In correspondence the other day, I confessed to someone that due to the various professional roles I've played with great enthusiasm and little fear over the years—communication commentator, gonzo journalist, conference convener, association gladhander—I never know whether a person I'm introducing myself to on email:
- Loathes me.
- Loves me.
- Fears me.
- Doesn't know me from Adam.
All those are legitimate views of me, I'm sure. But the range makes it hard to figure out how to begin an email.
(Which reminds me of E.B. White, who said, "I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.")
[Which sounds like a nice problem to have in the morning. I wake up feeling like the boxer Archie Moore, who said, "I ride my fear like a fast horse."]
I try not to write about Trump. This is what happens.