Last night I succumbed to desire at the Harvard Book Store and purchased Nobody's Perfect, a collection of reviews and writings by Anthony Lane, the almost unbearably witty New Yorker writer. The man never fails to make me laugh aloud -- reading him is like riding in a convertible driven by a rakish movie star, with a scarf in your hair and a box of perfect chocolates in your lap; it's dizzying. I've only read the introduction, but check out this zinger on listening to fellow critics complain about the hotel Jacuzzis at an all-expenses-paid movie biz junket: "The thought that one could trim one's criticism in direct proportion to the fizziness of the water in which one had recently dipped one's ass had not occurred to me." Bing! And who knew, there's a bit about LEGOs in there too! :D

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