Robert Wagner, now 80 and schlepping reverse mortgage scams for a living, is having his memoirs serialized by the Daily Mail. Is there anything more pathetic than an eighty year old man talking about his sexual conquests?

The real affairs, however, had considerably more charm. One night, I met the great actress Joan Crawford at a cocktail party and was surprised when she suggested I follow her back to her house. When we got there, she invited me for a swim, telling me there were some trunks down by the pool and I could help myself. I did so and got in the pool.

After a few minutes, Joan, who was 25 years older than me, came out of the house with nothing on, dived gracefully off the board, swam the length of the pool underwater and came up right between my legs.

'Hi there!' she said in her most vivacious voice. It was a lovely, creative invitation and I responded accordingly.

Reminds me of Geraldo's boast of having slept with Bette Midler--distinctly creepy.

I don't know why his publisher thought this would be a good idea, because its doubtful his peer group is much interested and pretty much anybody under the age of sixty-five has lived through the sexual revolution and won't be terribly impressed. How much more interesting his memoir would be if he could tell us something more about these remarkable women than the quality of their sexual appetites.

And there's the rub.

Wagner apparently never evolved past the archaic view of women as sexual objects and not much else. He's a sad reminder that the greatest generation weren't great at everything.

I do like the photo of Liz Taylor though. A much better memory than the risible image she's portrayed for the last twenty years or so.