Upon being presented with the concept "let's all talk about the Herman Cain sex scandal" my brain appears to be reacting like that evil computer when Captain James T. Kirk asked it, "why"? MAS. Or am I thinking of where Kirk just fucked a guy named Finnegan, or Nomad, or McGoohan? Whatever. This just stiffens my point.
UPDATE. Brendan Gleeson this summer said that he has secured the funding for an At-Swim-Two-Birds film. I believe that I have made my foursquare opposition to this project plain from the outset of the get-go. If we foolishly concede that a novel may be made into a film, then we admit that, say, a painting may be made into a rap video, or a middling This American Life episode made into a haiku, or a Jersey Shore class reality television program converted into a chanson, or a Jonah Goldberg "book" thought of as a book. It is all so very perverse and against nature. Mr. Gleeson ought to contemplate a more wholesome endeavor, such as a Canon Sheehan rock opera.
WEIRD. Apparently when one looks for Pogues songs on You Tube, the advertising algorithm suggests a "You May Enjoy a Becoming a Mormon" video.
The math may in this instance may be a tad katywampus.