Kevin Williamson has a typically smart and charitable essay about the emergence of what he calls the “Sunday Hijacker.”

The “Sunday Hijacker” is a vagrant who stakes out city churches and accosts worshippers, sometimes begging, sometimes being intentionally disruptive of services until he’s paid to go away. Having lived in–not really “in,” but rather “of”–Washington for almost two decades, I’ve seen a little (but not a lot) of this behavior. I understand what Williamson is talking about.

My favorite church in Washington has a normal retinue of beggars outside. I’ve never been sure how needy they are. Once, I saw one of them getting out of a car, a few blocks away from church. But by the same token, I don’t know that they’re not needy, either. And I’ve seen, more or less, the same contingent on the church steps since I first started attending Mass. They’re never threatening. They’re always kind, even to people who don’t offer them support. They’re also friendly and respectful to the monseigneur. Like most people (I suspect), I wrestle with whether or not it’s prudent to offer help directly to them, or rather direct my support to Church services. The uneasy conclusion I’ve reached is that while giving money to a panhandler who’s just a rational economic actor might have some negative consequences, it also might help someone in need. And since I can’t know which is which, it’s probably best to err on the side of trying help.

But that’s neither here nor there. What I wanted to do was share with you the story of Jean. Jean is a homeless woman who lives, more or less, on the steps of my favorite church. I couldn’t tell you how long she’s been there–she predates me. But her story is part of the church’s legend. A long while ago, Jean showed up. She had had a vision, in which God spoke to her, and told her that it was important that she be at this church. And so she came. And has never left.

Jean spends most of her time during the day inside the church, in prayer. If you pop into church mid-morning, say, for confession, you’re likely to see her contemplating Mary in the Chapel of Our Lady. Or praying to St. Anthony, in another chapel. During Mass, she often assists in the collection of the gifts. In conversation she is friendly, lucid, and serene. Whatever you might be thinking, she does not come across like a crank. She seems, actually, rather holy. The priests at the church trust her implicitly and try to look after her, but she is clearly not on the make. She views herself as having been given a duty to watch vigil over this church, until further notice.

A thousand years ago, Jean would have been regarded quite differently than she is today, and the idea of being given a mission from God–even an obscure, difficult one–would have been more readily accepted.

I always got the sense that other comics held Robin Williams not in the highest esteem. Not that they disliked him personally–just that they believed that his material wasn’t particularly strong and that Williams got by on delivery, which often meant impressions that weren’t all that skillful, but were dazzling to the layman because of their speed. Maybe that impression was wrong.

That said, I’m a layman and I was captivated by Williams’ standup work. For my money, his Live at the Met performance was (at least by my sensibility the last time I watched it) the best standup act I’ve ever seen.

I’m also a sucker for Julliard. And I remember Dead Poets Society and Good Morning Vietnam with the rosy view of adolescence. I suspect neither of those movies would hold up especially well to my adult self, but they spoke to me at the time. And both of those flicks were essentially just vehicles to get Williams’ talent harnessed and onto the screen. He was a force of nature.

I never much cared for Maudlin/Serious Williams–the Williams of Patch Adams and Good Will Hunting, but it seemed (at least to me) that that side of him was authentic. Even his standup sometimes had moments tinged with the maudlin. So while Jakob the Liar wasn’t my thing, I got where it came from.

The truth is, if you only go by his film work, you’d judge Williams’ talents much below their true level, I think. And if you want a treat, it’s worth going back to Live at the Met and his standup days, when he was a big, bright shining star.

RIP.

Update: You can find Live at the Met on Youtube and if you want a glimpse at how fast Williams was, have a look at this clip, beginning around the 0:30 mark. (It’s ’80s comedy, so the language is NSFW.) The sound briefly goes out and Williams starts ad libbing, and even in this unscripted part of the set, he’s blazingly quick-witted:

Update 2: Galley Friend and standup comic M.G. has a little remembrance.

Here’s the first line of a Valleywag story yesterday:

“Is there any way to keep white people from using computers, before this whole planet is ruined?”

Oh. My. There are levels.

The great Mollie Hemingway has a piece up at the Federalist about the weird, impersonal, mass-celebration of President Obama’s birthday. I’m glad she wrote this, because yesterday I got the single creepiest fund-raising email I’ve ever seen. And it was situated around the Joyous and Patriotic Birth Celebration of The One. From “Grant Campbell” of BarackObama.com, the subject header was “Trying not to make this awkward, Jonathan”:

Read that again: “I don’t want to make this awkward, but . . . It looks like you haven’t signed OFA’s birthday card for President Obama yet.”

Yikes. The two unspoken messages here are: (1) We’re watching; and (2) Your reluctance to do your patriotic duty is causing some unpleasantness, which is duly noted.

Absolutely the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen sent out on behalf of a politician.

Ghostbusters was a pleasant enough movie. But even as I child, I remember thinking: This would be so much funnier if they were girls women. Then it could be hilarious and pass the Bechdel Test!

Well, my prayers may finally be answered.

I just hope the filmmakers don’t fall into the transphobic trap of making all the characters cis-gendered women. That’s not what progress is supposed to look like and if they do, we’ll call them out for their bigotry.

In the August issue of Newsmax magazine, Paul Ryan is asked what he’s reading. He gives two replies: Captain Underpants and . . . wait for it . . .

In case you don’t want to blow it up, Ryan says:

This is an insightful work for anyone interested in how demographic trends are changing our economy and our world. With the retirement of the baby boomers almost in full swing, I think policymakers will be grappling with Last’s findings for a long time to come.

I believe in Paul Ryan. Now, more than ever.

In which I give up on what I’m sure is really awesome fantasy nerd culture.

But I still want to see Battle of the Five Armies.

That is, if I ever get around to seeing Desolation of Smaug.

I wrote about Weird Al Yankovic in the newsletter this week and Galley Friend B.W. emailed in response:

Courtesy of a college friend of mine who’s Weird Al’s children’s-book editor: With “Word Crimes,” he’s now had a top-forty hit in each of the last four decades (“Eat It,” 1984, “Smells Like Nirvana,” 1992, and “White & Nerdy,” 2006.). Complete list of people who’ve done that:

1. Madonna

2. Michael Jackson

3. Weird Al

Amazing. Who expected that from the son and heir to Frank Yankovic, the Polka King?

Incidentally, my friend says that Weird Al is the nicest guy in the world.