Sorry for the light posting today--I went up to New York to go on Fareed Zakaria's show, which will air this weekend. Warning that posting will be light-to-nonexistant tomorrow and Monday, as I'm taking a few days off.
It was in the makeup chair for Zakaria's show that I found out that Natasha Richardson had died after a completely bizarre accident on the ski slope. (Yes, I know; I'm out of the loop. All I can say is, they didn't cover it on CSPAN or Bloomberg News, which are just about all the live television I watch these days.) What an awful tragedy. I don't have anything enlightening to say about it--she was lovely, she was talented, and she was far too young. Also, her husband is my favorite actor. Beyond that, all I have is the banal observation that we really ought to live each moment as if it were our last, because death certainly can be sneaky.
As for this, consider another banal observation about the incomprehensibility of deep evil made.
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