Charlottesville, Va.—You have to feel sorry for William Kunstler: he’s doing it for free now, peddling his apocalyptic hallucinations in Lilliputian auditoria before audiences promised free admission and refuge from a sudden electrical storm.
He is, like all of us, older now, thicker around the middle than he was in the halcyon days of leftist putsches and front-page radical lawyering, but some things haven’t changed. He’s still having problems, apparently, with those eyes on the top of his head; he carefully removes the eyeglasses from a breast pocket during his introduction and plants them topside, where they’ll remain for the rest of the evening.
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