Okay, now I don't want to ruin this week's Saturday Night Live for you West Coast people... wait... I just had a thought... I'd like the West Coast a lot better if it started at the western border of Arizona and just sorta ran north to Alaska, disregarding Canada completely (always wise).

Back to the topic at hand. SNL is nearly painful sometimes. For example, when they have folks that aren't actors as hosts. Cringe. And folks, part of the challenge of live TV is that you can't break character. That doesn't mean you only break character sometimes--you just DON'T.

Speaking of Jonah, here's a bit of history, aka my first and only mention by (nick)name in National Review Online. That was about 3 years ago and it hasn't shown up since then. Down at the bottom, in the Corrections--you'll note the high import of the topic, but Mr. Goldberg doesn't make mention of my inebriated state at the time of my correspondence. He was right and I was wrong, even though there's room for argument if you're up for that sort of thing. I wasn't.

Note also that the column, as written, was late.

And it begins. I've started this more or less because Jonah Goldberg has gone crazy. He can't read this right now--word is he touched a piece of sausage and a combination of vegetarianism, spontaneous Orthodoxy, and (at the very last moment) culinary snobbery left him gibbering in a language that only translates into cuneiform. Poor Jonah. Get well soon! Eat meat!

Now, give me a couple of days to get my template worked out.