A long New Yorker article about David Simon, creator of The Wire, who sounds like a bit of a dick, which is probably what it takes to get on these days. Still, his stuff is outstanding.
And an article by Bill Watterson, father of Calvin and Hobbes, about a bio of Charles Schultz and his personal demons. He (Schultz) doesn't much sound like somebody you'd care to be around, either. He likens Schultz to Schroeder, which seems a little unfair on Schroeder.
Why must these people constantly reinforce the old stereotype about the creative artist being an insufferable prick? It's unjust to so many people. What about those of us who are insufferable pricks and not creative at all? Don't we have rights too?
PS: Speaking of reading matter, the reason I'm not keeping my end up here the last couple of days is because I have to finish The Professor for my reading group session with the Brontë Society on Friday. But don't worry, you're not missing much.