ONBOARD S/Y BUSHIDO—The thickly pined forested hills form a perfect backdrop to the not-so-wine-dark waters off the Peloponnese. Soft greens and blues are Edward Hopper colors—as is the yellowish-white midday sunlight—noon’s inviolate stillness being a keynote of his paintings. The sea in Greece is mystically wedded to the mountains, the craggy peaks acting as phallic domes to her femininity. The beauty of sailing is ...

I’ve had a longstanding instinctive loathing of those who perpetrate gimmick art, a genre of which Lucian Freud was a master. His art was as sordid as his person, reflecting his loathing of human nature in general and women in particular. In the modern age, we are surrounded by manmade ugliness. And artists, who used to devote their effort to idealizing the human form, to recording nature’s charms and bringing order and ...

ONBOARD S/Y BUSHIDO OFF CORFU—From my porthole I can see Queen’s drummer Roger Taylor talking to his three blonde and beautiful daughters. The eldest, Rory, has just become a doctor, the other two are still kids, and there are also two very talented boys not onboard his boat Tiger Lily. One of his sons is an extremely talented drummer, which I guess goes with the territory. Rock stars do not make for typical loving ...

We all know that the rich and powerful are seldom held accountable. Take, for example, the recent case of Albert II, the Prince of Monaco, and his new wife, Charlene Wittstock. Rumors that Charlene was first kidnapped, drugged, and then forced to abide by the agreement she had signed with the Principality of Monaco—or else—went almost entirely unnoticed by the media once the runaway bride had been brought back to the palace ...

PORTO MONTENEGRO—My friend John Sutin, the world’s most generous man, could not believe his ears. Montenegro’s Tivat Airport would not allow him to land because more than 80 private jets had already booked parking spaces. So we landed in Dubrovnik instead. The Croatian airport welcomed us by rushing us through customs as if we were big shots rather than Nat Rothschild’s guests in neighboring Montenegro. A one-hour car ...

Exactly fifty years ago last Friday night going into Saturday morning—July 1st into the 2nd—in Ketchum, Idaho, Ernest Hemingway asked his wife Mary to sing an Italian song, “Tutti Mi Chiamano Vionda” (“Everyone Calls Me Blondie”), and after they both went up to bed he silently crept down the stairs, stepping softly so as to make no sound, went to the basement storage room, took out a double-barreled shotgun, ...

I first met Sir Patrick Leigh Fermor in the summer of 1977 in Corfu. I was onboard Gianni Agnelli’s boat, and the charismatic Fiat chairman asked me to go ashore and bring “a very smart Englishman whose ancient Greek is much better than yours.” I knew “Paddy,” as everyone called him, by sight, because among us Greeks he was on a par with our ancient heroes. Leigh Fermor was not only famous for his books on ...

ISLE OF ISCHIA—On a bright, windy June morning this beautiful island’s church bells rang out to welcome the most ostentatious concourse of sailing boats to have arrived at its shores since Commodore Thomas Troubridge sailed into the bay of San Angelo in 1799. Troubridge, dispatched by Lord Nelson to quell an island revolt, had brought great distinction to the family. They upheld that distinction for 200 years until in a ...

FRANKFURT—The worst part is the weigh-in: Hundreds of heavily muscled, cauliflower-eared, tattooed, menacing-looking sweaty men from Mongolia, Korea, Japan, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan, Poland, Russia, Ukraine, Turkey, Greece, Germany, Brazil, Canada, France, Hungary, the US—you name it—wait patiently and silently to step on the scales. Everyone holds his passport, which he is required to show once on the scales. It is a funny ...

Here’s the scoop on poor old Hellas, that sad little EU country given a temporary reprieve from being hauled to the municipal dump: Greece will default sometime in 2012. If there are any doubters around, this prediction comes from the great oracle of economics Taki, the very same Taki who smelled a rat even before the Greek government was caught red-handed cooking the books under the advice of the poisonous giant squid, ...

NEW YORK—Summertime, and as the song tells us, “the livin’ is easy.” The temperature is in the nineties, girls’ dresses are at their flimsiest, love is in the air, and sex is everywhere—what else can one wish for? This is my last week in the Bagel, and as always I am reluctant to leave. I’ve trained diligently, played less hard than usual, read a lot, and even managed to identify cedars, poplars, willows, and ...

In that wonderful old Broadway musical Guys and Dolls, gambler Sky Masterson is romancing the Salvation Army’s Sister Sarah Brown after an all-nighter of boozing it up in Havana. Walking Sarah home to her mission in New York, he tells her that “Only in Times Square does the dawn get turned on by an electrician.” She swoons. Those were the good old days, when Runyonesque characters such as Nathan Detroit, ...

Israel "€“ Palestine "€“ President Obama finally articulated last night what we"€™ve been waiting for since his election in 2008: Israel has to retreat to its 1967 borders. Not surprisingly, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu not only rejected the proposal, he demanded an apology from the president. This is a fine state of affairs. The aggressor and recipient of billions of dollars from Uncle Sam demands the good uncle ...

ORLANDO—A neutron bomb hit this place just as I got off the airplane, killing all humans but leaving the buildings intact. It was a horrid, unpardonable crime, and I blame the scientists. They should have done it the other way around: Kill the buildings and save the humans, however brain-dead they are in Orlando. I knew we were in trouble the moment I deplaned. There were five of us: two competitors and three coaches. We were ...

Why would a German playboy-billionaire industrialist with a large family and lots of old and good friends have dinner in Gstaad with one of his closest buddies, then go up to his chalet and put a bullet in his ...

Some thirty years or so ago, my friend P. J. O"€™Rourke came to dinner at my New York house with what was then his new bride. She was beautiful, reserved, intelligent, and after dinner she called me a male-chauvinist anti-Semitic racist before leaving the house in a fury. P. J. apologized and followed his bride out. To this day I haven"€™t figured it out, nor has P. J. They didn"€™t stay married long enough for a serious ...