And, no, it’s not Don D., or Roth. A German-Romanian Cruella De Vil lookalike took home the sort-of coveted literary prize, over some other writers who may possibly have deserved it more, despite not living and working under the thumb of a Romanian despot. But, hey, we can’t all be so lucky. Not to take anything away from Herta (sorry about the Cruella thing), but, uh, really? This is worse than that time in 1997 that Dario Fo won, an egregious event that I just read about last week and have been outraged by ever since. Politics? Art? Europeans intimidated by our raw American power and awesomeness? I feel like I need to write a strongly worded letter to someone, but the thing is is that baseball game is on in three hours, so I have to read some pregame analysis and be glad my national sport isn’t soccer, a game for cowards.
Boo, I say.