The first thing I noticed about the book when it arrived — besides its sheer size — is that it boasts “[a]n introductory note by Henry. A. Kissinger.”
Now, depending on when you came of age, Dr. Kissinger is either the punchline to a thousand Laugh In jokes or a shameless war-criminal-in-waiting.
(As I’m a fogey of the former cohort, the mere sight of Kissinger’s surname — although an ever rarer occurrence — never fails to conjure up the cloying aroma of Love’s Baby Soft, with heart notes of freshly silk-screened “DISCO SUCKS” t-shirts.)
Inside the book, Black expresses his thanks to Tina Brown, Anna Wintour, Julie Nixon Eisenhower, Paul Wolfowitz, Donald Trump, Rush Limbaugh — a Bilderbergian assortment of friends.
Which brings me back to Sarah Thomson.
