A few years ago I saw Alan Alda on stage in David Mamet’s Glengarry, Glen Ross. Somehow I had managed to miss seeing either the play or the film before that. Alda was great (I really want to see Jack Lemmon on the film version), and the plot was fascinating, in a sort of sick way, but I couldn’t figure out why Mamet wanted me to be sympathetic to the plight of a bunch of sociopathic con artists.
Now I understand. Mamet is angry about being forced to trim the hedge around his mansion, and can’t imagine why anyone might be angry about being ruled by George W. Bush and his fellow torturers.
I hope Mamet and Andrew Ferguson and Newt Gingrich will be happy together, far away from the rest of us.
Footnote to editors “Poor young radical becomes rich old conservative” is strictly dog-bites-man.