Why Kramnik is just the bestest.

People have long been decrying the antics of our surly buddy Kramnik, but your favorite red-bearded fool (me) is here to tell you the dude's the bee's knees. People often say the Salem witch trials were terrible—and they were—but Salem, Massachusetts has never had to spend a penny of its budget on tourism advertising since then. And until Kramnik decides to go on the warpath against me, I’m perfectly willing to sit in the peanut gallery, lobbing small candies at the people involved, and shouting dismissive phrases at anyone who gets angry at Kramnik's Abe Simpson impression.

To most of Kramnik's “victims,” a gruff "toughen up, son" or "take a concrete pill" seems in order. The dude’s shooting in the dark here, and nobody is lauding his track record of successfully catching people. He’s hardly Sherlock. Look, we're collectively amazed he's caught anyone at all! But, like the FBI catching commies during the Cold War, if you accuse enough people, somebody’s sure to be guilty.

Much like Hans Niemann’s alleged “anal buzz-buzz” sessions, this is helping Levy Rozman in his battle against New York prices by allowing him to mass produce clickbait video after video, and that’s the real crime here—just kidding, but these controversies keep the chess world excited and on its toes. If Kramnik’s blind bear dance wasn’t here to entertain us, I’d have to pretend to care about the Women’s World Chess Championship, and I'm not strong enough for that.

What I’m saying is that as a community, we need to change our glance from "that's terrible" to "how fun!" As my lovely Aunty J used to say, "Never let the truth get in the way of a good story."

Plus, caring less about Kramnik’s excesses means fewer people calling me paranoid whenever that 1000 Elo player makes perfect moves after playing like a wet napkin for the first 13 moves. I wish to reserve the right to grab my own torch and pitchfork and start a wee, cheerful mob.

Now, sadly, I must shill for myself here and tell you that, like every insufferable person you know, I have a podcast. It's called The French Bishop Chesscast. It’s available almost everywhere you find podcasts—except iTunes, because in loving memory of Steve Jobs, Apple is a raging dick.