I’m in New York. In all my years of flying over “flyover country,” as the part of our nation that actually elects the president is “graciously ” referred to by us elite coastal types, I have never taken the “red eye” West to East (the reverse many times). I’ve always been afraid I wouldn’t be able to sleep and my brains would turn to brie, as I have heard that organ described by neurosurgeons.
Anyway, it seems to be behaving passably for the moment, at least for now. Soon, no doubt, I will be in a semi-comatose state.
Meanwhile, have a look at this piece in the WSJ, which confirms what I’ve been saying on this blog for some time regarding the strange silence of Hollywood on the murder of filmmaker Theo Van Gogh. [You’ve made six films. Why don’t you get credit for speaking out?-ed. You tell me.]