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I think this’ll be a slow week for the Blogspotting team. One of us is getting married, and the other is wondering what to wear. Heather’s instructions say something about dressing “fabulous.” I was thinking: Robert Redford in The Great Gatsby? (That would mean my wife would have to dress like Mia Farrow. Too much work.) Al Pacino’s shiny silk suit in Godfather II? (Too pricey) Bill Belichick’s hooded sweatshirt? (Too hot).
Thinking of avoiding clothes altogether, I recalled this this Bob Dylan lyric:
I’m gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange
So I look like a walking mountain range
And I’m gonna ride into Omaha on a horse
Out to the country club and the golf course.
Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds.
Last night we saw the Broadway production Frost-Nixon. Frank Langella was terrific as Nixon. His slouch, his eagerness to be liked, his didactic manner as he evaded questions. I wonder if sometime down the road I’ll so thoroughly enjoy revisiting the current president.