In today’s Impromptus, I write a little about Luigi Nono, the late Italian composer. (He was honored at the Salzburg Festival this year.) And I say that I’ve always wanted to find a way to use, “Nono, Nanette” — but it never works out. Also in this column, I write about Desmond Tutu, who has been uttering offensive nonsense in the Middle East (and on the Middle East).

A reader writes, “Tutu? So so.” At best, I would say — certainly in this late period. A lion of the anti-apartheid movement has become something like an international public nuisance. He embarrasses or horrifies almost every time he opens his mouth. A shame, really.

By the way, does No, No, Nanette remind you of Babe Ruth? (Yes, I know this is lore, rather than true history.)

One more thing — this just in. In today’s column, I mention such expressions as “He’ll die in his own arms” — expressions indicating a person’s self-love. Readers have contributed, “During sex, he screams his own name,” and — I hadn’t heard this — “If he were chocolate, he’d eat himself.”

Anyway . . .