The American Spectator

At first, I thought that I must have been bitten by a brown recluse spider. A rash broke out in different spots on my left arm and I felt a dull and sometimes stabbing pain in the arm and shoulder. I could not sleep more than three or four hours a night. Upon going to a doctor, I learned that I had shingles and that I would probably have to put up with it for a another two to four weeks, and possibly longer. The best he could do would be give me some pain pills, which should allow me to sleep better.

It has been three weeks since I spoke to the doctor, and I’m still suffering from ill effects of this disease. But it has brought me at least one good laugh, thanks to an old friend and a fellow contributor to TAS.

Knowing of my condition and spotting an article that I had written entitled “Arrogance in the Executive — What the oil spill has revealed about the Obama presidency,” which is carried in the current issue of the Weekly Standard, my waggish friend Michael Johnson sent me this email from his domicile in Bordeaux, France:

Condolences on the shingles, which I see on the web is a form of herpes. Hope you don’t have scabs hanging off you “down there.” Isn’t there some way to turn this into a column? I can see your lead now: “Watching Obama stumble along the Gulf Coast is akin to suffering from shingles. Painful and irritating. I know. I have been suffering from both lately. I prefer shingles.”