You have caught me in error and unmasked me for the dilettante that I am.
First, I apologize. I had the mistaken impression based on a conversation with a Slate person that you had a relationship with this publication that parallels mine with Vanity Fair. I grovel at your toes for forgiveness.
You have further forced me to admit that I am a high-tech ignoramus, using a prehistoric program (remember Xywrite?) who has dodged and weaved all these years to avoid learning too much about the Net wars out of pure, stubborn intellectual laziness and a dash of technoterror! There. That's my tell-all. I haven't read the influential essay on the Church and the Mall, or whatever. Father Ignatius, forgive me. I guess that's why you work for Reason magazine (I've got that part right, don't I?) and I scribble for another magazine that displays Monica at Malibu. But I do know this: That judge is pissed off at Microsoft in a big way. Inelegant but at least accurate, I think. It wasn't just the doctored video, either. What the impact of his verdict will be, if there is one, I don't know. I am still reeling from the breakup of Ma Bell, truth be known. Which kind of dates me, now, doesn't it?
Since I've admitted to general worthlessness, I suppose we must not let the day pass without some little word on the Monica kickoff. I feel so cheap. But there is a rather disheartening piece in this morning's Left Coast Times describing the "blitz worthy of Patton" that has gone into marketing this young woman. An exhausted publicist is quoted: "I'm beginning to think I really should have gone to West Point to really do this the right way." Really.
We are also treated to the spectacle of Judith Regan accusing "these people ... of pimping this girl, and it's disgusting." Of course, Judith bid big on Monica and lost. Now she says, "She's an adulterer and she should be walking around with a scarlet A."
Regan aside, here's my question: Is this porn? I guess not. Apparently at this point in the decline of Western civilization, it meets community standards. Does it have redeeming social or literary value? Perhaps as a cautionary tale? If you become a White House intern and start rolling around with the president, don't tell bitter gargoyles--especially not on the phone? But then again, isn't the real moral that crime pays?
I also query: Are you aware of Monica viewing parties this evening in my hometown? Are you going to watch?
Need to know,