A few weeks ago, I tweeted, “If ever I’m sentenced to death, I want my last meal to be a grilled-cheese sandwich and a vanilla custard shake from Northpoint in M’waukee.”

A different tweeter made a good point: If ever I’m sentenced to death, it’ll likely be by a regime that does not believe in last meals.

In any event, I have a new last meal: from John Elway’s restaurant in the Denver airport. Steak chili, salad, and a gourmet Ding Dong. Done.

‐At the rental-car agency, I’m waited on by a young man with a slight — very slight — accent. After a while, I say to him, “May I guess where you’re from?” He says, “Sure,” with an air that suggests I’ll never get it.

I say, “The Baltics?” Quite surprised, he says, “Yes.” I say, “Okay. Will you give me your last name again?” He does, whereupon I say, “Lithuania?” Which is correct.

Since I’m such an arrogant bastard, I’ll tell you this: Even I am impressed. I’ve never even been to Lithuania.

But I’ve talked to a fair number of highly educated Balts in my time …

I say to this young man, “True or false: Estonia has the most beautiful girls in the world.” He says, “No, Lithuania does.” Ah, national pride.

‐The first time I visited Denver, it was 2008. I came for the Democratic National Convention. Was I a delegate? Um, no: I was part of National Review’s coverage team.

At the airport, I looked over at a mountain range. I thought, “Not such a big deal. I’ve been in Austria and Switzerland a lot lately. I know mountains. This is what people make such a fuss about?”

Now I understand what all the fuss is about. With my friend and colleague Jason Wise, I’m driving from Denver to Silverthorne, then up to Steamboat Springs.

Wow. No wonder people fall in love with the West, and in particular Colorado.

‐Okay, a new last meal: from Good Times, a fast-food chain. Tuscan chicken sandwich, diet Pepsi, and Oregon blackberry shake. Nirvana.

Though “Good Times,” to me, will always recall the Evans family (of sitcom lore). In particular Thelma, who was, for me, an early object of … admiration.

‐Steamboat Springs is a lovely town that is also a ski resort. Most important for me — and for the world? — it is the home of the Steamboat Institute, a conservative organization. It was founded by Jennifer Schubert-Akin and her husband, Rick Akin. It is, in part, a conservative alternative to the Aspen Institute. It is also a point of light, as Bush 41 used to say.

Speaking of points of light, two NR writers are fellows of the institute: Jillian Melchior and Tom Rogan.

I’m here to give a talk on a new book, Children of Monsters: An Inquiry into the Sons and Daughters of Dictators. I greatly admire what Jennifer and Rick have built. May there be more people like them, and more institutes like the Steamboat.

‐After our event, we go to McKnight’s Irish Pub. Entering, I say to my friend Sandra, “It looks duly western.” She says, “It’s an Irish pub!”

I’ve been to a few Irish pubs — in Ireland, Northern Ireland, Boston, and New York — and this place seems western to me. All the more so when I order the green-chili mac and cheese …

‐On to Boulder. For some years, I’ve been told that it’s a western equivalent of my hometown, Ann Arbor, Mich. I agree. And Boulder, of course, has the advantage of great natural beauty (though Ann Arbor is not so oogly).

‐I say to an NR reader, who lives here, “Is Boulder as commie as its reputation? Or does its reputation come from right-wing hype?” “Oh, no,” he says. “It’s even worse than its reputation.”

‐On the CU campus, there is a Dalton Trumbo Fountain Court. I kid you not. I don’t see anything named after Lillian Hellman. Or Stalin, for that matter. Has the university fallen down on the job?

There is a plaque about Trumbo, which says, “CU Student, Distinguished Film Writer, Lifelong Advocate of the First Amendment.”

Lifelong advocate of the First Amendment! Chillen, Dalton Trumbo wanted you to live under the same system that killed, persecuted, and immiserated millions of Russians and others trapped in the Soviet Union, as well as Chinese, Poles, and so on.

At our universities, they don’t name things after Nazis. After Communists? Of course. There is an Alger Hiss Chair at Bard. Really.

‐I’m confused about something (not about the professoriate’s fondness for Communism): This university, in Boulder, is the University of Colorado. But they don’t call it UC. They call it CU.

A puzzle.

‐There is a conservative professor here, Brian Domitrovic, and he is indeed the Visiting Scholar in Conservative Thought and Policy. I’m glad there is such a person. But it would be better to have a sprinkling of conservatives throughout the university, along with sprinklings of liberals, Marxists, and what have you.

But better a token than no one. And Professor Domitrovic is more than up to his job: He’s a brainy, well-rounded, affable Columbian and Harvardian. His students are lucky. I’d like to enroll in his classes today.

Let me add this (though it should be unnecessary): Not only should there be a decent contingent of conservative professors — conservative thought and policy should be part of thought and policy at large. You know?

‐The audience at our book event includes a father and son. Afterward, the father shows me a letter he received from Bill Buckley in 1979. Bill was responding to him. The subject was dictatorships: those allied with the Soviet Union and those allied with the West. A fascinating letter.

And its recipient went on to write a thesis, if I’ve heard correctly, on just that subject.

He also tells me about the mysterious death of Glenn Miller. Again, fascinating.

‐The next morning, on the CU campus, I see a student in uniform. Are you kidding me? I mean, a military uniform. Must be ROTC. That’s more surprising than the court named after Trumbo, trust me. I am filled with admiration for this young man, and all like him.

‐A couple of tables (outside) have boxes of donuts on them. The donuts are a lure. Those giving them away want you to participate in a study, it seems. Their sign says, “Free Donuts! Tell Us How You De-Stress.”

Well, one way you can de-stress is by eating donuts …

‐The campus is beautiful, all spruced up, practically pristine. I contrast it with my campus, years ago. I remember a lot of dirtiness and litter. Constant fliers and posters and pamphlets and bulletins — the debris of the university Left.

Of course, we’re now in the electronic age. Maybe this has resulted in prettier campuses?

‐On the pavement, someone has written, “This town luvs the smell of its own farts.” Is that not true of every college town, or latte town (if there’s a difference)?

‐One student is saying to another, “So, I got her, like, a geode, and, like, a lot of other, like, little things? So, it’s like, whatever …”

American speech is choked with “like.” I think this set in about the time Reagan left office. I coined the term “like lock.” Someone would say, “It was like, like, like …,” and I’d say, “You’re in a like lock!” I’ve been in a few like locks myself.

“Like” chokes our speech the way a weed chokes a garden. But let me tell you something: Some of the brightest people I know are infected with “like.” I’m thinking of one right now. You’ll never meet anyone brainier. A funny phenomenon, this “like” business.

‐Here on the CU campus, I pass the Cristol Chemistry Building. I’m thinking, “Shouldn’t that be geology? Mineralogy?”

‐The sight of the football stadium reminds me of something: One of our neighbors, back in Ann Arbor, came out here to coach. He had been an assistant football coach under Bo Schembechler at the University of Michigan. Came out here to be head coach.

That was Bill McCartney, who later founded Promise Keepers, the Christian group.

‐What to my wondering eyes should appear, but the Mac Shack! Ah, made for me — macaroni and cheese. Obviously, a mecca. But no! The place has to do with Apple computers.

Can’t win ’em all. Thank you for joining me!