James Wolcott vs. Christopher Hitchens

I have always loved Christopher Hitchens-no, I mean his writing-no, I mean him because really how can you separate the man from his words?  I usually followed his columns in Vanity Fair and always appreciated his cut-to-the-chase and through the bullshit-media savvy, all encased in clever rhetoric. It doesn't even matter that I can't remember with any great detail many of his topics unless pressed hard and without the use of my favorites key; it's not so much what he says (although I think we can all agree he says a lot and much of it well worth it) but rather  the way in which it's said, for God's sake.  It's what it does to me on the other end of it.  All you who recognize this potential for bliss, however fleeting, at the pleasure of certain texts understand what I mean. It's mostly (usually) pretty incredible. I have always been a writing groupie and Hitchens is one of my favorite rock stars. I was beside myself the year he gave a lecture at FAU-who the hell was responsible for that?  I wasn't to be disappointed.  That voice-it only made all the other stuff that was there already sound so much better-that much more sexy. I say this with the full self-realization  and awareness at how deeply the colonialist scars reside in we olde colonists. What stands out, however, was his reaction during his lecture to the continual interruption by a woman seated in the front row who began making noises early on  with her hand half-raised as though she wanted to ask  a question and became shy in the middle of it.  At first he ignored her as we all expected him to do. Jesus, this was Hitchens speaking, not jsut another dry academic lecture.  Later, as it became clear that she wasn't going to go away he was forced no doubt to acknowledge her in some way. With her shapeless loose clothing and gray-streaked dark hair, she could have just as easily been someone homeless walking in from the street, or just another exhausted  sociology professor not buying his conservative rhetoric, no matter how pretty-sounding.  I don't think he knew either so perhaps to save himself from potential embarrassment he addressed her when finally after several thwarted attempts she asked him a question that we couldn't hear of course.  But by this time we had become slightly distracted by the sight of her half-seated, appearing incoherent, dishevelved, wondering what the hell was going on. To his credit he interrupted his lecture, and with no visible trace of sarcasm, asked, "Madam, do you have a question for me?"  There was a quick exchange between the two of them which we all watched in quiet fascination until a few minutes later when he resumed his lecture. His attention seemed to pacify her and she was quiet for the rest of the lecture.  But this entry wasn't supposed to be about Hitch but rather about his colleague James Wolcott who I am starting to love, too.  I can't really get enough of his blog and I rarely read blogs.  Anyway, that's it.  Thanks, James.  Love your stuff.