Two Cheers   Why is it, coming in to land, we’re always touched with strange affection— the terra cotta of the rooves, the narratives of small backyards, the many motivations in those capsules flowing on the roads? How is that, for all our shortfalls, we manage to get so much right? Something in this tilting down absolves our shallowness, forgives the callow politician chasing down a vote? An excess of venality can still arouse some sort of shame. The gaps between our damned and blessed are not immeasurably grotesque. The rich, so far, do not require excessive heights of razor…