As soon as the Federal Bureau of Insinuation let loose its lurid 1,300-page scandal sheet on Frank Sinatra last week, an anxious populace began asking itself the agonizing question: "Does this mean I have to reassess my position on the legendary swinging blue-eyed crooner from Hoboken, N.J., who embodied popular music and indeed pop culture in the latter half of the 20th century while swaggering about obnoxiously with his dissolute lackeys, or can I just bag it and catch a few hours of sleep and then go to work in the morning just as if nothing earthshaking had occurred?"
Well, don't...
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