Wouldn’t you know it. Chris once again promised to come, then failed to reply to my subsequent entreaties.
If I hadn’t spent the past ten days ignoring the world and cleaning my apartment until my fingers bled,1 I’d be cross with his flakiness. But I’m just in no position to be judging someone else for being flakey right now, am I? I hope Chris is happily cleaning his garage or organizing his CD collection or whatever it is that soothes his soul. If you ever read this, Chris, all is forgiven.
However, we’re again short a guest for today’s symposium. I tried to find a pinch-hitter, but it was very short notice, and I failed.
Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to pop on at 4:30 pm my time—the Zoom link’s below the paywall, as always—for a check-in with any subscriber who:
would like editorial advice on a writing project;
would like speaking advice for an upcoming speech or presentation;
wants to give me suggestions about how to make the Cosmopolitan Globalist more interesting or fun or rewarding;
wants to talk about global affairs;
wants to meet other subscribers
wants to tell other readers about his or her Substack (or something else you’d like to plug);
wants to see how clean my apartment is;
just wants to say hello.
If no one shows up, no big deal; if everyone shows up, we’ll have a party.
See you at 4:30 Paris time.
(Whoa! Suddenly, loud thunder outside, followed by the heavens opening up. I wasn’t expecting that. If it’s still happening in an hour, I’ll show you.)
