Gloomy Sunday

As if cannibalistic roommates eating dismembered body parts and the flesh-eating virus popping up in Georgia aren't bad enough, one worries that Obama could turn out to be a one-term president, which will surely inflame the Democrats and unleash a civil war in America, pitting brother against brother, black against white, and the dead against undead. Worst of all, the Mormons will rule in Heaven. And on a personal note, one of my crowns broke this morning when I bit into a piece of cheese; this will doubtless entail several visits to the dentist.

My growing depression, heightened by two days of steady rain and five more in the forecast, is alleviated briefly by the Sunday New York Times, which offers up more than a few antidotes. For example, Today's travel section contains a detailed review of a Paris hotel where the rooms start at $425 per night. For that, you get a bathroom more like "a small box with a black ceiling and walls" that "felt like a dungeon." But hey--wait a minute--the mini-bar is stocked with Le Whif, an inhaler that dispenses chocolate-flavored air, and "a divine vodka martini made with hazelnut-chocolate spread can be had in the lobby area." That's better. And if you can't get there but you can make it as far as Los Angeles, you can head over to the very hip and trendy Glendale Avenue neighborhood for a pickled beet with marjoram pesto sandwich. I prefer corned beef on rye, but still it's comforting knowing such things are out there for the taking.