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Doling out the Swiss banks' Holocaust money is turning into dirty business


Some days, you really don't feel like taking the high road. Take today, for example, when I read a letter from a reader named Molly (not her real name). Maybe I just wasn't ready to deal with this total stranger who seems to have taken a keen but rather unpleasant interest in me. Maybe I just hadn't had my coffee yet, and my mind was like a dozen unmade beds and half-baked ideas and I wasn't standing firm enough not to be blown over by the sheer force of this person's meanness. At that moment, the high road was looking mighty unappealing.

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