There are moments in life when you receive an unmistakable sign that the game is over. That it’s time to fold your tent, to pull up stakes, to pack it in, to furl the flag, to trim the sails, to let go of a lost cause. At best, to wait for next year. In the extreme, to write it off permanently. And if one chooses to breast the tide, to do so stoically.

The memoirs of public men are exercises in self-promotion and self-justification. They are designed to etch a portrait of the (wo)man that will live across time. It's the legacy thing. These days, that legacy pertains also to the "here and now" since memoirs are not necessarily the conclusion of a career but rather the curtain-raising on its next act.

Accountability is on the endangered species list. No - not the word. Indeed, “accountability” reverberates around the electronic ether almost as frequently as “thwarking.” It is the reality of persons, especially public persons, taking responsibility for acts of malfeasance in ways that entail exemplary punishment and personal costs.

Hillary Clinton has been enthroned as the presumptive next President of the United States - by the celebrity mongers, by the trendy Hollywood set, by the media, by the pundits, by the big donors, by Congressional Democratic leaders like Nancy Pelosi and Charles Schumer and by the Las Vegas odds-makers. The crystallization of a consensus three years before the event is as intriguing as the questions about what sort of president she would make. 

The near meltdown of the United States government evoked worldwide dismay and confusion. Both reactions were especially acute among America’s well-wishers. For not only would they have suffered the consequences of a global economic crisis but they also feel dependent on the probity of American leadership. That dependence may stem in part from their own failures to assume their reasonable share of responsibility for sustaining an orderly international system - a state of affairs remarkably unaffected by the costly flaws in Washington’s custodianship over the past several years. It is nonetheless real.

A funny thing happened in the last few years when no one was paying attention. J.R. Ewing, the legendary Texas oilman, and his wife Sue Ellen sold Southfork, their ranch near Dallas, and moved to a new home in Pennsylvania (Northfork?). JR immediately began buying subsurface mineral rights for acres of land above the Marcellus and Utica shale formations in the Appalachian Basin. Cliff Barnes, J.R.'s nemesis, sold all his Texas properties and moved to North Dakota, where he started leasing mineral rights to acreage above the Bakken shale play. 

The Intouchables tells the story of a young Senegalese immigrant named Driss, who has been hired to be the caretaker of Philippe, a rich tetraplegic. The feel-good comedy has been a smashing success in France and across the world, grossing over $350m worldwide. While reviews of the film both in France and abroad have been mostly positive, there is a contingent of American critics that thinks that The Intouchables highlights racial stereotypes.