THE END. At long last, Terri Schiavo has died. I've got a piece in the new Phoenix on how the media-and-political circus surrounding this case may have placed Michael Schiavo's life in danger for many years to come.
Taking the opposite view is the great Nat Hentoff, writing in this week's Village Voice. Obviously I think he's wrong, but this is well worth reading.
TINA GETS IT. It's odd enough that I find myself nodding in agreement with everything Tina Brown says (well, not the bit about Nancy Grace's nostrils) that I've got to share this with you:
The current mania for any story with a religious angle is just the latest index of the post-election angst in executive suites about the terror of being out of touch with suburban mega-churches and other manifestations of the supposed Real America. God forbid, so to speak, that anyone should stand up and suggest that Mozart might be as worthwhile as NASCAR, or that it might be as important for the soul to read Philip Roth as the hokey bromides of "The Purpose Driven Life."
Bring back the cultural elite!