Last weekend: Boston. Gorgeous spring weather, crispy-cool, great food. My god, the food. Papa-razzi for wonderful Italian food, Legal Seafood for, duh, seafood, and a Thai place I cannot recall the name of. Our fearless leader introduced me to the best Chardonnay ever, made by Cakebread. Lovely stuff. I may never be able to drink another Chardonnay again.
I spent Saturday afternoon at the Boston MFA, a fine institution with some excellent American art and a large terrible Gilbert Stuart painting of a horse's ass:
And when I say "horse's ass" I mean that literally, as you see. The picture is hung so the horse's ass is eye-level, right next to the Presidential Camel Toe, also eye-level. All of which is damn near life-size, so it's a real freakin' eyeful, I tell ya what. It's most unfortunate and really inexplicable. Fortunately the MFA holds many other much more enjoyable things to counterbalance the Early American Horse's Ass.
Trumpism and race. The new identity politics.
6 hours ago