It’s been some time now since I last read one of these magazine pieces in the Eustace Tilly tradition. I had forgotten the tone of self-satisfaction and the subtle hint that the reader is overhearing what those at the center of the world talk about. Stuff like Wolcott’s had a good run, but the artifice became a bore a long time ago, and the news for the pre-Galileans is that nobody is at the center of the world. Exquisite writing? More like Nick Coleman at a costume party in top hat and spats, looking like Mr. Peanut.