“Come on, David!”
Reading David Brooks one often feels so embarrassed for poor Mr. Brooks that one doesn't know where to look. This discomfort arises when the well-educated, intelligent, and by all accounts genial Mr. Brooks once again writes something inane, and instead of consigning it to the round file publishes it for all the world to see in the American newspaper of record. This nauseating quality of Brooks's writing reached new heights, however, with his paean to his old boss, William F. Buckley.
Fortunately an antidote is available at Jonathan Mayhew's excellent ¡Bemsha Swing!
—David
