Professor Magnanimous says I should go back to writing about every game, but I don’t have much to say about last night’s. It was a nightmare from the drop, and we decamped from our seats at the Pub at the Creamery at halftime with the Rockets up by 27. We were three-quarters through an episode of Slow Horses when I saw that the Warriors’ garbage-time squad had pulled to within 13 and flipped the broadcast back on. But by then Ime Udoka had put his starters back in and the game was effectively over.

Somewhere in there we saw this clip of the President of the United States demonstrating again, more clearly than ever, that his relationship with reality is not just tenuous but adversarial.

Not only does he fail to understand that the “M,” “S,” “1,” and “3” are labels that someone superimposed on the photograph, not actual tattoos; but when the interviewer compassionately tries to change the subject, he repeatedly changes it back. He is really insistent on this point and dumbfounded that he is being questioned on it, like Nigel Tufnel stating blankly that “these go to 11.”

The map is not the territory, dumbass. (Nervous laughter.) This man is in charge of the world’s largest economy and biggest military! (More nervous laughter.) He has nuclear weapons at his disposal! (Extremely nervous laughter.) How do any of us sleep at night, ever?

Speaking of which, I was reminded this week of the existence of Jeff Bridges’ Sleeping Tapes (previously written about here), a valuable resource I think in these trying times. By way of leaving off on a positive note, here you go: