finding that Italian lovers are all that they are cracked up to be. At summer’s end she returned to New York, bathing in the glow of the warm and sunny. At first she hung her portrait in her bedroom, but as years went by she replaced it with an Andy Warhol and stuck Dorian’s work in the back of her closet next to her fabulous jackets. Last spring, when the buds were bursting, someone, a good friend of Liz’s, who will remain nameless, needed a jacket to wear for something or other and while rummaging around in said closet discovered the portrait. It resembled Liz, but it looked like a woman in her eighties. She confronted Liz who laughed it off, said it was her little secret and if this person told anyone about this she would expose this person’s sleeping around with various and sundry. So how did I come upon this story––this mystery revealed? I cannot say, but I can tell you, unequivocally, it comes from the best of sources