I’d like to dedicate a few lines of exuberant prose to a regular visitor to this blog—a young man, if I’m not mistaken, who, day after day, at all hours of the day, finds himself at The New Enthusiast after having first furtively googled “Selma Hayek Young” in search of some visual stimulation. Welcome, young man, to The New Enthusiast! What you hear is fanfare for the leisured man: you! Let cool the sweat of your palms, clear your considerable cache, find a new home for your jollies! Websurf awhile! While you will not find the curves and soft bulges of young Hayek, you will swoon like a sated babe against the smooth and soft breasts of my prose. Did I say my prose has breasts? I meant to say my prose is breasts.