I am risen, too. Barely.

Yesterday I observed my traditional Easter fast, subsisting entirely on chocolate and hard boiled eggs. As a consequence, this morning I find myself morose and dyspeptic. Plus, this ain't a good day for reading the news. The guy who made up the phrase “clams got legs” is dead. And in France, this politician whose name sounds like some kind of inoperable malignancy is convincing voters that a get-tough immigration policy is what's needed. Which is pretty bold talk coming from a Magyar halfbreed. You know what they say: Any time you meet a Hungarian, kick him. He'll know why.