Michael Crowly has a rollicking good piece on Michael Crichton today in The New Republic (not sure whether it’s behind a sub wall). It starts like this …

She took a sip of red wine, then set the glass down on the bedside table. Unceremoniously, she pulled her top over her head and dropped her skirt. She was wearing nothing beneath.

Still in her high heels, she walked toward him. … She was so passionate she seemed almost angry, and her beauty, the physical perfection of her dark body, intimidated him, but not for long.

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State of Fear by Michael Crichton

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It may be hard to fathom that someone capable of writing the above passage is also capable of discovering the hidden truth about global warming that has eluded the world’s leading scientists.

… and just gets better.

It goes badly wrong, of course, in failing to cite my review of Crichton’s book, but otherwise it perfectly captures the anti-elitism that has, ironically, vaulted both Crichton and Bush into the elite.

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