Call the roller of big cigars, here comes another pope. I have never met a pope though once, when I was 16 I met Melvin Laird in an elevator at a Key Biscayne resort. I was sufficiently political to inform him I didn’t much care for “his wars” which earned me a frozen mackerel’s stare, which I interpreted as a victory. I don’t remember if Melvin had a cigar.
Of cigars and their creation Wallace Stevens had it wrong: cigars were rolled by children in Stevens’ day, even the big ones. How could he not have known such a thing? Because he was the pope of Asylum Street in Hartford. Melvin Laird was the pope of the Potomac Basin. Francis the First threw two progressive priests under the bus in Argentina back in the mid 70’s so he presumably knew a good deal about cigars and who actually made them, didn’t care, and had a conditional approach to liberation theology. The trouble always comes from the costume.
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Planet of the Blind 
The perfect denunciation of an infinitely awful man in an infinitely awful position.
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