New year, same ol’ nonsense

I AM BACK! And because of my enormous maximum wisdom, I tell you that 85% of Americans are confused about US foreign policy. Startling, especially when you consider the poll was taken at the State Department.

With respect to my Catholic friends, I ask only understanding. I have one question: Why Christmas? The year’s most joyful, blessed holiday. It’s laughter, happiness, loving, feasting, drinking. It’s shopping and wrapping and hugging and dressing the tree. It’s joy to the world.

It’s hark the herald angels sing. Not saying Netanyahu should send Zelensky a decent fitting suit. Forget designers now pushing boobs so high that noses overlap.

So this is the exact time to hand over Cardinal Timothy Dolan? Whom NYC loves, adores, treasures? The only time Rome, between fittings for new robes, the only time in an entire year to do this? What happened to maybe Jan. 20, Feb. 16 or March 3?

What’s a bigger mazel tov for NYC than this newbie from Chicago? Make this change on a holy holiday — a bless all, love all, give thanks to all Christmas?

Happy few minutes as the new year begins. Today, Tiny Tim would be stuck with major medical bills and Scrooge on Social Security. Crapdammy says goodness is just down the block. Yeah? Check his staffers. He’s missing only Harvey Weinstein, Bob Menendez and a pardon for Diddy. Forget Hunter. Can’t get his cash register down the chimney — the Biden brothers may be stuck in it.

Free parking spaces? Great idea. Watch them get filled with garbage bins roomy enough for Bernie the spitter and former bartender AOC. Info is that they are not yet large enough for Crapdammy.

Saddling up for a delicacy

I need to tell you about Kazakhstan, a nice little winter resort an ice cube off Siberia. Saturday’s NY Times had a full page on Kazakhstan. A few years ago, travel specialist Geoffrey Weill and I, searching new places to see, went there. Our banquet was prepared with local guests. Giant platter. Noodles. Atop the mountainous noodles: meat. Horse! Cooked horse! Schlepping halfway around the world to stuff myself with Heigh-Ho-Silver was not what I was about to do. Geoffrey and I went heavy on noodles. It was right after Christmas. I carried a brand-new purse that had been shown one week before on Fifth Avenue. A local lady came by carrying the same purse. The Times story was headlined: “Kazakhstan sets sights on more oil riches.” Yeah, right. And if you dine there, check for hooves.

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Curtain lifts on Frank & Marilyn

New audio book “Frank & Marilyn,” about Sinatra and Monroe and their “no cabaret tax, no minimum charge relationship at the Copacabana.” The Copa’s dinner in the ’40s: $2.75. Romance and rumba began at 2 a.m. The comic: Peter Lind Hayes. “New personality — Desi Arnaz.” The book, by Edward Z. Epstein, is about the love and sex ‘twixt Sinatra and Monroe back when a shrimp cocktail cost less than their hotel room.

COMPLAINT: People magazine did a fashion page picturing a black Saint Laurent gown with its entire cheeky bottom, the whole complete arse, with total closeup view of the backside, crack and all. Zoë Kravitz wore this to a Vanity Fair Oscar party last year. Her entire naked behind on view. Next year’s version will be what? The ass will show her ass complete with its own toilet paper? Enough to make a bow?! Oy.

Only in New York, kids, only in New York.