From the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library here in Sultry, Savannah.

This is obscure season four in American tragedy.

I am your host, your friend, your ear lover, and literary mansplainer in chief, Michael, Ian Black, supine,

as always on the Jack Jack Memorial Reading Throne.

The exterminator's just been by.

Ever since we moved into this damn house, we have to have the exterminator come by every now and again because

of the palmetto bugs, which I've described in some detail over many episodes. Roaches,

they're just roaches. They call them palmetto bugs because, you know, Southern gentility

and what not. And while we do not have a terrible problem with these creatures,

we have some problem with them and there's just can't quite get rid of them here in Savannah.

You know, it's just the climate. It's just where we are. It's just the kind of place they like to

hang out and, you know, you do your best,

right? That's all anybody can do in this. God damn life is your best. I spent the morning and

into the early afternoon writing for the Daily Beast and for my own substack and as well as my own,

of course, edification. Now that that is complete, I have

changed locales from my office, such as it is, to the Jill Schwartz Memorial Library. And that's

where we are. I was in Los Angeles, as you know, if you listened to the last episode, had a fine time.

Just a fine time in Los Angeles.

Saw my daughter, saw many friends, had Taco Bell.

And it's a shame, you know, when you're in L.A. and you end up going to Taco Bell

because there's so many good street tacos in L.A.

So many good takarias, you know, that you can go to.

...