I don't typically explain the rabbit hole.
But if I make a rule never to explain the rabbit hole, then I've defeated the whole purpose of the rabbit hole, right?
And we can't have that.
Two emails sent my beagle this week into that subterranean darkness:
Enjoyed the anecdote in today's MMM. Your comment and quote toward the end of the Rabbit Hole made me wonder why you're not a particular fan of MacArthur's. (Just curious, that's all. You're certainly not alone in that.)
Ever read MacArthur's autobiography, Reminiscences? Although it's been long out of print, copies are frequently available. I suspect you'd enjoy reading it – for his wonderful use of the language, at least, if not for his take on his role in our nation's history, both as a military leader and an administrator. (I'd like to think that the Bibles and missionaries he was responsible for sending to Japan played a significant role in their post-war success.)
Anyhow, have a great week, Mister Wizard.
Rod (the R in RS) asked why I wasn't a big fan of MacArthur.
I didn't respond to his email, but let me answer for the record: I'm not sure. I think it's because MacArthur seemed a bit too preoccupied with his image. Pretentious. Always aware of the camera. Maybe I'm wrong.
Here's the point. We can admire a characteristic of a person without admiring the entirety of that person. We can respect a talent or an action without approving of the individual. And we can love somebody without liking them.
As you may know, a great writer took his own life this weekend. David Foster Wallace was 46. If you can, please write a MMM about the dangers of living in your right brain.
David Foster Wallace was a literary giant, Gulliver in the land of the Lilliputians. But this Gulliver decided to kill himself. In this, he was like Hunter S. Thompson.
I am simultaneously attracted and repulsed
by Hunter S. Thompson. He is, for me, like MacArthur in his addiction to the spotlight. He is also an example of the right-brain-only problem posed by my friend Rick Copper.
Hunter S. Thompson is an iconic example of the slow-motion fall that can occur when a creative giant stumbles as he walks the tightrope that is the fine line between genius and insanity.