If public opinion was forming Voltron, for the tracking, hunting and merciful killing of the Rovian Way and petering Republicanism in its lesser forms, the exhausted ideas, and bald ploys, I suspect we just found the codpiece.
Late this afternoon I sat down after taking a walk with Miss Ella, and re-read one of my favorite early chapters in Speak, Memory; I keep it on the lid of the toilet, so in a way I'm never not reading it. Still, in Nabokov's heartthrobbing chromaticism I snatched this recollection, a fine proxy for the present hour:
The old and the new, the liberal touch and the patriarchal one, fatal poverty and fatalistic wealth got fantastically interwoven in that strange first decade of our century.
Finding: No Equal Agency Among Persons
Not even to affect change upon their own immediate environments.
There are no slippery slopes, but some are steppy.
You can see the steps, and they're going ...