So this week I cleverly lured a large of people into calling me a statist lickspittle, managed to get Daniel Ellsberg to call me “stupid” and inadvertently got Mort Sahl to namecheck me in a tweet. If my hippy father were still alive he would definitely be kvelling. Short of resurrecting Lenny Bruce and getting him to somehow take note of me, I’m not sure what mix of things could have made him happier.