Reading Cindy Adams Is Quite an Experience

Cindy Adams is a legendary gossip columnist who has penned columns for the New York Post since 1979. Forty years ago, she secured a syndication deal ensuring audiences from sea to nosy sea were privy to her unique style and willingness to tackle the rich and infamous. By any metric, it's been an incredible run and writers should feel inspired by her ability to still bring a fastball at the age of 91. And a reliable, flummoxing curveball.

All of this to mention with great curiosity at her latest column in the Post, published yesterday. Centered around the upcoming Q&A tour starring Donald Trump and Bill O'Reilly, it begins:

Network throats hawk Joe Boredom. Newspapers wrap around fish and Pelousy.

Refugees speak about no-kan-do Kamala. Donald’s newfound silence isn’t golden.

Comes now a never before thing. Shove tweets. It’s D. Trump himself, once the dominant decisionmaker and most powerful person in the world, on a historic speaking tour. Former President Trump will provide a never-before-heard inside view of his administration. In itself that’s historic.

Are we still wrapping newspapers around fish? Is the implication that Pelosi is a fish, that she stinks or both? Does it mean newspapers are only good for such a foul chore? If so, is that not a remarkably odd thing to lead with in a column published in a newspaper?

Now, let me be perfectly clear here. Far too frequently we're forced to read staid, confined writing. Adams just grips it and rips it. Plays the game with feel. Paragraphs are like jazz, meandering into unexpected places at unexpected pace. In all sincerity, it radiates with life — which is not nothing.

The only problem, and it could be a personal one, is that I often have an extremely hard time making heads or tails out of it.

Adams' previous column was both equally entertaining and confounding. Titled Brides are desperate for strapless bras, it wastes no time grabbing your arm and forcing rapt attention.

June. Brides month. Big misery? Those bits and pieces, once inside wedding gowns, now aren’t. The behind has become forefront. The back crack is now way out. A bosom, no longer in one’s bosom, is the modern centerpiece.

The neckline slit’s deep plunge joins another slit. The sides are all cut out. Trash is cash. Even if shaped like a gorilla, today’s bride wants a strapless bra. But can NOT! get one.

Lori Kaplan of Bra Tenders hides or heaves whatever jiggles or juggles onstage — G-strings, bloomers, bras, thongs, tights, custom corsets, boob tape and knickers for all of Broadway’s high kickers. Built like a moose? K cup? She has a hammock for you. Kim Kardashian’s used duct tape. For men, they do dance belts, even guy-strings for nude scenes.

Adams may be a Page Six staple but there's absolutely no way the previous five pages could ever prepare one for what they encounter in her prose. It's the type of stuff that would make a subway straphanger hand their paper over to a stranger and implore them to "get a load of this."

Timeless.

All of this raises a few important questions. Is Cindy Adams having A Moment? Are we in the beginning stages of an Adamssaince? Deciphering the code is a laborious process, but the journey is worth the view. Or so I'm guessing. Still working out the countless riddles under the byline, which is perhaps the point?