I.Q. Fright

I am reading a book, was just reading it at the kitchen table as a matter of fact, and now prop my elbow on it as I type, since I intend on taking it with me to bed and don't want it to wander off.  What I relish about this book is the same thing that disquiets me: its hyper intelligence.  Its author expresses a vast amount of opinion in such an engagingly funny and insightful way that I find myself laughing out loud, and then cringing, wondering if that poor writing style he so adroitly mocks, might just be my own.

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