Ross Douthat reports that there will one day be a whole bunch more Phoebes. Not good, not good at all--now, when I Google myself (or when y'all Google me, my fair readers) you only get entries about this particular Phoebe Maltz. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm almost certain that I'm the only one. This may change.
Interestingly enough, Douthat comes out against Brideshead Revisited in his list of five overrated things. I'm actually "Phoebe" because of the miniseries version of Brideshead: Supposedly my mother saw this name in the credits, and decided that she wanted a Phoebe, and I'm guessing if my father had had any serious objections to this, then I'd probably be called something else.
So yeah, not sure how this all connects, other than that The American Scene has, strangely, caused me to reflect on my first name much more than I'm generally inclined to. It made for a pleasant break from BA-writing (as did a run out to the BartMart for Soy Crisps and, since I have flex dollars to burn, bottled water), but now, I think Bernard Lazare and Theodor Herzl are waiting. Preferably waiting in a Viennese cafe, with a big piece of apple strudel...
No comments:
Post a Comment