He expected her to wait for him, but she's a modern woman and she can get home on her own. It's telling that she doesn't expect him to come back for her, or does she just not want to be there when he does?
This declining year has been the centennial of Marshall McLuhan's birth -- the man who was, if not the father or godfather, then at least our leading prophet of media-driven political and social change.
We are using up our nation's reserve of precious steroid metaphors is my point. While we wait for a timelier catchphrase to bubble up from the streets, I'd recommend we rush into use, at least temporarily, the entertaining '60s trope, "on acid."
Dick Cavett does his homework. He's a witty conversationalist. His writing is as sharp, witty and engaging as his talk show hosting was. All this begs the question: Why is this man not currently hosting a TV show?
This book is a partial visual diary of my life since becoming a photographer in the middle 60's. (The 90's is the only decade not represented. Principally, during that era, I concentrated on working with nudes and anatomy).
Dig deeper, and the question of who Michael Savage is becomes more complicated. "Savage" isn't his real name; it seems to speak to his heightened sense of masculinity, aggression, and antipathy toward minorities.