It’s a stone groove, my Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers

It’s a broke thing
*Martha Stewart’s personal wealth has plummeted since her investigation and conviction. Martha’s lost so much money John Kerry wouldn’t marry her.

Over-achiever
*John Kerry has promised to take the country back from the wealthy. Just how many $700 million heiresses does this guy plan to marry?

Worst nightmare
*They had to break it to Martha Stewart after her guilty verdict. They said; “You know, Martha, there’s a good chance you will have to spend time in that one place that you are most terrified: Martha cried, “Oh no, not K-Mart!”

Death sentence
*Now that baseball is embroiled in a full-blown steroid controversy, there are many experts who feel the only solution is zero tolerance: if caught using steroids a player is banned from baseball for life. That’s right, they have to play for the Detroit Tigers.

First things first
“The Sopranos” is back on air. In the first show this season, the Feds find out that Tony Soprano whacked off a guy’s head and buried it in a bowling bag, but until Tony lies about selling his biotech shares, they can’t put him away.

Only, thankfully, without Ross
*Due to sulfur deposits, scientists say Mars really stinks. There are no signs of life, and it stinks. Sort of like the last episodes of “Friends.”

Turkey-baste’r not included'
*David Crosby was arrested for gun and marijuana possession. It’s serious, if convicted, Crosby might not be able to father a lesbian’s child for three to six months.

Groovy kinda love
*This weekend I saw “Starsky and Hutch” and “Miracle.” I’ll tell you what a miracle is, it’s a miracle that any guy could get a date dressed they way we did back then, that’s a miracle.

Back in the Seventies, I had the exact same wrap-around Mexican sweater and blue with white stripes Adidas sneakers as Starsky. My friends called me Bazaar-sky.

Since you asked:
The fashion nostalgia exhibited in “Starsky and Hutch” reveals that time does heal all wounds. Folks, those 70’s clothes were god-awful and I know, I wore some of the most god- awful of all of them.

Clark Wallabees? A gay elf wouldn’t wear those shoes, but I had ‘em. Wild-printed and fluorescent- colored long collared polyester shirts that no self-respecting clown would be caught dead in? Wore too many to count. Long, lank hair parted down the middle, complete with, (gulp) bangs? Guilty.

But the worst had to be a pair of blue denim elephant bell-bottomed hip-huggers that were actually vertically ribbed. Those pants were so tight and so low-cut that I didn't dare stare too long at Denise Bernier’s amazing legs in those fish-net stockings, if you know what I mean. If so, that’s when the polyester shirttail came out, folks.

And if it was really bad – and, at 14, believe me, IT was always bad- I would sit there and painfully recall the Chicago Cub’s 1969 season of three years prior. That could make anything collapse.

Probably more than you needed to know.