I’m in New York. In all my years of flying over “flyover country,” as the part of our nation that actually elects the president is “graciously ” referred to by us elite coastal types, I have never taken the “red eye” West to East (the reverse many times). I’ve always been afraid I wouldn’t be able to sleep and my brains would turn to brie, as I have heard that organ described by neurosurgeons.

Anyway, it seems to be behaving passably for the moment, at least for now. Soon, no doubt, I will be in a semi-comatose state.

Meanwhile, have a look at this piece in the WSJ, ^[1] which confirms what I’ve been saying on this blog for some time regarding the strange silence of Hollywood on the murder of filmmaker Theo Van Gogh. [You've made six films. Why don't you get credit for speaking out?-ed. You tell me.]