A big welcome to offspring of fat, balding blowhards
More evidence of the Bush Library/Welcome Karl Rove to campus connection. Herr Karl was sighted last week being shown around the uni with his son, a prospective student. If there were a red carpet long enough to extend from the entrance all the way back to the quad, it would have been rolled out in their honor. As it was, the groveling toady factor was off the charts. Or so I'm told.
Dr. Phil's kid, by the way, is now in his first semester as a frosh. He lives in a dorm on-campus in a room that I hear is fitted out pretty sweetly, complete with flat-screen TV. Dr. P's oldest boy is a gradjeate of the law school, soon to be known as the alma mater of the newest member of the Supremes, Harriet "My perm is worse than Condoleezza's" Miers.
Our next step in the study of writing for newspapers and magazines--an intro to the art of the interview--will go up here Tuesday afternoon. I've reviewed four plays in three days and my fingers are so gnarled from carpal tunnel that I'm considering typing with my hairy toes.