With the insurance company going medieval on what it will pay for, I was too cheap to spring for the teevee in the hospital, so I had to settle for a morning paper on Obama’s big day. We get two newspapers delivered at home every morning, but until last week I never thought of them as the Dead Sea Scrolls. Unfortunately, I had all day to dwell on the content, and I was oddly pleased to see the Egotist back to his usual learning-to-use-a-clutch prose. When I think wafer, I conjure Mr. Creosote. That thickness in prosciutto would be good only for the sole. Obviously, paper isn’t what it used to be.