“But we’ve been so pervasively flambéed in the morally limp liquor of postmodernism that we’ve become unable to muster the indignation to rid our public life of lupine slough-offs like Gary Condit.” – Scott “lightly sauteed but never limp” Galupo in National Review Online.
INTRODUCING THE STREISAND AWARD: “Death, liberation, eternity, the sea, heaven–what are the D train or the Q train to me, who am lost in the “Breakfast Table” poems? (Except that I have to take those damn trains to get anywhere.) That is how things stand with me, Sarah. It has been this way ever since Al Gore won the election and didn’t end up president. I hold sea shells to my ear. I moon over old poems. I am distraught. Isn’t that what you are saying, too, in your own fashion, going on about van Gogh and all? I gaze at the headlines. I reel. “President who?” I say. “He did what?” And I return to the whispering sea shells and think about eternity. …” – Paul Berman, Slate. Readers are invited to send in occasional quotes which in their sentimentality, narcissism, pretentiousness and Hollywood-Manhattan parochialism are worthy of the great left-wing diva. (My apologies to Paul Berman, who is usually a terrific and cogent lefty. I guess we all have our off-days.)