At First, Writing For The New Yorker

Weird Doors Open. People Fall Into Things.

The Walking Tour Guides One Through The City's Various Landmarks, Reciting Bits Of Information The Listener Might Find Enlightening. I Learned, For Example, That In The Late 1500s My Little Neighborhood Square Was A Popular Spot For Burning People Alive. Now Lined With A Row Of Small Shops, The Tradition Continues, Though In A Figurative Rather Than Literal Sense.

We're Not Unique In Our Family. We're More Ambitious But We're Not Special. I'm Not Funnier Than Anyone Else In My Family; It's Just That We Wanted More Than Raleigh, North Carolina, Had To Offer. If My Brother Wanted More Than Raleigh Had To Offer, You Would Know His Name. My Sister Lisa Has A Really Unique And Different Voice, But She Doesn't Want That. She's A Fine Writer, But Never Said, "i Want A Book. I Want That Kind Of Attention."

I'm Completely Fascinated By The Health-care Debate Going On In The United States, Especially By Posters Of Obama With A Little Mustache Drawn On His Upper Lip. Is That What Hitler Is Really Known For, His Health-care Plan? To Quote Bill Maher, "i Haven't Seen This Many Pissed-off Old White People Since They Cancelled 'murder She Wrote.'"

Being Locked Up Is One Thing, But To Have No Concept Of Confinement, To Be Ignorant Of Its Terms And Never Understand That Struggle Is Useless - That's What Hell Must Be Like.