In the extended family of my boyhood there was a cousin known as Bubba. The name carried no connotation of ignorance or redneckery — we were all southern folk. It was a carryover from babytalk, like a lot of nicknames, and it meant “brother.” I’m unable to account for the morphing of Bubba from sobriquet to media cliché meaning “dumb hick,” but this week’s Newsweek cover has got to deserve Waylon Jennings’ Wurlitzer Prize for obnoxious camp (though the cover story isn’t bad).

And speaking of that, the sneering and condescension of Michael Gerson and Charles Krauthammer on today’s Washington Post op-ed page is only exceeded by the Post’s front page teasers reading “Asleep at the Pew” for Gerson and “Ex-Uncle Wright” for Krauthammer. We hear a good deal these days about the encroachment of bloggers, whose endless typing threatens the public mind, more properly nourished by the (presumably slower) typing of wise, disinterested, and brainy types who occupy slots in major media outlets. Golly, gee, I can’t wait for the next brainy and disinterested excursus about immigration from Lou Dobbs! And that Krauthammer really gives me food for thought when he sneers in Latin; mirabile dictu, indeed.

New duck on the block. One of the nice things about living in St. Louis is the city’s multiplicity of neighborhood restaurants and pubs. My beloved and I have been saddened recently by the closing of two favorite places, Pestalozzi Place and Tanner B’s. But we were happy last night to be able to walk across the alley again and find Pestalozzi Place reincarnated as The Shaved Duck, a lively new bistro featuring a tapas-style menu with wonderful entrées (we both had a trout entree that was superb), local cheeses, and craft beers. Here are a couple of enthusiastic reviews: [1], [2]. Owners of the Shaved Duck also operate The Scottish Arms on Sarah, just off Laclede. Last night’s opening was great fun, and, to judge from the crowd, a big success.