While that might have been in interesting discussion to have, what actually happened is that he said something quite reasonable, and I went off half-cocked. I suppose it must be the thin air up here on top of the mountains of literary greatness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am taking myself and my elevated tastes out to see a Spiderman movie.

(The phrase the judgment of Paris is a classical allusion. There was a shepherd boy who had to judge between three beautiful goddesses, the Nina, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria, and his choice so outraged the great mother goddess Hera, the wife of the great father god Him-a, that the Nazis took Paris without shelling the city. Paris was drunk at the time, or, as we say, plastered. This is were we get our word for Plaster of Paris, which we still use to this day.)