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Sam Lipsyte and Lucinda Rosenfeld

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Should Gore Pop a Halcion?

By Lucinda Rosenfeld
Posted Thursday, Nov. 16, 2000, at 1:57 PM ET

Dear Sam,

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First off, my apologies for sleeping through this morning's first "Breakfast Table" posting. Yes, I was out late making my usual rounds--you know, drunk driving, inhaling marijuana, filching goal posts, that kind of thing. In addition, I may or may not have decapitated a pig and left the offending head on the front stoop of a rival fraternity house, but that's for me to know and you to wonder about.

As for the dawning of our Breakfast Table, there's a mourning period built into every type of loss, Sam, even this kind. So if you're feeling a little blue right now, it's perfectly natural. What I'm trying to say, Sam, is that I just don't think you need to resort to drastic measures at a time like this. There will be other breakfasts, other tables. I know it's hard to believe, but Slate will call again. Though if you want to write me a suicide note, you should feel free to do so--with the understanding that I will eventually publish it under my own name and in doing so am likely to win accolades and acolytes alike, what with my pithy prose style, my emotional honesty, and my probing insights into the human condition. Speaking of which, have you read my hot new story collection, Venus Drive??

A public defender from the Bronx walked up to me at a party last night and said, "I know you--you're the one who wrote that book, I f--cked Jack, John, Jim, Tom, Dick, and Harry or something like that. ..." Needless to say, I told him he was confusing me with Sam Lipsyte. Then I poured on a drink on his fat head. No, that's not true. Though I would have liked to have poured a drink on his fat head. OK, I admit it. I'm cranky and hung over.

Didn't see Fish's editorial in the Times yesterday, but I tend to agree that the kind of guy who gets all "no, please, really, you deserve it"-ish at a moment like this isn't the kind of guy we necessarily want as president of the United States. I mean, if you won the popular vote, were ahead in the Electoral College, and then found yourself 300 votes down in a disputed ballot count in a notoriously corrupt state, would you step aside gracefully, pop a Halcion, and announce to the world that it's the small things in life that matter? And that you're "just as happy spending the next four years catching up with [your] family, playing touch football with Tipper, and getting to know [your] little whipper-snapper of a grandson, What's-his-name"? Don't think so. ...

Me, I'm still routing for the coin toss at Yogaville.

It's been real,
Lucinda