K2

And because reading this makes me wish both Bitkin and Elie had been there in New Orleans last October when everybody was discussing this precise point. Something about Elie’s interpretation of the book strikes me as off, particularly when he claims that those who read it as “a conversion story” do so on “slender evidence.” To me, the most compelling sign that Binx has begun to respond to divine grace is that he marries Kate. I believe the dénouement of The Moviegoer , ambiguous though it may be, gives us hope that Binx, who hitherto had, as Hans Urs von Balthasar writes, “enter[ed] into relationships answerable only to his own psychology’s principle of ‘this far and no further,'” has a chance, in his marriage, to “grow, beyond himself, into real love, by modeling his life on the form enjoined.” Von Balthasar makes a splendid glossator for Percy, in fact. The fun part is, now that Binx has a Facebook page , I suppose we c...

Sigh.

Wednesday evenings this summer, the London West Hollywood Hotel is opening its rooftop pool deck/bar to the public for happy hour.  Because the management knows that you have better things to do with your time on a Wednesday afternoon than drink and take in the view from ten stories above Los Angeles, they are attempting to sweeten the pot by offering free beer, wine, and vodka-based cocktails from 6 p.m.-7 p.m.  Thank you for your attention.

No one got hurt in the fire, but it was reported that one million rats were consumed in the flames. They say a million rats laid down Their lives the day Seattle blazed To ash. The town within the town Asleep: nocturnal rats unfazed By daytime noises gone awry — Such dreams of fish and apple pie In ovens, crusts and marmalades In garbage cans for midnight raids Danced through, from cell to cell, their small Uncluttered rodent brains as flame Consumed with wagging tongue the lame And fat ones first but nearly all In crackling bites. The lithe ones woke But only soon enough to choke. [image source]

Last night I traveled back in time in order to predict my future.  Sometime in the late ’90s, Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion advertised for a comedy writer.  Guess who applied?  We had to write three skits.  This commercial for Ed’s House of Big Pants was one of mine.  In theory, I can do a better GK impression than I do here, but I think it gives the general idea. Untitled 5 (The awful whining in the background is the hard drive of the ancient computer that holds the text.)

Taken in the men’s locker room at the La Mesa Community Center Pool.  The plaque below the clock reads, “In memory of fellow swimmers Alva, Doriene, and Mary – Women who used their time well.”

…well, if you like ducks , anyway. H/T Althouse

It’s a wise man who knows not to let the perfect be the enemy of the good. But at this point, I’ll settle for not letting the good be the enemy of the done.

Not a Cartoon Moose from 50 Hour Slam on Vimeo . 50 Hour Slam encore screening info .

Above is Charles Ryder’s sketch of Sebastian Flyte being sick through the window of Charles’ first-floor rooms while being attended by angels, taken from the BBC production of Brideshead Revisited , which is now available on Netflix Instant, which means I’m going to have a devil of a time getting anything done for a while.  How good is Brideshead ?  Even Christopher Hitchens liked it.   I’m glad, really; it takes the sting out of Joe Eszterhas totally harshing my Surfing with Mel buzz.  Hang it all anyway.  I’m still going to finish my version, though.  Fiction, after all, is news that stays, and I suspect that Mr. Eszterhas and I have different aims…