Jay does a kind of tour, touching on some burning issues and some less burning ones. He talks about the Nobel Peace Prize, a movie about Stalin, and “realism.” Personalities include Marco Rubio, Bill Cosby, and J. D. McClatchy. The podcast is not without music — from Lynyrd Skynyrd, Shostakovich, and Beethoven. Come take the tour.

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Something Mitt Romney said reminded Jay of what Hillary Clinton once said — to him (Jay). H. R. McMaster delivered an important message. Eliot A. Cohen unearthed an extraordinary (early) American. A man learned a painful lesson in Alaska.

Jay talks about all this and more, including sports and a deodorant commercial (yes). The podcast ends with his dad singing a fight song. A brief podcast positively bursting with eclecticism.

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The appointment of John Bolton as national security adviser puts Jay in mind of mustaches — and he plays a little Stephen Foster. He also has coined a term that he hopes will catch on. Whether it does or not, he likes it. He talks about language, political and non-, and he tells a couple of stories — presidential ones. He ends with material related to Saint Patrick’s Day, late or not. “Danny Boy” is for every day, right?

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Jaywalking around, Jay talks about a newly named regiment in Russia. And about Erdogan’s latest maneuvers. And about Trump’s different sorts of maneuvers. Later on, Jay indulges in the delights of language and in a song — a kind of hymn — written by a composer most famous as a teacher of other composers. (A great many people partook of that Boulangerie.)

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This episode begins with a meditation on “the people” – that phrase in the mouths of politicians left and right. We also hear some music: variations on “The People United Will Never Be Defeated!” Jay then talks about immigration, sports, and some other things. He ends with The Parade – the parade ordered up by President Trump, who was inspired by Bastille Day in Paris. Jay says, if there is to be a parade, at least let the music be good. We then hear some John Philip Sousa – specifically, a march that bears the name of a newspaper. It steps lively!

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Jay says that he likes a performer who rolls his own — that is, who writes music, in addition to performing it. He plays a fair amount of music on this show — and talks about the latest brouhaha over immigration, that sh**storm. He further talks about Trump’s tweeting. (“Tweet on, Mr. President,” he says.) He ends, however, the way he began, i.e., with music — played by a British heroine.

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Jim Mattis, the secretary of defense, put Jay in mind of Frederick the Great, the Prussian king — so we hear a flute sonata by that versatile monarch. Jay also tells a story involving “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes” — so we hear Benny Goodman play that famous melody on his clarinet. (We also hear Helen Forrest sing it.) Last, Jay eulogizes Ed Rowny, our great arms-negotiating general. Rowny idolized Paderewski, the Polish pianist and statesman — so we hear Paderewski in revolutionary music by his countryman, Chopin. A typically eclectic “Jaywalking.”

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Jay starts with a song, whose title William F. Buckley Jr. once used for a book. Then he gets into judges: What makes a good one? He continues with some “Trumpservations,” as he has called them in the past. And he ends with a letter from a musicologist who compares a quarterback of today, Tom Brady, to a composer of yesterday, and forever: Mozart.

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Jay begins with some music by precocious types: a Shostakovich piano trio, written when the composer was 17; the Mendelssohn Octet, written when the composer was 16 — that sort of thing. Then he talks some politics. He also gets into the bees — and the birds and the bees. (He tells a love story.) He ends with what he calls “probably the most glorious shout I know” — a Christmas song.

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Jay begins with some guitar music — played by Sharon Isbin. Then tells a story about William F. Buckley Jr. and Isbin. He goes on with commentary on Jerusalem, the NFL, Theresa May (two Theresa Mays, actually), and more. He ends with music, offering one of the most beautiful, and hauntingly beautiful, songs ever written.

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