Title: Hello, Silence, My Old Friend . . .
Review: I don't blame Whitney--too much.I blame the people who're "managing" her, who're exploiting her looks, who're providing her opportunities she's not ready for, who're telling her she's funnier than she actually is. Her accountants, probably.I don't know, maybe someday, if she keeps working at it, she will indeed be funny. But she ain't funny yet. And if her "people" really cared about her, they'd have told her so. And they'd have reined her in a bit, the way jockeys reign in their horses. And they'd have continued working her, running her around the track till she was good and frothy. And then they'd have mucked out her stall and strapped on her feed bucket and waited for the right time, the right conditions. That's why you gotta love jockeys, even though they're kinda scary in a group of four or more, because they do what's right for their horses.Whitney, if you're reading this, fire your people. Find yourself a jockey. And tally ho, my sweet. Tally ho . . .
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