You may have noticed the enthusiasm for the murderer of Brian Thompson, the health care executive. Among some, he is practically a teen idol. But has it not ever been thus? I address this question at the beginning of my Impromptus today. I move on to Donald Trump, Elon Musk, Rickey Henderson, and others. Try it here.

Let’s have some mail. Earlier in the week, I had an essay — a little memoir — titled “WFB: Big, and Glorious.” (Subtitle: “William F. Buckley Jr. was a man of parts.”) A reader points me to a column by George F. Will, published in 1985. The Washington Post included a paragraph from it in a Will chrestomathy last month, as the paper marked the 50th anniversary of Will as a Post columnist. Here goes:

Because conservatism is realism about mankind’s limitations, it does not lend itself to the flattering of the species. Conservatives are healthily disposed to detect signs that the clock of time is running down and things are going to wrack and ruin. This disposition frequently gives them a certain grimness. [WFB’s] singular achievement has been a compatible marriage between conservatism and cheerfulness.

A reader is not so cheerful about this: “Charlie Woods hits hole-in-one but he and Tiger lose in playoff at PNC Championship.” That is a headline from The Athletic. Why should a sports publication make such an error? Speaking of “make”: You make a hole-in-one rather than “hit” one.

Last week, I published a letter from a reader who quoted a witticism by Sir Colin Davis, the late, great conductor. “They have perfected the standing evacuation,” he said (as opposed to the standing ovation). He was talking about audiences in Los Angeles. A reader now says,

I “LOL’d” when reading Sir Colin’s quip. As a lifelong attendee of the L.A. Phil, and a subscriber to the L.A. Opera since it started up, I have seen this for my entire “concert career.” I think it has to do with the fact that both venues have many levels of parking below the auditoriums. Circling up out of them can take a half-hour. My personal policy is that, as long as the performers are onstage, I will remain. But all around me there are people streaking out to get to their vehicles.

In recent weeks, I have been publishing columns and letters about poetry — specifically, the memorization of. A reader writes,

Fabulous topic. My late husband and I attended the same school in 8th grade, and there we memorized “The Highwayman” [Alfred Noyes]. Over the 50-plus years of marriage, we would still refer to the moon as a “ghostly galleon.”

Such a touching note.

Another reader says,

My family moved from Los Angeles to Newark, N.J., in the mid-1960s. Many of the teachers in the elementary schools had been unemployed Ph.D.s in the Depression, and the Newark school system had had the foresight to hire them. These teachers used “old-fashioned” teaching methods, such as the memorization and recitation of poems. Among the ones I remember or occasionally re-learn are “The Highwayman,” “The Cremation of Sam McGee” [Robert W. Service], “Concord Hymn” [Emerson], “The Owl and the Pussy-Cat” [Edward Lear], “Lenore” [Poe], and, of course, “The Raven” [also Poe].

Memorizing poems has kept boredom at bay on long road trips and during waits in public buildings, and has sensitized me to the occurrence of meter and rhyme in writings where they are not generally noticed.

Great stuff. And I thank you, one and all.