What's wronged in Kansas. A while ago, upon my migration to the Midwest, Jonathan Gewirtz, the original Chicago Boy, was remarking his appreciation of laconic Midwestern humor to me. Did I enjoy it? Indeed I did and indeed I do. (Its subtle delights available even from the guy who does the weather extension service broadcasts, as the Fleckster discerned and passed on.) Last year, well before the eastward move Midwest, I had speculated that a certain wayfarer of the public intellectual persuasion was perhaps a tad slow on the uptake when it came to that sort of thing. Not that he should have been otherwise; we're all parochial, and the prairie wit is not for all sensibilities. But due to my laxity in closing comments, I discover by a belated comment to that post that Mr. Garton Ash apparently sinned beyond a forgivable thick-headedness. See the last comment from the "backwoods hillbilly" re peculiar strangers who wander onto your property babbling absurd apropos-of-nothing questions. Enjoy.

Posted by Moira Breen at June 29, 2004 08:37 AM