Program note: We’ve lost the legal battle to reclaim the Western White House and the Foundation won’t surrender the keys to the helicopter even though it’s simply sitting out behind the Library collecting layer upon layer of Yorba Linda dust. Consequently we’re relocating to more cordial climes where we hope to be better appreciated. Regular dispensings of wisdom will resume in about 10 days; until then we’re on a catch-as-can schedule.
You can’t imagine how popular the Harry Potter series is. We have weekends; everybody running around pointing sticks at each other, shouting “Levicorpus!” and giggling hysterically. Henry Asquith, who introduced me to The Mekons, does a brilliant Snape.
(I know what you’re thinking, the answer is no.)
There’s this fellow Charlie Pierce who writes at Esquire, reminds me somewhat of the late Hunter Thompson; subtract the fixation on guns and drugs, less a little apocalyptic fancy, and you get something similar. I like him better even though the things he says about me are similarly cruel if not to the level of the obituary Thompson wrote for me. I’ve seen mafia hits less bloody than that.
Pierce wrote something today that embodies a problem one sees a lot. People begin down a road and arrive at a point beyond which they simply will not go because their beliefs force them to see a brick wall despite that the road stretches on for miles.