In the late 1970s, when I was writing columns and editorials for the Washington Post, MEG GREENFIELD had just been appointed editorial-page editor. She was canny enough to assign me only those editorials that required no thought or knowledge; when a golfer in Maryland murdered a goose that had interfered with his game, the piece was my meat. I wrote the goose editorial on deadline, and rushing past Meg's desk, I shouted, "What should I call this?" Without looking up, she shot back, "'Honk If You Think He's Guilty.'"

Next to James Thurber, she was probably the funniest serious person...

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