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It seems Pope Francis needs to brush up on his Tertullian!

It has been reported (in The ChristLast Media, I must note) that the current Pope does not like the phrase "lead us not into temptation...

"Let no freedom be allowed to novelty, because it is not fitting that any addition should be made to antiquity. Let not the clear faith and belief of our forefathers be fouled by any muddy admixture." -- Pope Sixtus III

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Whatever happened to...


...Roxanne Pulitzer?

Who cares? Beats me.

I don't really care. Sometimes one is simply curious.

Roxanne Pulitzer was a Cinderella tale gone horribly wrong who came out on the losing end of a sensational divorce trial in 1983 with Herbert "Peter" Pulitzer, a wealthy real estate mogul and grandson of the famed publisher.

In the media-circus trial she was accused of being an "incorrigible coke slut" and an unfit mother who "humped almost everything she could get her hands on". The most outrageous accusation was that she had "slept with a trumpet" leading to the moniker "the strumpet with the trumpet".

She parlayed her notoriety into an appearance in Playboy in June 1985.

After that, Roxanne wrote a few books. And there was that made-for-tv-movie written from her point of view.

Here's an update from kathleenbush.com:

For many years, Roxanne lived in high society, but that was not where she came from—quite the contrary. She grew up in a small town outside Buffalo , New York . Her father abandoned her when she was four, leaving behind a wife and four children. "It was tough growing up, but I have a great family who grounded me and instilled morals and values in me," she said. Roxanne started working at 10-years-old; she ironed clothes, picked apples and grapes and said she did just about "everything." She also put herself through college in Florida , where she majored in anatomy and physiology. To pay for school, Roxanne sold life insurance. Her mentor's client was Peter Pulitzer, who she became acquainted with in '74 and later married in '76. "I married someone who had quite a bit of wealth," she said. "I didn't get any settlement or alimony when we divorced, so I went back to where I had been, a working girl living in an apartment, teaching aerobics for four or five years. In June of '85, I posed for Playboy Magazine in order to pay lawyer fees for the landmark Pulitzer versus Pulitzer case, which made it to the Supreme Court. Life has been a roller-coaster ride, but I never forget what I did, where I came from, and how I got there. So there is nothing that makes me afraid of losing the materialistic things—as I am sure I can get them back on my own." In '88, Villard, a division of Random House, contacted Roxanne to write a book titled Prize Pulitzer . Making it onto the New York Times bestseller's list, this book was later turned into a made for- TV movie. After that, Random House contracted Roxanne to write several more books.

It wasn't until '99, that Tim Boberg and Roxanne Pulitzer encountered each other. They met in Palm Beach , Florida , where Roxanne had spent most of her adult life. A mutual friend threw a party for Boberg. The two were instantly attracted to each other; most likely because their lives seemed to have paralleled each other's—both criss-crossed the economic vortex. Like Pulitzer, Boberg was born into a poor family in Chicago , near a wealthy suburb. Boberb saw himself as the kid from the wrong-side-of-the-tracks because he grew up in a modest, one-bathroom home, while many of his friends had Rolls Royces and Bentleys parked in their driveways. "It never really bothered me or my parents," said Boberg. "It gave me an idea of what the good life could be and what you could achieve if you worked hard. That is what I did; I worked hard and I was very lucky. It also taught me that those people [the rich] are really no smarter or better than anyone; the only difference are the possessions they have."

Similarly, Boberg worked his way through college. He attended a small liberal arts school, where he jokingly claims he majored in beer with a double minor in business and economics. After spending 35 years in Chicago , Boberg moved to Brazil for two years. During the two years, he adapted to the weather and found Chicago winters unbearable upon his return. He didn't last more than six weeks in the city before heading to Hilton Head for 10 years and then off to Miami for another 10 years, where he founded a highly successful productivity consulting firm. This is the time frame he met and fell in love with Roxanne.

When the two knew they wanted to share a life together, they started exploring options in ski resort towns. Aspen had too much attitude. Jackson Hole was too cold. It ultimately came down to Telluride; they found the climate as pleasant as the people. In January '01, they ventured into a new life—a mountain life, followed shortly thereafter by retirement. "We've both retired since moving here. We are into a different stage of our lives," said Pulitzer. "I have never put this much time and effort into decorating and building a home. I was really worried about Tim being home seven days a week. I thought he was going to hate retirement, but I totally pegged him wrong."

Pulitzer and Boberg embrace this lifestyle change. She has taken up gardening; while his passion for art has evolved into architecture. She spends her days caring for 92-plus plants and looks forward to raising orchids this summer. He, on the other hand, supervises a 13,600-square-foot addition to their home, equipped with a bowling alley—a birthday gift to Pulitzer. Most days you'll find them dressed in casual jeans, t-shirts and slippers looking like young love birds. He calls her Rox. He is her baby. They find mountain living refreshing, particularly on the days they are on the slopes skiing or taking a hikes into Telluride's splendid countryside. The laid-back atmosphere of Telluride is an easy transition from their high-society days. They admit they are finally black-tied out. They relish the peace and serenity of the mountains.

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First of all, the word is SEX, not GENDER. If you are ever tempted to use the word GENDER, don't. The word is SEX! SEX! SEX! SEX! For example: "My sex is male." is correct. "My gender is male." means nothing. Look it up. What kind of sick neo-Puritan nonsense is this? Idiot left-fascists, get your blood-soaked paws off the English language. Hence I am choosing "male" under protest.

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