And now, thanks to the in-library, inter-island loan system peculiar to our lovely 50th state, I've obtained and read virtually all of Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe murder mysteries. And I must say, though I've enjoyed the last (Murder by the Book, The next Witness, Die like a Dog) most of all, I am surfeited like one who, thinking he could never get enough of salted peanuts, has eaten way too many salted peanuts. My gorge has risen. I am weary, beyond satiety, of Stout's (Wolfe's and Goodwin's) smart-ass, Ohio-based, too-too cynical, heterosexist, Broadway musical-loving infatuation with the culture (grant it that) and city-slickness of New York, New York. Time to quit.