Je ne regrette rien

Or so sang the great Piaf. I utter the phrase in a less global way; after reading the news of the day, despite accusations of all sorts of nefariousness from readers who have clearly taken deep offense, I apologize for nothing. Behold this

I have used no one's actual name, depicted no offenses so contemptible, and most important, I write with far more grace and empathy than Mr. Crichton. If my novels were ever to be filmed, their success would be in the hands of the actors, not the people who do the animatronic special effects. (Even the redoubtable Fang would require no more technology than the little trouper who performed so many decades ago in the role of Toto.)