At least I'm not dressed like Napoleon

Thank you, NYT, for tossing this WWPD-bait in my direction. Because my current environs don't lend themselves to roaming around Broadway and 85th Street with a dozen overloaded Zabars bags, wearing Naot sandals and mismatched socks, railing about the government, if I wish to be that kind of crazy*, my best bet is becoming one of those people who send letters to newspapers. The fact that this particular item was accompanied by an explicit "Invitation to a Dialogue" from the paper made this irresistible. When they don't print what I've sent in (although I was concise, so they might), expect the concise response, as well as my full, no, copious thoughts on the subject, here.

*Eccentricity enhanced, I might add, by the fact that my husband's away for a couple weeks, leaving me (for the most part) in in-person communication only with a poodle. My work, which can but probably shouldn't be completed from home, involves wrapping up a dissertation chapter on Napoleon. If that's not a recipe for furious letter-writing to newspapers, I don't know what is.