At LAX, waiting for a connecting flight to JFK. From where I sit I can see fifty-seven people – not counting the people walking to their gates. Sixteen of them are couples. Of those fifty-seven people, forty-nine are on their phones, pads or laptops. Of the remaining eight, four are sleeping. One man just woke up and checked his phone. A man five rows down is talking loudly into his headset; he’s pissed off because Chuck should have sent the breakdown yesterday. Past th

There’s something liberating about knowing you’re going to catch hell for a book (or a blog); it saves you from the small lies of diplomacy and cowardice. I’ve danced around this subject for twenty years, filled up notebooks with ideas, talked about it with family and friends. The more I thought about it, the more intimidated I became, overwhelmed by the sheer size and complexity of the subject. It’s time. I have a problem with the rapid technologizing of our world. A big p

So Scott Walker has packed his tent and gone, and the voice I hear is Lizzie Bennet’s in Pride and Prejudice as George Wickham recedes in the distance: “Go, go, we would not wish you back again.” Alas, I suspect Scotty will be back whether we wish it or not; for the shameless, there’s always a second act. Speaking of tents and shamelessness, the Carnival That is Trump seems to have secured a longer engagement than most of us (yours truly included) thought possible. I was gro