Okay, someone was a little smartasinine requesting this one, for reasons that most of you will never know, given that this is not one of those soundbiting autobiographic shows and hence most of you don’t know that my real name is, in fact, Jemima, and I, too, paid my way through school with whiskey. Curious, that.
Even though it was a bit of an elbow-ribbing, request-speaking, this one picked up my mood considerably. I couldn’t read it without cracking once or thrice — if you can do better while listening, let me know and the next request is yours. If you can’t, don’t let me know, just listen to this as proof that Fitzgerald will always be funnier than you, crackups and all.
I’m surprised you chose a story so insensitive to the people of Appalachia. Like Hemingway, Fitzgerald frequently accepted popular stereotypes rather than actually getting to know people of a section of the country. I assume the same is true of their treatment of large sections of Europe. Humor dependent on such unfair stereotypes is painfully unfunny.