




The fourth of May. One hundred and sixteen days after the account died, a page of his own goes up — a single column of posts built in the shape of the thing he lost, with no way for anyone to answer it. The whole apparatus is one room at the end of a dark building. In the seven days that follow, the new press publishes once: a page and a half in praise of a lieutenant governor in Texas.
Readers' Corner
Letters from the readership on Week 308. Pick a pen name — no account needed.
Opening the mailbag…