"A drab and embarrassing display of emotional exhibitionism masquerading as entertainment."

Ooh, is Charles Isherwood ever mean to Suzanne Somers in this review of her Broadway show "The Blonde in the Thunderbird."

Attired in a cruelly clingy black tights-and-tunic ensemble, Ms. Somers re-enacts or describes triumphs and traumas from her personal and professional life for a grinding 95 minutes, on a stage adorned only by a pair of video screens, an armchair, a prop phone and a coat rack. (It is curious, and telling, that Ms. Somers's magnified, two-dimensional presence on the video screens continually draws the focus away from the woman herself.)...

"I believe that everything that happened to me in my life is a blessing," Ms. Somers says in the show's waning moments, offering implicit comfort to those in the audience dogged by ill fortune. This is a simplistic and solipsistic philosophy to espouse, but it comforts me to know that Ms. Somers still believes this bromide, because, as even she would have to admit, the blessing I have hereby administered is unusually well disguised.

Hilarious!