DON’T WORRY FOLKS, THIINGS ARE JU-S-S-T FINE…

Just now, on Charlie Rose, a guest host whose name I didn’t catch was filling in for Charlie’s corpse and hosting a panel of Martin Amis, Carol Blue, Leslie Cockburn and Douglas Brinkley. The topic was “What Would Hitch Say?”

Evidently, the late Christopher Hitchens, who was known mostly for being for and against everything before and after he was for and against it, has achieved a status previously confined to the likes of Aristotle, Jesus and Thomas Jefferson: What would the dead man think about our current predicament (you know, the one bearing the initials DT)?

Yes, that’s what it’s come to…Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the modern intelligentsia! So devoid of any thoughts of their own they have to channel a dead pundit to be able to express themselves properly.

And the smug solemnity of the participants occurred in a vacuum so complete it achieved reverse zero negative awareness of its own complicity (or Chris Hitchens’) in our “predicament.”

Jesus Christ, I know a man chooses his friends, but if these were the best he could do, I begin to understand why this particular man stayed sloshed for the entirety of his adult life. I almost feel a kind of solidarity with him, too, because I can now imagine him being granted some kind of dispensation in the afterlife he didn’t believe in just so he can join my future ghost in a chorus of something no man of his gentle breeding would have ever let his hair down far enough to enjoy while he was stuck here, where the mysteries of the universe so obvious to some of us are forever bound to befuddle our betters….Come on Hitch. Sing it with me! (Cue the Sun God.)

 

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