Caitlin Flanagan exemplifies the phenomenon of the moderately talented writer without anything to say. . .She has few real ideas and is confused about the ones she does have. . .so, with no idea what to say or write, she just writes or says something really stupid. . .

Every time I read one of her New Yorker articles I'm just astounded that they gave her that much space to describe how she blew obscene amounts of money on a Hawaiian vacation with her family. . .or on bribing her children's private school teachers with expensive gifts. . .

Her stuff is, indeed, compulsively readable, but it always makes me feel like I need to take a shower after reading it. Nothing else in the New Yorker ever makes me feel that way. . .

Is that why they publish her? Because she's the closest they can get to unseemly voyeurism and still call themselves the New Yorker?

What is their excuse?

Please: fight about this working mom vs. non-working mom nonsense all you want (and it is nonsense--most of the moms I know, employed outside the home or not, are too busy to engage in this sillyness)but whatever you do--DO NOT buy this book. She'll just use the money for another extravagant vacation--or even worse--subject New Yorker readers to descriptions of her home renovations.

Ick. Gotta go take a shower.

Hello,

King Kaufman is dead on when he says that the world cup will lead to no sudden boom in soccer interest in the US, but will contribute to steady growth in the popularity of the sport.

No single event will suddently transform the legions of mainstream American sports fans into rapid soccer fans, but as long-time soccer fan it's clear to me that the number of soccer fans has been growing steadily.

The main obstacle to commercial success of soccer in the US is not the occassional soccer bashing of some mainstream sports writers, but the fragmentaton of soccer fans into those who will follow the game in the US and those who will only watch matches from Europe or Mexico. Soccer snobs who will only follow big European teams such as Manchester United or Real Madrid miss the point that a lot of fans in Europe root for teams without the money to chase big international stars. That sounds a lot like the typical MLS team.

I first learned that this phenomenon had a name in a college poetry class of all places, because it is also a poetic technique. What that prof told us is that many researchers think synesthetic abilities are fairly common in young children, but diminish over time.

I still have mine, although the colors have somewhat faded over the years. (I'm 45.) The letters of the alphabet went monchromatic for me some time ago but the days of the week have stayed somewhat colorful. Wednesday is red, Thursday is yellow, Saturday is white, and, of course, Monday is black (or is it just a very dark purple?)

I don't feel like a freak, though, because when I've brought this up in conversation a few times I've found I'm not alone and there are other people who know exactly what I'm talking about. . .

Great review, Heather. I think this was one of the better Oscarcasts I've seen and I've been watching them for 35-plus years.

But it seems that you--and all the other letter writers--missed the best thing about last night's show: no rude, annoying, cruel musical cues drowning out the acceptance speeches and forcing winners off the stage. Look ma, they let the winners have their moments, and the thing still ended five minutes early!

I also loved how the winners were up on stage in just three or four steps. . .no long walk to the podium with all the attendant risk of falling.

Less chance that winners will trip and fall and fewer shots of loser's faces? Less chance that winners will be rudely cut off by the orchestra? Could we have witnessed a sadism-free awards show?

It's not a big deal in the scheme of things, but I'll take my evidence of progress whereever I can get it.