"Here, under protest, is beef burgers."

The internet is not for for porn or old fashioned mail scams anymore. It's not even for podcasts, which this book invented both before and after the fact. No, the internet is a machine that decontextualises everything from half remembered adverts to your own dark night of the soul in order to generate a profit for a cabal of millionaires too boring for the mortal eye to comprehend.

The internet loves this book for its righteous put downs of Woody Allen and John Landis, and that's fine because I love those bits too. If the rants about the Irish or the record of worst pitch ever made to HBO surface, they do so on a different channel. Seeing the whole may not be possible but in the nontext of the internet the idea of the whole isn't even recognised through disavowal.

As presented in these lunchtime dialogues, Orson Welles was a machine who contextualised everything in relation to his own career. The results are sometimes magnificent, occasionally informative and frequently baffling. The whole is not visible here but it is gestured at, often grandly, in a form that does not exist to bear the weight of critical examination but which deserves better than mere memeification.

Call it conversation. That might help.