Nicely done, Australia

One imagines a government conducted
in the kitchen, in the plain generos-
ity Van Gogh taught us of old, not of
haute cuisine, but of the potato eat-
ers. Presumably, the Prime Minister
of the continent known as Australia
can rally for himself and his wife,
a little help in the kitchen, when
it comes time to govern: command a
vast wedge of some iceberg lettuce,
sprinkled bacon bits, and bottled
slush to dress it all. But I'm not
so sure that the palate is not the
last idealist, and that we convene
in the kitchen because we can con-
fess ourselves there, in a playing
field of trust. Now I forget myself.

This is the first head of state, in
the first telephone calls in the af-
terglow of the gathering of greater
crowds than North America had ever
known, to have received the insults
of the American President. We note
in reassurance, how lightly they fell
upon that certain sense of fair play,
for which a continent might open.

Nicely done, Australia. Y'all come.