As it turns out A River Sutra is on a shelf so high it can’t be reached without a ladder, and someone has borrowed my Dave Barry collection. I don’t remember who and they probably don’t remember me either. So I am forced to reread The Teachings of Don B., which allows me to do some shameless and improved name dropping, as the late Donald Barthelme  once shared a cab with me, and we also went to the same party.

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