Peripatetic

I was terribly saddened to learn on Friday of the death of the great writer and thinker Ellen Willis. Back in the Dark Ages when I was an impressionable preteen and early teen and already beginning to compose entire record reviews in my head in rock-crit-ese, there were precious few women writing about rock. And of the few who were around, none could touch the lucidity and originality of Ellen Willis. It would be hard for me to overstate the impact she had on me back then, and throughout my teens and twenties. When she moved on from rock criticism to general essays (most of the obits referred to her as a feminist writer, but that ghettoizes her unnecessarily, and inaccurately), I continued to read her avidly, and I believe I’m a better writer and thinker for having done so. It had been a long time since I’ve read her regularly, but looking at some of her recent work, it’s easy to see that she never lost her sharp eye or her fluency.

I never met her, but I’ll never forget her. May she rest in peace.

…is nowhere near over; let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The Chimp-in-Chief still has two more years to wreak havoc on the republic and the world, after all. Still, things certainly look a little brighter, a little more hopeful, today. I was convinced that in spite of all the promising polls, the Repugs would manage to pull out all the big important wins anyway. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so happy to be proven wrong.

And yeah, it’s at least a couple of years and many thousands of casualties too late for that evil bastard Rumsfeld to be gone, but at least he’s gone at last. It may not make an enormous difference in the long run, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still a very, very good thing. Good riddance, Rummy. Couldja take Cheney with you?