What can I say? Great evening!
Packed (literally) to the rafters (they had to open the “balcony” or whatever you’d call the “choir” area of the synagogue.)
Thanks to Winston for getting me that bottle of water, and to everyone who came up and said “hi” to Arnie and me.
We bailed at the end rather than go to the reception — too many people; our introversion kicked in and we needed to go home and decompress from all that human contact, especially me, since I don’t get out much.
Scaramouche (who also included one of his/her trademark song parodies):
A capacity crowd turned out to hear the Great One rail and thunder and crack wise. The crowd demographic definitely favoured the Greatest Generation and Baby Boomers, but I was delighted to see that my brilliant, adorable, university-bound nephew was there. Like most of his peers, he leans leftward, but when, post-talk, I asked what he thought about Steyn, he replied, “He was good.” Which, since you don’t know my nephew, may sound tepid verging on the indifferent, but which, knowing him as I do, is actually high praise indeed; he’s even planning to read After America, so there’s hope yet for the up-and-coming generation.
Closet Conservative (a few seats over):
I am not Mark Steyn’s bodyguard, but I got to play one in a Reform synagogue for five minutes.
Mark– if you ever need a five foot five Jewish mother body guard again, have your people call my people.
(This bodyguard got a nice bear hug from Teh Steyn, too. I may never wash my outfit again…)
