What literature at its best can do.

As I ate my lunch today outside at a nearby museum, I watched a group of 25 5-year-olds terrorize a pigeon.  They chased it around screaming, “PIGEON! COME BACK HERE, PIGEON!”  The pigeon was just trying to eat some goddamn crumbs on the ground and kept hopping just out of reach of the tiny hands.  Finally, completely fed up, it flew away, and the kids yelled into the sky, their arms waving above their heads.

Normally, I would shake my head and grin, thinking something like, “Aw, kids.  Can’t wait to have some.”  But since I was reading Ishmael, a Christmas gift from a friend, I stared in mild dismay, thinking, “Is this what the world’s coming to?”