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  • Writer's pictureJerry Della Femina


This is an old column I wrote a few years ago.

I’m repeating it because I’m too depressed about summer being over to write a new column.

The summer of 2020, which never started, will soon end.

Face it, it’s getting darker earlier and the nights are turning chilly.

Which brings us to September, which I think is the most overrated month of the year.

My wife, the beautiful Judy Licht, has always insisted September is the best month of the year in the Hamptons.

Well, here’s my case against September:

If you’re young, you have to go back to school, which I hated when I was young.

If you’re old, which I am, you have to get your tired old bones in shape for the cold, punishing winds of another winter.

And the only thing that used to make September bearable in the Hamptons was that the horrible “August people” would leave and not come back again until next August.

Well guess what? This year because of the coronavirus the disgusting August people are not leaving.

Like the coronavirus, it seems like they will be with us forever.

I can’t go on. I’m getting even more depressed.

Just read a column I wrote when I was young and happy…


A close friend of mine read an old column I wrote about my fears of the MeToo Nazis hunting me down like an animal.

In the column I talked about the innocent fun of the sexy 70s and I told the story about my walking across 5th Avenue on a snowy day, arm-in-arm with a co-worker, and my remembering for the last 46 years the feeling of her breast against my arm. He emailed me this message:

Your piece excavated a long-interred memory. When I was 12 or so, I had to have my teeth straightened by an orthodontist named Dr. Zuckerman at Broadway and 72nd St.

He was a pockmarked sadist, and in those days, the procedure involved sharp-edged wires connected to each tooth that were tightened each week to bring the teeth into line. It was torture.

The only saving grace was that he had a woman assistant in a white rayon or nylon nurse’s outfit who held and comforted the victim while Dr. Zuckerman tightened the wires. He stood to the left and nursey stood on the right. As she did so, her not-very-ample but very exciting left boob found a home in my right ear.

Silent bliss. It got so that I actually looked forward to my weekly S&M sessions.



Here’s my response:

Dear E,

Your wonderful funny story brought back a memory from when I was 15. My dentist was Dr. Grillo on Avenue U, an incompetent fool who never saw a tooth that he didn’t want to pull out. Because of Dr. Grillo the tooth fairy went broke in my neighborhood.

But he had a nurse, “Mary,” who I’m sure he was boffing. As Dr. Grillo pulled a tooth, Mary was stationed up against the patient’s arm with her amply sized breast pressing on your shoulder while she stuck this water thing in your mouth.

The more you said “AUUUUGGGGGGGH,” the closer her extraordinary right tit pressed against your arm.

It was my first experience with a push-up bra. The question we must ask the next time we’re having martinis is would you rather have a small tit in your ear or a large one pressing against your arm?

I think in this contest you win.



An elderly man was quite unhappy because he had lost his favorite hat. Rather than purchasing a new one, he decided he would go to church and steal one out of the vestibule. When he got there, an usher intercepted him at the door and took him to a pew where he had to sit and listen to an entire sermon on the Ten Commandments.

After church, the man met the preacher in the vestibule doorway, shook his hand vigorously and said, “I want to thank you for saving my soul today, preacher. I came to church to steal a hat, but after hearing your sermon on the Ten Commandments, I decided against it.”

“You mean the Commandment ‘Thou shall not steal’ changed your mind?” the preacher asked.

“No, the one about adultery did,” the old man said. “As soon as you said that, I remembered where I left my old hat.”

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