Today is the National Book Festival, and then I don’t have to hear another word about it for a good, long time. I hope.

Much as I’d love to spend the day hanging with the Moron-in-Chief’s lovely librarian wife Laura, I’ve managed to find a way out of it altogether that will keep me far, far from the event. Actually, I’ve been less agitated about the whole thing since I realized it’s Catherine Coulter and not Ann Coulter who’s going to be there. If you wish to see the airheads from Trading Spaces extolling the virtues of reading or NBA stars reading to kids, stroll on down to the National Mall today.

As you may have derived, I love the concept, the execution of the event just always gives me hives.