Lopez’s love conquers all

Forget that Jennifer Lopez’s magazine pieces can cause diabetes, employees whisper she’s tough. It’s all her. Only her. She’s acknowledged that she was desperate to become a star.

Slowing professionally because 20-year-old newbies are cropping up, she’s now producing her own projects.

Sweating to book them Radio City Music Hall is not.

See, every generation brings her type. Then they pffft. Like Elizabeth Taylor Hilton Wilding Todd Fisher Burton Burton Warner Fortensky each of them grabs onto another new male specie, same as firemen clutching a shiny new pole to slide onto.

Her poles include Sean Combs, Marc Anthony, Casper Smart, Cris Judd, Ojani Noa, Alex Rodriguez, Drake, Ben Affleck.

Next up for her, who knows. Maybe a partridge in a pear tree.

She’s now desperate to pretend temp Affleck is still happy happy with her. Why? Because it’s embarrassing. She’s wrung dry so many. Only Biden’s left.

Her interest is only for yet another p.r. outfit to place yet another photo of her in yet another dress in yet another newspaper and don’t discuss the simonizing, which bad nasty folk might consider retouching.

We who have experienced her, we know her.

Stay and roll over for French

Stories of dogs appearing at the Cannes Film Festival because France loves dogs?

Once my 5-pound Yorkie accompanied me to Paris. Everyone there had been rude. France’s ambassador told me: “Madame, the French don’t even like the French.”

When I brought my Yorkie they presented china, food, water, bones, another chair, petted, photographed, cootchy-coo’d her. The staff cuddled, hugged her.

I returned two years later without my dog — again they weren’t nice to me.

Pushing ’47

The Tony Awards began 1947. Marlon Brando in Tennessee Williams’ “A Streetcar Named Desire” won the Pulitzer. A ticket then set you back $19.

Arthur Miller’s “All My Sons” won Drama Critics’. Basil Rathbone grabbed something for “The Heiress.” All went nuts for Judith Anderson in “Medea.”

John Gielgud was in “The Importance of Being Earnest.” That year’s musicals “High Button Shoes,” “Finian’s Rainbow” at the 46th Street Theatre and “Brigadoon” at the Ziegfeld still get schlepped out and revived — same as “Cabaret” and “Oklahoma.”

Tallulah Bankhead — whom years later I interviewed in the ladies’ toilet — was the Grande Dame. Me, young, scared. There was no paper in the john. Banging on the partition, she asked have I paper. No. Then, Kleenex? No. Next, ruffling in her bag and her asking, “Do you have two fives for a ten?”

Movie star James Mason was in “Bathsheba.” Him I didn’t interview in the toilet.

“Hamlet,” which creeps out annually crept into City Center, “Cyrano” was someplace, “The Iceman Cometh” cameth to the Martin Beck.