They say there are things we really don’t need to know. I don’t really care to know how hot dogs are made, how planes stay in the air or how Judith Regan, once the most hated woman in publishing, has found herself. It’s what we call: TMI (too much information).

I once sat across the table from Ms Regan as she told me her view on the only good use for men. Then she began, eh, acting it out with her hands. It gives hand puppets a whole new meaning. Again: TMI.

There’s a Harper’s Bazaar piece coming out on her in December, apparently she’s found herself in the midst of a karaoke bar in China singing “My Way”. All righty then.

TMI, TMI, TMI