Sartre's 100th birthday. He was the hero of my youth and I have always loved the old wall-eyed misanthrope (who can ever forget Simone's description of him huddled in a fuzzy orange fur coat writing, always writing, during the War?) . His autobiography the absolute ne plus ultra best in all literature -- Les Mots-- brief, comical, and ultimately an admonition that all self assessments should run under 100 pages. Someone please tell that to all those memoirists who are always from ignorant families from Texas. God!