Combat! blog is winging its way to LaGuardia today, and I have but little time. I have to put all my cosmetics into TSA-compliant bottles, because of that one plot that didn’t work, and don my TSA-compliant underwear because of that other one. And I have to change the water in the goldfish tank, do a couple quick edits for clients, trim my beard, shave my shoulders, exfoliate my teeth, re-foliate my hair—all sorts of stuff, really. I shouldn’t have stayed to talk to you this long, but here we are. While I ease into a swivet, how about you read this fascinating New York Times story about Anna Stubblefield, who fell in love with her profoundly disabled ward. Now she’s awaiting trial. The question of whether a technique called “facilitated communication” allowed him to finally express his true intellect—and his love for Stubblefied—or whether she merely put words in his mouth is one for the courts. Now it’s one for the readers, too, and it’s sticky. Check it out. I’ll just be in 18C, pretending to sleep.

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