My Moment of Fame on the Continent.

Cécile Grégoriadès interviewed me last week in my "adopted hometown" of Santa Monica, California, about the upcoming national election—and listened just as carefully to my stories of going to high school in Dogtown as she did to my views on John McCain.

She's a sweet, wonderful woman. Very bright. We were in her neighborhood, down by Main Street. I knew I was being silly, but I insisted on walking her back to her apartment building. Never mind that she towers over me: it's a mixed area, and I know how to handle the South side of Santa Monica. Hell—I used to live in Venice, until the drug dealers chased me out. Some part of me felt that it was no area for people who are truly nice. And never mind that houses there start at a bit over a million dollars; the bums are still always out in force.

Hey! Nobody told me that an interview with Le Monde would be published in . . . French. No fair!

Seriously: If only my French weren't so nonexistent/sucky.* But the interviews actually play in both languages on Le Monde's site—English first, translation second; the quality is remarkably good, and having the audio in the background while one reads the interviews is a good multi-media approach, shy of having to videotape every interview one conducts. Nice blend of online "print" and podcasting. And Cécile has a great microphone.

A special shout-out to Cécile: remarkably sensitive in her questions, she listened very well to what could have been quite a "hard right" point of view on American national security issues. (I am less right-wing on other topics, of course.)

* I did get, however, find out at CPAC that I was still able to converse in pidgin German with a couple of European journalists. At least, I rather think I did; I was on my second dirty martini at the time.

UPDATE: Place this quote:

"Le Monde? It's a great price, for a small vice."

UPDATE 2: David Linden writes in from New York City:

Mon Dieu!

The interview is great. The photo, however, makes it look like some Islamo-Fascist just stuck a baguette up your ass.

His ex-girlfriend, aka the Manhattan Moosette, assures me that the translation seems fairly accurate.