I'm getting an early start on this first summer weekend, practicing what the French call l'extase langoureuse, which roughly translates as the ecstasy of languishing.
But, before the languor, two quick things:
Today marks the inexplicable farewell of The Washington Post's best political blogger. For five and a half years, Dan Froomkin has tirelessly spoken truth to power - doggedly tracking the incompetent perfidies of the Bush administration, and, lately, holding Barack Obama accountable whenever his actions have failed to jibe with his promises. He deservedly amassed a loyal following, and it remains a mystery why The Post decided to drop him; the official line - that his blog had "run its course" - is self-evidently substance-free.
Froomkin posted his final words this morning; his entire ouevre is worth a look. I'm assuming he'll land somewhere. I'll just note, for now, that his erasure is yet further evidence that the term "liberal media" is a canard. I need only point out that The Post - supposedly a prime "liberal" outpost - has dropped Froomkin while retaining the op-ed services of people like Charles Krauthammer and William Kristol...as well as the editorial page editor who for years indulged the Bush neoconservatives even as Froomkin charted their delusions.
And speaking of loss:
Whenever celebrities die in threes - as often seems to be the case - I am always fascinated by the hierarchy of mourning...in other words, which of the deceased winds up as number three.