




He turns seventy-six at a table set for one, watching a South Carolina primary end the career of a congressman who voted to impeach him — and spends the rest of the week demanding the stage: four words in capitals at the whole apparatus of television, a war criminal's title for the huntress on the committee, the pulpit line about God carried up to a midnight hotel window. The week closes down a dark colonnade with the belief restated — stronger with time, he insists — and its eternal two-word chaser: witch hunt.
Readers' Corner
Letters from the readership on Week 366. Pick a pen name — no account needed.
Opening the mailbag…