IN HER OWN WORDS:  My name is Patsy Clinestein.  I was born on Long Island, New York in the fall of 1932.  By the 1950's my career as a country western singer songwriter was in full swing, performing my hits, Crazy (For Marrying Morey)
and I Fall For Reese's, in the Catskills. 

All was going well for me until that shapely shiksa from Virginia not only stole my name, but my songs as well... even though some vindictive shmendriks claim it's the other way around... and changed all the words.  Suddenly the bookings started to dry up.  First I lost the Catskills, then the Poconos and finally Atlantic City.

"Oy vey!," I wailed to my manager,  Manny  Labovitz, while noshing on an onion bagel, with just the lightest smear of cream cheese... really... and a couple lox.  "That Patsy Cline girl has stolen my identity!"

That's when Manny spoke the words that haunted me for years.  "Well, Patsy, she's got a better figure than you, she's more attractive and, well, she can... sing.  And as for stealing your songs..."

"Stop!," I screached, unwilling to hear another word.

Devastated, I withdrew from the limelight and went into seclusion for several years.  Then, in 1957, a miracle happened --  Sweet 'n Low was introduced to the market... and I became a compulsive collector.  My analyst, Dr. Reubenstein, said the profound loss in relation to my career possibly sparked my obsession.  I suppose it's possible.  All I know is I spent the next 49 years traveling around the country collecting Sweet 'n Low packets from restaurants, coffee shops, airlines... I just couldn't control myself.  No matter how many I had, I always wanted more.  And now that I've been in recovery, I'm not ashamed to tell you -- things got worse before they got better.

After a while, Sweet 'n Low's weren't enough to quench my need to possess.  I started collecting ketchup packets, creamers, plastic utensils, cello-wrapped toothpicks, soy sauce packs.. you name it..  Once I'd filled the spare room in my Miami condo with my prized collectibles, I was forced to rent a storage bay to hold the overflow!

And then one day I woke up and said to myself, "These pre-packaged condiments and plastic utensils -- even the ones with the salt and pepper packets and napkins included --will never fill the void inside me.  What I need to do is go back and repair a wrong happened nearly 5 decades ago.  So I gave my collection to my neighbor, Mrs. Goldman (who was completely delighted), packed my bags and headed for Las Vegas to... set the record straight!