Mad? That's not quite the word

After Howard Dean's dumb speech at the Campaign for America's Future conference Thursday, C-Span aired a panel discussion--self-inflatingly titled Blogfire--of leftie bloggers who had attended the care-and-share fest.

Supposedly Wonkette and Joshua Micah Marshall were going to be there, but either I missed them (I caught only the second hour) or they blew it off. So it was pretty boring without the head and, er, heart of the left blogosphere.

But at least one panelist, the professionally feisty radio blatherer Stephanie Miller, did say something fascinating, or at least caused a reaction that was fascinating. (The other b-teamers were Duncan ("Atrios") Black; Christopher Rabb of afro-netizen.com; somebody going under the name Jerome Armstrong of something called mydd.com; and The Nation's egregiously lipless Washington editor David Corn.)

What Miller said was that the Democrats need Howard Dean as DNC chairman, for a number of reasons but mainly because "he makes the Republicans so mad." The audience cheered and clapped at this, but the panel seemed rather . . . quiet, and I believe Rabb actually said he didn't support Dean. Very interesting, in light of what Sens. Biden and Edwards said about Dean today. The Republicans think they are the party in disarray, but, as the differing reactions to Dean's speech show, they've got nothing on the Dems.

Update: Dean's speech is featured nowhere on the Campaign's site. You have to click on "Media Center" to find a .pdf or .doc transcript. No video.

Update II: Bonus Miller. "Barbara Boxer is not just doing the Lord's work, she is the Lord."

A Churchill Cornucopia

The Rocky Mountain News kicked off a five-part (count 'em!) series today on sickening CU ethnic studies prof Ward Churchill. Looks good, even though the Rocky, being a big newspaper with libel attorneys and everything, irritatingly calls Churchill's gigantic lies and moral imbecilities merely "problems."

The Ward-centric Pirate Ballerina, which labors under, er, fewer such constraints, is having a disturbingly good time with the story. (The Ballerina's Jim Paine even helped the Rocky in its investigation of Churchill's ancestry for the series.) (He's still not an Indian.)

Anyway, the Rocky series promises good clean fun for sane Americans of all ages. The first part alone contains at least one line of comic genius: "If Churchill is cleared, the committee [on research misconduct] must determine to what extent his reputation has been damaged and how that might be atoned." Ha-ha!

Update: Second favorite line, from Ward: "I don't do the Lady Clairol and I don't do the pancake makeup like Susan Harjo, OK?"

Rain dance

The tornado sirens went off a few minutes ago. First time for Denver County in many years, I think, and right now it's raining about as hard as I've ever seen around here. Just another sign the drought is ending, I hope.

Isn't he a liberal?

I've read two columns by the Miami Herald's Leonard Pitts in my life. One is his magnificent screed of 9/12/2001, which begins by calling the Islamofascists "unspeakable bastards" and ends by warning them, "You don't know what you just started. But you're about to learn."

The other is today's, which he addresses directly to the Carterville (Ga.) Daily Tribune News columnist who, Pitts just discovered, has plagiarized him at least eight times since March. It begins:

Dear Chris Cecil:

Here's how you write a newspaper column. First, you find a topic that engages you. Then you spend a few hours banging your head against a computer screen until what you've written there no longer makes you want to hurl.

And includes this paragraph, which is one of the most unbelievable things I've ever read:

The one [plagiarism] that really got me, though, was your theft of a personal anecdote about the moment I realized my mother was dying of cancer. ''The tears surprised me,'' I wrote. ''I pulled over, blinded by them.'' Seven days later, there you were: ``The tears surprised me. I pulled over, blinded by them on central Kentucky's I-75.''

Pitts has steam coming out of his ears.

(via Rathergate)

Update: In an apology like a forthright schoolboy's, The Dismal Seepage Daily Tribune Carbuncle announced today that it had fired Cecil. The note from "management and news staff" was posted at 2:01 CDT, which means that it may have been put up just minutes after Pitt's column.

Gesundheit

"Richard Wagner's lasting claim on our attention rests above all on his conception of the 'total work of art' or Gesamtkunstwerk, in which music, poetry, dramatic action, and visual spectacle blend to create an overpowering experience."--John H. McWhorter

Of course, I post this quote only because I know my reader(s) will recognize the parallel and say to themselves, "Why, my favorite blog also combines music, poetry, dramatic action and visual spectacle to create an overpowering experience." We shall leave for another day how that overpowering experience might manifest itself.

(via the Brothers Judd, who for years have claimed that Eric and Julia Roberts are really the same person, merely to divert attention from the fact that they they themselves are actually the famous female country singers)

Horatio Alger quote of the week

As Mother Watson will not reappear in this story, it may be said that only a fortnight later she was arrested for an assault upon her sister, the proprietor of the apple-stand, from whom she had endeavored in vain to extort a loan, and was sentenced to the Island for a period of three months, during which she ceased to grace metropolitan society.

--from Mark, The Matchboy, which is coupled with Alger's earlier Ragged Dick in this edition.

Interesting facts and figures

The Salt Lake Tribune reported last week that the Colorado River through Cataract Canyon was running at 66,000 cubic feet a second, with a predicted peak over Memorial Day of 70,000 cfs. It's running at 52,000 today. Seventy-thousand is nowhere near a record (114,900 in 1984; estimated as high as 225,000 in 1884), but this spring's runoff is the highest in seven years.

So the Park Service has extra boats patrolling at the canyon's "Big Drops" to nab rafts and equipment and people as they splutter by. People who've quit spluttering they probably just fish out at Lake Powell.

W. Mark Felt?

What a disappointment. But at least W. Mark Felt is having a good time. Nobody would begrudge him that, even if it was actually W. Mark Felt, not Woodward and Bernstein, who inspired much of the journalism committed over the past three decades.

Update: Say it fast a few times and it'll come out "W. Fart Melk."

Blogs explained

"Gunny Bob," a KOA talk-show gink I'd never heard of before tonight, just said to his audience, "'blog', in case you don't know, is short for 'weblog'." Has there been any need to say this the last two years besides in, maybe, AARP Magazine?

Update: A reader complains that I am being unfair to AARP. He also informs me that the "older generation" still enjoys sex, and would particularly enjoy some right now.

Typical

This afternoon I had potential tenants coming over to look at apartment #3 (2br, hdwd flrs, util. pd., free rat rmvl.), and just so they didn't meet my enthusiastic (well, vicious) dog Billy Bob prematurely, I shut him up in my office.


Vicious: behavioral training (above) hasn't helped.

When I ran back upstairs to let the idiot out, my office door was locked. Billy Bob does not paw at doors. He locked it just to spite me. Had to get a hammer and pop the hinges (yes me, not him--he's better with fine tools) to get him out.

Unrelated headlines

"Death wins grudging acceptance in Aspen"--Rocky Mountain News, 5/26/05.

"Unexpected avalanche kills man, 53, at A-Basin"--Denver Post, 5/21/05.

Book review

My first shot at blog book reviewing was going to be Nelson: A Dream of Glory, but it got mixed up in the back-to-the-library books and went, strangely, back to the library. Good thing too, because the sucker is huge (943 pages). Need to do some weight training for that.

So now I've decided to review Oleg V. Khlevniuk's The History of the Gulag: From Collectivization to the Great Terror (2004), even though I'm only halfway through it. (I'm gonna be great at this.)

Oh, first here's an interesting factoid (actually the only one I remember) from Nelson: Yada-yada: British ships would occasionally fire on each other for what might strike sane people as microscopic breaches of naval protocol. Nelson himself shot a hunk off a sloop or shallop or jollyboat or maybe even a corvette because it didn't salute him correctly, the touchy soon-to-be-one-eyed little bastard.

Back to the Gulag

Khlevniuk's History of the Gulag is a perfect complement to Washington Post reporter Anne Applebaum's Gulag: A History (2003). Her too-brief overview of the system focused on how camp inmates lived. Khlevniuk, senior researcher at the State Archive of the Russian Federation, looks at it from the other side, reproducing documents from a wide variety of official sources as the Gulag became both an instrument of repression and a half-assed capitalist enterprise.

One of these documents is a memo from a provincial Gulag bureaucrat to his NKVD superior in Moscow, rather forlornly asking how he should respond to the complaints of relatives of those who were "shot for no reason whatsoever" in his province during the Great Terror. (As one official admitted, many such "excess excesses" had occurred.)

Relatives were never told that their loved one (or two) had undergone the "ultimate punishment," the official was informed, but that he was serving "a prison term in remote camps." When complaints continued, however, a circular to Gulag officials ordered them to simply "discontinue, until further notice, the review and examination of cases of those sentenced to the ultimate punishment . . ." In short, to ignore such cases and the nosy relatives who brought them. Bureaucracy made easy.

Well, not that easy

One of the best things in this fascinating book is a section of brief biographies of NKVD, Party, and camp officials. There are just over a hundred of these, and nearly two-thirds of them end heartwarmingly with "arrested in [month, year], shot in [month, year]."

Update: Heard Dennis Prager (or "Denis Praeger" as the New Criterion spelled it the other day and which was half-corrected and is still spelled wrong) conduct a slightly tetchy interview with Anne Applebaum about the Wapo's editorial today reprimanding Amnesty International for calling Gitmo "the gulag for our times." Fine, fine.

Update II: Dissing Nelson on the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Trafalgar (via the Judd Bros.).

Rather and Kodos: we merely exchange long protein strings

Lots of people, including Hit and Run's Nick Gillespie (who stole my Peabody (and Sherman) Award joke before I even got to use it), snickered at Dan Rather's speech on winning that award last week. Rather ludicrously ended with, "Never give up, never back up, never give in while pursuing the dream of integrity filled journalism that matters."

No one pointed out, though, that given Rather's problems, this peroration was as loony as the one given by another cartoon character--famed space alien Kang (or was it Kodos?), who when he assumed Bill Clinton's form on "The Simpsons" ended a speech with: "We must move forward, not backwards, not to the side, not forwards, but always whirling, whirling, whirling towards freedom!"

Sheesh, even the cadences are similar. Scary.

Rock(ies) II

Of course, after I make fun of the Rockies and vow further to see them not, there we were Sunday: Coors Field, Rockies v. D-backs. Rockies still suck mythically (11-26), so I wandered around most of the game. First thing that happens, I run into Dinger. He was passing marijuana cigarettes out to the kiddies:


Dinger: he's got porn,too.


Then I walked around the concourse to the infamous Rockpile (upper left), way out in center field, where seats cost just a dollar. Old-timey look because, you know, a dollar to see "professional baseball":

Since I'd never been underneath the Rockpile I went and had a look. Nothing could have prepared me for the horror:


Hunger, disease, filth: Rockpile inmates struggle to survive.

Finally I skulked up to Club Level for a shot of the notorious Coors Field Escalator of Death:

Thirty-five feet of hell; fortunately, there's Weitz & Luxenberg.

Update: Now I feel like a jerk. This just came up on the RMN site. What are the odds?

Mentioning Prager again

Roger Kimball's piece on the White House press briefing yesterday is great, but it contains a very odd mistake. In quoting Dennis Prager Kimball renders the man's name as "Denis Praeger"--twice. Weird. How could no one have caught that? Is it some sort of joke between these guys? The Frenchification "Denis" makes me suspicious.

(via Powerline)

Update: Look, I don't want to make enemies here, but this is just spooky. They've gone in and corrected the spelling in both places--but only halfway. They now spell his name "Denis Prager."

We love a parade

As usual Saturday morning I sat at the computer, eating my gruel. As usual, I was out of ideas for blog posts. Suddenly music blasted through the window, and looking out I saw:


A parade. Going right by my house.

Well, that was convenient. I grabbed the camera and fired away as five or six hundred people marched by, in celebration, I googled out later, of Pentecost. It was probably organized by one of the little Hispanic churches around here, but it was definitely a multi-ethnic bunch. A few more pics:

What, no puppets?

See the blue and white flag right beneath the American flag? Whose is that?

Israel's. I love this shot.

A pretty good Dennis Prager moment, don't you think? And Drunkablog was there. And conscious.

Footnotes

University of Colorado ethnic studies prof Ward Churchill has formally responded to the charges of plagiarism being investigated by CU's standing committee on research misconduct. Pirate Ballerina has a good roundup.

Here's a question, though: Why did Churchill make his response in (by all accounts) 50 single-spaced pages?

For one thing, of course, he's trying to make the committee's job as difficult as possible. After all, reading anything by the guy is like diving into a tidal wave, and single-spacing the verbiage only multiplies the degree of difficulty. And Churchill had to have footnotes. As his fellow CU ethnic studies prof Arturo Aldama once said, "Whether you agree with it or not, [Churchill's writing has] always been praised for academic rigor. He has 400 footnotes per chapter."

Just count 'em--four hundred. And he is a master at using footnotes to obfuscate. How many do you suppose he can cram into 50 single-spaced pages?

The second reason Churchill single-spaced the document? Simple petulance. This was his chance to say "fuck you" to the committee: "There's your response, assholes. Have fun!" It's all so junior high school the guy should get a D-minus and a frowny face sticker.

Herman Wouk: seven decades as a young American writer

The other day I spotted The Caine Mutiny sitting uncomfortably in the Denver Public Library's "new books" section, and naturally wondered, since Caine was published in 1951, what it was doing there. Turns out it was in a display of Pulitzer Prize winners, but in a new (relatively--2003) paperback edition, with a preface by its author, Herman Wouk.

When Caine was published Wouk, who at 90 continues to write novels, had already written two of them, served on destroyer-minesweepers like the Caine (well, not like the Caine) and, from 1936 until the war, written jokes for one of the top radio comedians, Fred Allen.

Kids, sorry, but I'm one of those creepy and decrepit fans of old-time radio, so to me that last by itself is enough to make Wouk a national treasure: he worked in the first truly national medium, big-time radio, and he was one of the best at it.

And think of all the people he must have known--starting, just for kicks, with Bogart, who gave an indelible performance in the movie version of Caine. Bowsley Crowther thought it was bogart-like.

Not to mention that he wrote at least one of the finest American novels of World War II, War and Remembrance, and that throughout his career he's written about this country with (mostly, of course) affection and humor.

So where's the almost certainly great memoir? Actually, Wouk's preface for this Caine is an excerpt, he says, but adds that the story of his "literary life" itself he has "laid aside, to get on with that life by writing a new novel."

Now that is good old-fashioned American optimism.

Update: Shouldn't Wouk get, like, a medal or something? (Though he has been voted into some secret lodge going under the name of the "Academy of Achievement," which he probably isn't happy about.)

Update II: Here's the 1988 TV version of Caine starring Brad Davis as Captain Queeg. Surely I saw it, but I don't remember a thing.

Update III: Wait a minute. Brad Davis as the, er, ball-rolling Captain Queeg? No way I would forget that. And don't call me Shirley.

Keeping up with--Ward Churchill!

While I've kept up with Churchill's case since plagiarism charges against him were referred to CU's standing committee on research misconduct, I haven't posted much about it. Fortunately Jim Paine over at Pirate Ballerina has stayed on top of Churchill (ewwww!), and notes that today is the deadline for Ward to respond to those charges.

Unfortunately, as Paine also notes, we will probably learn little or nothing about Churchill's response (if any) since the committee is keeping all its information secret, which, no matter the reasons they're doing so, will not add to its appearance of impartiality.

Poetry corner--of death!

Most people don't know that Communist poetry equals reading fun. Not because it has any of the qualities associated with good poetry, of course, but because the typical socialist Ode to the Downtrodden has a single, profound, artistic aim: to demonstrate the moral splendor of the poet.

Family and friends enjoy it when I point such things out, so others will too. Here, for example, is a poem I found at the League of Revolutionaries for a New America (one of many "stabs" at poetry on the site). It's by a guy going under the name of Tony Robles, and it's called, simply, Sister Anna:

"Can you give me a dollar for something to eat?"
sister Anna walks on Market Street
draped in a dirty blanket
it's cold people walk by

she's a big lady her belly,
a bag of yesterdays
of dreams
of raindrops

A belly full

Yes, sister Anna's belly is full of dreams, and raindrops, and good stuff like that. But now Robles spots another big-bellied symbol--this one of our planet-destroying consumer culture:

somewhere up the street, a
santa jiggles his fat,
a shakedown illusion.

Already raggin' on Santa, who hasn't even tried to stem a buck from him. Anyway, Robles gives sister Anna the dollar, apparently without making her listen to his poetry, and muses:

I know, the world got hard of hearing
all of a sudden
But sister Anna,
your voice is the warmest on the block
Because of you this city is
a little warmer this morning

A little warmer

Yeah, right. Being accosted by a psychotic in a filthy blanket is definitely everyone's favorite day-brightener. And notice how Robles' love for the big dirty crazy lady doesn't quite extend to getting her some help. He'd rather use her as an object for self-congratulation: out of all of us in the heartless city only he hears sister Anna, only he gives sister Anna a buck, only he can see that sister Anna is just like Mary Tyler Moore. In short, Tony Robles is quite a guy.

And that's the point: Tony Robles is quite a guy. He wants you to know that. And the League of Revolutionaries for a New America is only too glad to spread the word.

Word fun

The other day Andrea Harris, Tim Blair's no-nonsense "blogrumsfeld," used the term "meatspace" to denote the universe in which she has an actual physical job. "Meatspace" as opposed, of course, to "cyberspace," where she just pretends to dress up in a saucy little Nazi costume to smack the trolls around.

Googling, I find that meatspace is very common, and has been around for at least ten years. How could I miss such a vivid (not to say gross) term for so long? Oh well. Just a reminder never to underestimate my own ignorance.

"Blogrumsfeld" isn't bad either, by the way.

Workin' for a livin'

This will be hard for my loyal but realistic readers to believe, but every once in a while I get a real honest-to-God script to edit. Almost all of them have been for proposed TV shows, and as far as I know none has ever been produced. Still, I really like doing them; they are the single miserable touch of glamour in my pathetic life.

But years ago I got a glimpse of the big time: a Hollywood-type movie script written by Huey Lewis, the once-popular musician, and G. Brown, the long-time rock music critic for the Denver Post. This was some years after Lewis' days of hugeness, and before Brown was fired for plagiarism after nearly 30 years of writing for the Post.

The script, oddly for a faded rock star, was about a hard-partying rock band on tour. It was, of course, lousy. But it had a few funny things in it, some of them intentional. For example, the band's tour was called the "Auntie Maim" tour, and in one scene the moronic rock drummer (yes, it had one of those), sitting stuporously in a trashed hotel room watching "Leave it to Beaver," suddenly exclaims: "Hey! This is a rerun!"


Funny peculiar

The script also provided a unique look at the collaborative process in such star projects. At one point, for example, G. noted marginally that a portion of the dialogue needed "punching up." Huey responded admirably. I don't remember the actual dialogue, but let's say a line read, "Hey, you idiot, take your feet off the table!" Huey, very neatly, with a carat and everything, would insert the word "fucking," or more rarely, "fuckin'." So now the line read, "Hey, you idiot, take your feet off the fuckin' table!" Or, alternatively, "Hey, you fucking idiot, take your feet off the table!" Huey saw that this was good, and for the rest of the scene "fucking" or "fuckin'" were sprinkled liberally throughout.

The big time. My involvement, naturally, was marginal. I don't think I even got to wear my editor's hat, but was relegated to proofreading. Needless to say too, but the script was never produced. Otherwise I would have been a (fuckin') player.

How to succeed in blogging without really dying

John Hawkins has 24 fine pieces of advice for blogging success--and one that's just scary. Number 20 reads:

If you're going to be successful, you have got to consistently put out a lot of links or a lot of material day in and day out, week after week, month after month, year after year (unless you're as good as Mickey Kaus). If you're not pumping out either 10-15 links per day or 1000 words plus then you're probably not doing enough to ever get really big.

Doesn't that seem a little Dickensian to you? By my admittedly rough calculation (I didn't calculate at all), since February 8 I've posted approximately .89325 times a day (corrected for incoherence). This means that I am 12 to 15 times underweight in postagings. In other words, I am a loser.

But, I defend myself, Professor Bunyip hasn't posted since April 15, and I check him every day. Oh yeah, Hawkins said something about being good. Gotta work on that.

Update: Why did I have the urge to say, "I check heem every day," like I'm faking (badly) a Mexican accent? Gotta work on that.

Neighbors: representative sample II

As I was saying, I have weird neighbors. On all sides. Always. This, for example, is the house of my current across-the-street neighbor, John:

Cute, cute, cute?

John is so weird I've never had the courage to take his picture. Instead, I asked the fine dead character actor Henry Jones to assay John's psychology:


Uncanny.

Despite his irascibility, though, John has long rented his attic to a revolving night gallery of the pierced, the tattooed and the giganto-panted. Last year, however, was different: his tenant, a young woman going under the name Amanda, seemed unusually normal. From my office window I used to see her peddling off to work mornings on her big-fendered old bike. Sometimes she'd wear kneesocks, or carry a little bag lunch. Kind of cute, I thought.

But as most of us eventually learn, kneesocks are not a reliable indicator of character. Amanda, it turns out, was the distillation of evil. At least, according to John. I learned this when I found a leaflet from John in my mailbox. It was--well, here's how it starts (all illiteracies in the original, I claim):

TO OUR FRIENDS AND NEIGHBORS IN-------. We very much need both to talk with a former housemate and to secure (from you) any info that might help this happen. Last April, Amanda [redacted] (and her little dog too!) moved into the top half of our house and lived there until mid-December when, unfortunately, we were
compelled to request that she live elsewhere and to insist that she leave immediately.

John indulges in a little character development here. Amanda is "a solitary figure [who] circles (repeatedly, sometimes obsessively) a property's peripheries and, errily also stops at (& even stares into) the properties' windows." Amanda does this, John implies, as the mastermind of a burglary ring. Even Amanda's little dog "Freckles," whom John defames as "anorexic" (he's just nervous) comes under suspicion as we are implored to "WATCH THE ALLEYS" for the two.

Amanda, as imagineered by John. Now think about those cute little kneesocks--wrapped around your neck.

Then comes the peroration:

Your call about these kinds of unusual behaviors (and of the disturbing behaviors (around local burglaries) might be the call that makes 'the difference'... the difference to us, the difference to our Community. Though we may not yet know each other by name, I bet that we residents, share so much more than shopping at Safeway. Like working hard. Like wanting homes that are comforable and safe . . . for the families they shelter and the friends that gather. . . . Here's to our working together!

Well now, ain't he civic-minded (please refer to pic of Henry Jones above). Uh, no. Here's the note John posted on his mailbox, conveying somewhat different sentiments to Amanda:


Enlarge for full bizarreness.

The final paragraph is a little difficult to read:

I will not hesitate to inflict extremely serious injuries wounds cut bruises etc., to give you that ultimate S & M experience not quite but in the general vicinity of death itself which scum of the earth (as opposed to spiritual) truely deserve. Our inventory is almost done: you are in serious trouble--John.

Then, perhaps sensing he'd gone too far, John concludes with a conciliatory p.s.:

They will not allow buttplugs, dildos and whips in prison. But I am sure they already have very inovative methods and they will not stop every couple of minutes like your 'master to ask if you are ok.

On his mailbox. Oh, and just the other day I happened to be in the alley behind his garage. John has posted this sign:



Lying directly below the sign is (I swear by Dave Barry I am not making this up) a dead skunk. I have pictures, but they're really gross (dead skunk pic, $15). I can't swear it was placed there intentionally, but it's too perfect (you know, in a sick way) not to have been.

So, there's another neighbor. I have lots more, and you can look forward to hearing about many of them as this blog grows. Or whatever it does. C'mon, I have to live next door to these people. The least you can do is read about them. Cheerfully, please.

Drunkablog investigates: What Would Jesus Drive?

In a Drunkablog exclusive, our crack just-had-a-couple-at-lunch investigative team solves the mystery that has divided America: WWJD?


Shocking discovery: Jesus drives a Ford Taurus.

Update: In a related story, Drunkablog has learned that Jesus buys His groceries at King Soopers. Except broccoli. If He wants broccoli He goes to Alfalfa's. No pesticides.

Update II: Hi, all you C & L folks! Don't be afraid. Take a look around. At the very least, check out the (photoshopped) picture of Ann Coulter I linked to here. It'll serve you right for visiting a right-wing hate site like The Drunkablog.

Scattered outage

I seem to have a slight case of writer's block. Nothing's coming--no
ha-ha, no slice o' life, no serioso. No serioso, man.

But my determination is steely. This blog may not have ideas, or good writing, or interesting links, or scary pictures, but it has the one thing more important than any of that stuff:

Update: Sorry, that picture really spooked me. Nothing against Ann Coulter. She'll never be mistaken for a great thinker, but she can be pretty funny, and the cause of funniness in others. To call what she does "hate speech" is laughable (well, except maybe that one time). Still, that is one creepy picture.

Update II: Oh, and I can't remember what important thing this blog has. No freakin' idea.

Brothers-in-libel

Melanie Phillips highlights yet another example of the recent and happy agreement between leftist academics and rightist mutants on a question of overriding importance to both: just how nasty are the Jews, anyway? She quotes the Telegraph:

The Web site of Sue Blackwell, the Birmingham lecturer who presented motions calling for boycotts of Israeli universities, contains a recommended link to a Web site owned by an anti-Semitic neo-Nazi activist. Wendy Campbell, who owns the MarWen Media Web site, has promoted Holocaust denial and anti-Semitic conspiracy theories discussing "unrivaled Jewish power," and maintains an additional Web site entitled "Exposing Israeli Apartheid," which is also linked by Blackwell.

This meeting of self-described "minds" is not uncommon, Phillips points out: "[T]here is . . . considerable crossover between neo-Nazi, radical Islamist and ultra-left websites, thus creating the remarkable axis that now exists between the left and the neo-fascists. The language, imagery and sentiments they all use are often identical."

My own favorite example is David "I'm no neo-nazi" Irving's approving link to an article by, of all people, Ward "I'm no leftist" Churchill. Now why would Irving, the very face of ultra-right psychosis, link to an article by a person who is, at least superficially, the anti-Irving?

Maybe it's because in the article Churchill, as so often citing international law in new and original ways, accuses historians of the Holocaust--and specifically Irving's libel trial opponent Deborah Lipstadt--of crimes against humanity, for which she and they should be put on trial.

And wouldn't that be just ducky with Irving! Exposed by Lipstadt as a malicious liar and anti-semite, he might even volunteer to play Vyshinsky in a show trial like that.

Update: Many interesting facts and figures on the strange love of Churchill and Irving are available here and here.

All you add is the writing

New bloggers! Check out Greyhawk's post on everything you always wanted to know about blogging. I'm a grizzled vet at this stuff myself (two months, 22 days), and my visitor numbers are skyrocketing, but if you haven't figured out all the basic stuff like blogrolling, trackbacks, and enduring Blogspot service outages, this will give you an excellent start.

(via Instapundit)

Ward: I am frivolous (red)

A CU faculty committee has found that academic fraud charges against Ward Churchill are "not frivolous," interim chancellor Phil DiStefano said today. This pretty much means what we already knew: the Churchill investigation will be a long and as-boring-as-CU-can-make-it process.

What made me laugh, sort of, is the e-mail response the Daily Camera received from the postmodern Natty Bumpo (I think; the Camera's sourcing is kind of odd): "the tenured ethnic studies professor said Thursday that he will respond by explaining 'in detail, why the allegations are not simply false but transparently pretextual.'"

Transparently pretextual! He just can't help cooing in the Stalinist language of love, though he dresses it up in filthy academic robes. Really, would you trust this guy with your dog, let alone your son or daughter?

I'm not even sure I get what Churchill means by the phrase. That the committee has yet to officially report that the plagiarism etc. charges are "not frivolous?" So what? Why did I have to call on memories of a graduate seminar in semiotics to figure that out?

(via the indefatigable Pirate Ballerina)

Update: Charles Johnson thinks Chutch shouldn't be allowed to play with the e-mail machine any more.

Update II: The Drunkawife, among others, points out that I am an idiot. Pretextual, for God's sake, means "on a pretext," not (at least in this case), "before the text exists." My brain itches.

Romenesko: Reporters are dimbulbs

Well, he doesn't really say that. Not right out, anyway. But take a look at how Poynter Online prefaces its "One Year Ago" archives feature:

Nostalgia trip: Digging through the Romenesko Archives

Romenesko Archives

Please note: These are OLD STORIES from the archives. These are not links to current news stories.

ONE YEAR AGO this week on Romenesko

The bold, the italics, the capital letters, all in the original. Four times the man screams at us that these pieces are old. Isn't that a little much? Or does Romenesko have reason to fear that if he had, say, just two warnings, one of today's highly trained journalists might think he was reading a current story? That could lead to all kinds of embarrassment, couldn't it?

Actually, I get the feeling it already has led to at least a couple kinds of embarrassment, don't you? But for whom?

Update: Yes, whom?

Saw sub, glub glub

A friend of mine just got back from a four-day trip on the Upper Salt River. Paddling an inflatable kayak ("i.k." or, to snooty hardshell-kayak purists, a "ducky"), he dumped in 3+ and 4+ rapids five times, and came close to drowning twice. His verdict on the trip: "Marvelous!"


Do not attempt. Closed course; professional stunt drinkers.

Lucky country

Anzac Day seems a good day to ask, Why is the blogging vice so strong in the two countries at the top of the world that celebrate it? First let me ask this: how many Aussie or New Zealand bloggers do you read? Over the years I've regularly or semi-regularly perused (in no order) Silent Running, Whacking Day, Tim Blair, Professor Bunyip, Slatts, Currency Lad, Evil Pundit, John Ray, John Ray, John Ray and (very infrequently), John Ray. God help me, I've even learned to enjoy the inadvertent comic stylings of she who flushes not, Margo Kingston.

Per population or whatever the term is, I read more Australian blogs than I do those from any other country, including my own. And I know more about Australian politics (they're a mess) than is really decent for a foreigner.

Why so many strong voices from such distant and relatively unpopulous places? Like the U.S., Australia (and of course New Zealand) is becoming blighted by a bureaucratic political correctness in media and government that seeks to prescribe how people should live, what they should believe, and what they must "tolerate." These prescriptions, seemingly in passing, also rule out actually voicing pride at the unique achievements and freedoms of Australian society.

Working against this political correctness, though, is a parallel rambunctiousness, a rude, self-mocking, utterly Australian sense of freedom, of possibility, of the value of calling things what they are--of common sense and of don't-fuck-with-me. All these bloggers seem to breathe this sense from the antipodean air (yes, even Margo), and to express it with passion. I wish I could remember what blogger it was who said, proudly, that Australia is "one of the meanest democracies in the world." Whoever it was, these bloggers love that it is, and remembering Anzac Day, so do I.

Update: God, I actually included Margo in the category of Australians with common sense. No excuse for that. I therefore quit blogging.

Billy Bob's busy day

It really was. First we sauntered and ran around Sloan Lake. Just under three miles for me, about seven for Beelzebob, plus four or five throws of the frisbee.

Of course, we stopped at his favorite hangout so he could say howdy to the geese. They like him so awfully much, as constant readers will know.

Then he dallied awhile with a younger woman. She had frisbee skills Billy hadn't dreamed of. She enjoyed herself immensely, too, even after he nipped at her. Uh, twice. No blood no foul!




Finally, in an obviously staged shot, Billy Bob relaxed at the end of a--well, a not unusual Sunday at all. Go find your Kong!

Maybe I'll read "Alias the Dead"

Take a look at Curtains for the Editor, which I bought years ago at Capitol Hill Books in Denver. Never read it, somehow, but what a cover. Curtains was part of Dell's "Mapback Series" of the 40s, and there are a lot of them out there. They have titles like The Corpse Came Calling and Just Around the Coroner, and probably none is worth reading, but if I were the sort I'd collect them.

Here's what the "Simpsons"-esque Shoporium's seller had to say about his copy:

A worn copy, as befits its age and literary quality. A deep crease up the middle of the cover is the most appalling blivet. There are other, milder crinkles, edge and corner ear, and heavy rubbing (with tears) along the edges of the spine. Thin wartime paper has turned tan. Binding is tight.

Heavy rubbing. Tight binding. Sexy lot, these bookish sorts. But what's with the term "blivet?" You get it from the context (a "most appalling blivet," the man says, no doubt in a snooty British accent), but as everybody knows, this is a blivet.

Anyway, check out the cool covers.

Daily quote

"One of the many great things about the internet is the way it solves petty mysteries, like why Rory Gallagher hasn't released an album lately. Apparently because he died in 1995, which came as news to the Professor."--The esteemed Professor Bunyip, whose Nobel (heavy drinker consolation) Prize is long overdue.


Bonus quote!

"That was perhaps to be expected, as he is only a small editor and tires easily."--The Bunyip on Andrew Jaspan, editor of the Melbourne Age, who recently went on an undeserved vacation and is not tall. In his usual courtly style the inimitable prof manages to make at least eight "short" jokes at Jaspan's expense in three consecutive posts (just keep scrolling). Love the Bunyip.

Clarification: The "Daily quote" feature is not a daily feature. It will appear as desperation dictates.

Go! (Rockies!) Go! (Rockies!) (etc.)

Two years since I'd been to a Rockies game, God knows why, but we saw them play the Giants Sunday. Rockies led into the 7th, but I fell into a reverie or perhaps a syncope and when I came to, Coors Field was empty. Everybody had gone home.

Loser: Jason "Jumbo Pants" Jennings.

Ump's delight: First baseman Todd Helton urinates on home plate to protest playing for Rockies.

Mascot poll: Dinger most hated in world history.


Upshot: Beautiful weather, no interesting drunks, two foot-longs and a medium coke, $15.50.

Update: Maybe Helton was still, er, upset about former Rockies radio guy Wayne Hagin's big mouth.

Breaking news

Reason in their current issue has a review of The Anti-Chomsky Reader. Nothing strange about that; what's weird is that even though it was published way back in August 2004, Julian Sanchez calls the Reader a new book. Heck, National Review had it in July 2004, and even Keith Windschuttle, busy fighting wombats in the wilds of Australia, found time to review it last September. Can a book published 8 months ago qualify as "new?"

And no, I haven't read it.

Drunkablog interview: Pirate Ballerina's Jim Paine

Jim Paine started his blog Pirate Ballerina only in February, but almost immediately he was being linked by some of the biggest-name bloggers out there, including Michelle Malkin (just yesterday, in fact), Instapundit and Little Green Footballs. Why such quick notice? Since he started his blog, Paine has focused exclusively on the man many Americans love to hate, and love to read about even more: the plagiarizing, data- and heritage-faking, woman-threatening, art-thieving, revolutionary attitude-posing University of Colorado Professor of Ethnic Studies, Ward Churchill.

Paine comes by his antipathy to Churchill almost organically. Born and raised in Colorado, he served in the military towards the end of the Vietnam War and kicked around the country as a reporter, editor and publisher for a decade before graduating from college. He also started several internet businesses, and when those prospered returned to Colorado to raise Appaloosas on the ranch he and his wife built from the ground up. Oh, he’s also published (under the name Tom Elliott) a horror novel that was nominated for a Bram Stoker award and many short stories in the same field, and is currently working on a western novel.

So we’re talkin’ your basic all-American here, with maybe a little Freddy Krueger thrown in to liven things up. I talked to Paine via the magic of e-mail about Ward Churchill and those who defend him, how Churchill is a symptom of the anti-American orientation of ethnic studies departments, and, well, the horror of horror writing.

The interview was conducted earlier this month, not long after Churchill's case was referred to a CU faculty committee, entailing at least a seven-month wait for any resolution. Paine, nothing daunted, has just continued to pile up nugget after delicious nugget of Churchill, crispy-style.


What prompted you to start Pirate Ballerina?

PirateBallerina is actually a dead blog--or I should say, was dead for nearly two years, until I revived it to address the Ward Churchill debacle. The blog grew out of a notepad file I kept of interesting Churchill articles and opinion pieces while discussing him on Little Green Footballs. Many of the posters there are knowledgeable in a wide range of subjects, and that file just grew and grew thanks to the many links they posted. Eventually the file got rather huge--and this was after only three or four days--and I noticed quite a few re-postings of the same information for newer readers at LGF, so I decided to fire up PirateBallerina and post these links in a more organized fashion. And like Topsy, it jes' growed.


Churchill 'n me

What was it about Churchill that initially drew your interest?

The Hamilton College speaking schedule had just become national news. I was initially interested only because he teaches in Colorado. Then I started looking at his work, his publications, transcripts of his speaking engagements—all as impenetrable and wrong-headed as his infamous "roosting chickens" essay. But I'll be honest: the first thing about him that outraged me was the picture of him on his CU faculty website. The long hair and sunglasses just screamed "poseur." I know, pretty lame reasoning, but I'm talking about first impressions.

---

Churchill's "little Eichmanns" speech is akin to '"Tommy Smothers calling his brother a 'fascist' whenever Dick Smothers wouldn't let Tommy have his way. So ludicrous it's funny. I still can't read that essay without thinking of the Smothers Brothers."

---

Now, having read a great deal of his work--far too much, in fact--I can say he's probably been asking for what he's presently enduring for at least 20 years. His own chickens are coming home to roost. I will say that I was not outraged by his "chickens" essay. To me, his remarks were similar to Tommy Smothers calling his brother a "fascist" whenever Dick Smothers wouldn't let Tommy have his way. So ludicrous it's funny. I still can't read that essay without thinking of the Smothers Brothers.

And Churchill has written some dozen books where he basically calls everyone in the U.S. fascists. The Nazi comparison is endemic to his work. Now, I'm in no way excusing Churchill; I understand how hurtful the "little Eichmanns" comment would be to the families of the victims and survivors of 9-11. But Churchill's use of the comparison struck me as so absurd it had no emotional effect on me. As far as focusing on Churchill, it was patently evident within the first few days that Churchill is the poster child for leftist academia. Now, he has said he's the poster child for "academic freedom" and "freedom of speech," but that's disingenuous. No one is stifling his ability to do research or trying to limit his scholarship. Nor is anyone calling for him to be censored or gagged for his essay. He is being called on his apparent serial falsifications of data, his multiple plagiarisms (both artistic and scholarly), and his still-unconfirmed claims to Indian ancestry. He is being called on feeding at the public trough while condemning the public that keeps that trough full. To wax metaphorical, the "chickens" essay was just a careless match he dropped into the forest of his own distortions, frauds, and lies.


Is Pirate Ballerina your first blog?

No, I actually started two other blogs a few years ago, thisiscountry.com and thataintcountry.com (both inactive now). I grew up listening to country music, and at the time I was annoyed tremendously at what the new "country" artists like Faith Hill and Rascal Flats were doing to country, i.e., obliterating it under a wave of predigested twang-pop. Now I have XMRadio and I listen to the old stuff; I figure that makes more of a statement than preaching the glories of Loretta Lynn to the choir. I voted with my feet, I guess.


Did you ever have any professors like Churchill?

Nope. I had a few who may have been certifiable (one philosophy professor played tapes of whale noises during class on the theory that it somehow aided in the learning process), but never anyone like Churchill.


What was your military experience?

I was in the Navy during the Vietnam War, at the very end of the war, anyway. I should point out that I don't denigrate Churchill's actual Vietnam service (whatever that turns out to be); I question his own conflicting accounts of that experience. He has claimed variously to be a "Public Information Specialist," and a LRRP (long-range reconnaissance patrol) point-man; his military records say only that he was trained as a truck driver and a projectionist, and don’t show the award of the CIB (Combat Infantry Badge), which Vietnam veterans tell me he would have received had he actually participated in any "action."


Are you a "political" person?

I guess a good way to describe my political and philosophical beliefs would be to call myself a member of the Reformed Church of Ayn Rand. I don't pretend to defend Rand's own inconsistencies--the dichotomy between her private life and her writing. I do believe that the government's only salable product is force, and when it attempts to amend racial imbalances, or finance education, or protect various businesses, or finance the retirement of our seniors--it can only do so via force, and that is wrong, not to mention incredibly prone to corruption. And when you have the government involved in patently non-governmental enterprises, you end up with the Ward Churchill debacle, wherein the American people are required to finance the tenure of a lying bully and braggart with spurious academic credentials and an even more suspicious personal history.


What do you think of ethnic studies in general? Is it a legitimate field of study?

I believe that ethnic studies as it exists is pure "Victim Studies"--emotion-driven invective masquerading (poorly) as scholarly inquiry--and a survey of what the professors of these departments have published bears that out. And while defenders of these departments claim their influence on the public is minor (as if that's a defense), I disagree. What intellectuals think eventually trickles down through the general public; I considered a few years ago writing a book called A Nation of Victims that would examine this sorry state of affairs, and I may still do it. In any case, every course of study within the "Ethnic Studies" purview, whether it be Chicano, women, black, Asian, or Native American, could and should be under the auspice of anthropology, psychology, history, or sociology departments.

---

"The hand-wringing over what a 'chilling effect' the Churchill case will have on so-called 'academic freedom' is wrong-headed, since the actual chilling effect will be that scholars will be more hesitant to invent facts, whether about their field of study or themselves."

---

Not to say that these departments are less infested with idiots, but their standards and methods of inquiry are more stringent. It's been pointed out that since their formation in the early 70's, Ethnic Studies departments have often served as a place to dump otherwise unqualified minority students. The theory is that while these students clearly weren't scholastically prepared, they improved the university's "affirmative action" profile by earning an easy degree in "ethnic studies." I'm not certain that that is a valid argument, but I suspect universities didn't mind the perception of equality.


What can be done to cut down the number of embarrassments like Ward Churchill in the academic fields you mentioned?

A good start would be the rebirth of academic administrative integrity, or the complete dissolution of ethnic studies departments--either of which events would result in the other. It doesn't matter whether academic bias is Right or Left, the system as it exists today is essentially corrupt, and expecting universities to clean their own houses is as naive as believing Kofi Annan is working hard to get to the bottom of the "Oil for Food" scandal. I'm reminded of the Mel Brooks character in "Blazing Saddles" when he says "Gentlemen! We've got to do something to save our phoney-baloney jobs!"


From journalism to (greater) horror

How has your journalism experience informed your approach both to your blog and to Churchill?

Well, I think I know enough about good journalism to know the difference between libel and slander, and to protect anonymous sources. An advertising manager for one of the papers I worked for told me once that editorial was just something to wrap around the ads. Now, this was blasphemy to me; I'd wanted to be a reporter since I was in third grade, and this ad manager was spitting on the cross. Then, a few years later, I bought a weekly newspaper and learned that he was right. I was a good editor and reporter, but I was just awful at selling advertising--so I sold the paper before I managed to kill it. I later learned salesmanship while working my way through college (at the tender age of 29) and became a very good salesman.


And writer, apparently. Tell me about your horror novel, The Dwelling. You didn’t mention that it was nominated for a Bram Stoker award.

Ah, the Stoker. Back in the 80s, I was just as enthusiastic about horror (this was back in the day when Stephen King wrote good scary stuff) as 50 billion other people, and like those 50 billion others, I wrote a bunch of horror fiction. Got published in a number of small press magazines (Festering Brainsore was probably the smallest [and most quaintly named—ed.] as well as a couple of the "mid-sized" small press genre pubs like New Blood and Cemetery Dance. Prior to that I'd had no success in publishing my work; I did get a rejection slip back in the 70s from an SF editor who said "This is perhaps the most disgusting story I've ever read." It was a story of a subsonics researcher who discovers the resonant frequency of the human anus, sells a device that emits these subsonic sounds to the police for riot control, but fails to mention that low frequencies are omni-directional). Now that I think about it, it was a pretty disgusting idea, though the wording was pretty tame [Uh-huh—ed.]. I think the title was "The Brown Button." You can see, I think, why I drifted over to horror. The gross-out is more germane to horror than to SF, plus, you don't have all that pesky science to learn.

I sold a second novel on the heels of The Dwelling to Leisure Books--this time with an agent. The sale was for less than I'd received for my first novel, which pissed me off no end. I got into an argument over the title (it was Posthumous, which the editors at Leisure claimed was "too erudite"); they wanted to name it Beware the Night Sky--which had absolutely nothing to do with the book, but the cover they picked was excellent: a close-up of a creepy clown's face with the make-up cracking--again, with absolutely no connection to the content of my book. Great cover, though, and they later used it for somebody else's book. In any case, that experience (plus not making much money) turned me away from writing as a career and toward working to pay the rent. So I gave up on being a starving artist and went out and made some money.


Let’s get back to Churchill (and away from that brown button) for a moment. What was your reaction to the findings of the CU committee looking into Churchill’s behavior?

I recall saying that I doubted he'd be fired, or even slapped on the wrist. As it turns out, I was right, and with a seven-month review staring us in the face (and with his outrageous claims of ethnicity very cleverly moved off the table!), I'll make another multi-part prediction: Churchill will keep his position at CU, but only until the Ethnic Studies program there is dismantled (within two years), at which time Churchill will be free full-time to lecture to anarchists on the most effective way to kill whitey. The rest of his fellow ethnic studies kin will A) join more stringent fields of inquiry, such as anthropology, or B) learn from the pimply-faced assistant manager at their new place of employment how to properly salt the french fries."


In light of the Churchill mess, do you support David Horowitz's Academic Bill of Rights?

No. Or, to clarify, no, I think Horowitz is generally well-intentioned, but in most cases his academic bill of rights covers territory that "academic freedom" has already staked out. What we need is not another law or "bill of rights" subject to interpretation, corruption, and of course, the ever-popular unintended consequences. We need a re-commitment to integrity and fact. I firmly believe that the eradication of "Victim's Studies" departments will go a long way toward that goal. The present hand-wringing over what a "chilling effect" the Churchill case will have on so-called "academic freedom" is wrong-headed, since the actual "chilling effect" will be that scholars will be more hesitant to invent facts, whether about their field of study or themselves. That's a "chilling effect" we can live with, and one that obviates the need for Horowitz' bill of rights.


Several successful single-issue blogs (the two main Rather sites most notably) are attempting the transition to new subjects. Do you plan on doing the same if and when the Churchill saga comes to some sort of conclusion?

I've considered what will happen to PirateBallerina once Ward Churchill goes the way of all flim-flam men. I think there's a need (though not necessarily a desire) out there for a website that concentrates on "the ministry of silly walks" that is college Ethnic Studies. And I've already started a separate forum wherein people can discuss other members of these victims' studies departments. As I mentioned before, Horowitz has it wrong--we don't need more laws to protect "True" academic freedom or academic freedom of speech. We need to eradicate whole departments wherein victims congregate and share strategies to suck dry the public teat while fomenting hatred for the public. I believe they call us hoi polloi or "the great unwashed" or the "petite bourgeoisie" or, most recently, idiots. I don't know about you, but I think it's time for us idiots to do some housecleaning. Firing Churchill will be a good start. Ending Ethnic Studies would be an excellent second course of action.

Update: Jim Paine writes to inform me that I am an idiot. First, he was not born in Colorado, but moved there at a year old; second, and more egregiously, I failed to mention that his novels and short stories were written under the pseudonym "Tom Elliott." I've incorporated that correction in the interview.

Religion brief

Cardinals fail to elect successor to JPII.


Cards: Pope? Nope.

Tomorrow: Interview with Pirate Ballerina!

The first Drunkablog interview goes up Tuesday, and it's a doozy, because I was lucky enough to snag the blogosphere's foremost debunker and mocker of Ward Churchill, Pirate Ballerina (aka Jim Paine). This guy is pretty interesting, folks--entrepreneur, rancher, novelist--and he brought his trademark incisive commentary about Churchill, ethnic studies programs and academia in general (plus his adventures in the scary world of horror fiction!). Be there or be damned, minions of Satan.

Mildly amusing piece touted

One of my surfeit of sisters sent me a long yuckfest purportedly exposing the tragic problem of "literature abuse." Amusing here and there, but overall, eh. The piece does attempt to warn parents "to look for signs that their children are taking the wrong path--don't expect your teenager to approach you and say, 'I can't stop reading, Spencer.'" (Okay, it actually says, "I can't stop reading Spencer," but if your teenager ever calls you "Spencer," it's past time to search the drawers, Dad.) The funniest part was the

Self-Test for Literature Abuse: How many of these apply to you?

1. I have read fiction when I was depressed or to cheer myself up.
2. I have gone on reading binges of an entire book or more in a day.
3. I read rapidly, often "gulping" chapters.
4. I sometimes read early in the morning or before work.
5. I have hidden books in different places to sneak a chapter without being seen.
6. Sometimes I avoid friends or family obligations in order to read novels.
7. Sometimes I re-write film or television dialog as the characters speak.
8. I have pretended to watch television while secretly reading.
9. I keep books or magazines in the bathroom for a "quick nip."
10. I have denied or "laughed off" criticism of my reading habit.
11. Heavy reading has caused conflicts with my family or spouse.
12. I am unable to enjoy myself with others unless there is a book nearby.
13. I seldom leave my house without a book or magazine.
14. When travelling, I pack a large bag full of books.
15. At a party, I will often slip off unnoticed to read.
16. Reading has made me seek haunts and companions which I would otherwise avoid.
17. I have neglected personal hygiene or household chores until I finished a novel.
18. I become nervous, disoriented, or fearful when I must spend more than 15 minutes without reading matter.
19. I have spent money meant for necessities on books instead.
20. I have sold books to support my reading "habit."
21. I have daydreamed about becoming a rich & famous writer, or "word-pusher."
22. I have attempted to check out more library books than is permitted.
23. Most of my friends are heavy fiction readers.
24. I have sometimes passed out or woken groggy or "hung-over" after a night of
heavy reading.
25. I have suffered "blackouts" or memory loss from a bout of reading.
26. I have wept,become angry or irrational because of something I read.
27. I have sometimes wished I did not read so much.
28. Sometimes I think my fiction reading is out of control.

If you answered "yes" to five or more of these questions, you may be a literature abuser. Affirmative responses to ten or more indicates a serious reading problem--seek help now! Fifteen or more "yes" responses indicates a severe or chronic "readaholic" personality. Intervention is seldom effective at this stage.

Worth reading the whole thing if you're going to live forever and have time to kill.

Joker's wild

Mary Mapes is back, and boy, is she pissed. The Anchoress has excerpts of the book proposal for Mapes' upcoming (November) spew-all, and it is as nasty as any Rathergate and Ratherbiased fan could hope (though neither had the story as of 4 p.m. MDT). The Anchoress thought she had an exclusive, but, alas, the Daily News ran it first. She got the "wilding" quote, anyway, which might be the greatest quote in the history of the world. Wait, I mean funniest.

Update: If it's true. Rathergate: I'm gonna wait and see.

Planting day

Roses, daisies, Sweet William.


Dolls, pigs, Spongebob.

Villagers?

A story from the NYT today begins: BEIJING, April 13 - "Thousands of people rioted this week in a village in southeastern China, overturning police cars and driving away officers who had tried to stop elderly villagers protesting against pollution from nearby factories."

Great story, read the whole thing, blah blah, but would someone please tell me, Since when can thousands of people live in a village? I'm from a town of about 2,000 myself, and it was a strange and probably damned place, but it by God weren't no village, Bucky. Is this some sort of Chicom thing, or is the Times just being weird again?

(via Instapundit)

My cold--is it getting better?

Yes, but it was a doozy. Nobody told me there was a flesh-eating strain going around this year.

Time and Again

Jonah Goldberg posted some responses to his peeve at people in movies who "refer to 'World War I' before World War II takes place," and one reader, straying off-topic as readers do, mentioned how World War I was called "World War Eye" in a time-travel novel he had read: "The heroine, a girl from the 1890s, is briefly brought forward to the present day, and while looking around the hero's apartment, asks about the title of some book on his shelves, "What's World War Eye?" The hero just feels dismay that he'll have to tell her what's going to happen in the Twentieth Century. . ."

The novel, not named, was Time and Again by Jack Finney. Finney's highly original conceit was that his hero, Sy Morley, through a secret government program, was trained to "think" his way back in time by a systematic dissolution of the mental cords that bound him to the present. No time machine. It was probably my favorite book as a "young adult" reader, and I've re-read it many times as an old adult reader. Finney's evocation of his hero's wonder at actually making it back to the New York of the 1880s is indelible. Finney even has the audacity to make the Statue of Liberty's arm, sitting in Battery Park before it was soldered to the lady on Bedloe's Island, a crucial plot device.


What's all this, then?

Finney also wrote Invasion of the Body Snatchers, which has been made into a film three times, and into a musical at least once. (I couldn't find any reviews of it, dammit.) He was apparently a bit of a queer duck as well, which is only appropriate. For one thing, he enjoyed fooling the Post Office by drawing his own postage stamps, which he would affix to letters and mail. They always got through.

Update: Forgot to mention that in the same scene of Time and Again Goldberg's reader mentions, the heroine sees television for the first time, and after clicking around and watching for a bit, utterly fascinated, asks Sy, "How can you bear to do anything else?"

"A problem with the problem page"

That's how Blogger begins its own explanation of the, er, problem (see two posts down) they had last week.

Even funnier, when you click on the link for the full explanation, you get this. Very A.T. Tappman, Chaplain of them (4th quote from bottom).

Update: Of course, WikiWackipedia gets the A.T. Tappman, Chaplain, quote wrong. It's "I yearn for you tragically . . .", not "I long for you tragically . . ." I knew that, but trusted Wikipedia anyway. Ergo: maroon.

Update II: A.T. Tappman, Chaplain.

Where have all the flowers gone . . .

Help. Me.

Wicked Thoughts has the explanation for Blogger's meltdown last week: they were kinda stupid.

(via "Crazy John" Ray)

Gone tomorrow

We didn't get enough snow in Denver this winter to moisten a mouse's mouth, and now look:












We sure needed it.

Dullsville

In From Dawn to Decadence: 500 Years of Western Cultural Life, which I claim to be reading right now (prove I'm not), Jacques Barzun says of one "19c" literary movement:

The summit of Realism must be total dullness, and George Gissing near the end of the century makes the point. In a novel of his own, one of his characters is writing a novel and striving for prose and events so dull that nobody will be able to keep reading.

This naturally reminded me of The Dullest Blog in the World. Alas, the site hasn't been updated in months, but the last entry will serve as a distillation of its exquisite boringness: "My knee had a slight itch. I reached out my hand and scratched the knee in question. The itch was relieved and I was able to continue with my activities."

"The knee in question." That's poetry! And people recognize it: the post has garnered 457 comments, among them, "This is not only the greatest blog, but possibly the reason the internet was conceived in the first place."

Al Gore would probably agree.

Moderation is overrated

In his transition from slavering commie to drooling death beast, there was one thing David Horowitz never bothered to change: his pranksterish tactics against his enemies. Not surprisingly, his FrontPagemag sometimes reflects this with its poor fact-checking, putrid (or no) copyediting, and exuberant, not to say reckless, stridency. Still, everybody reads it.

What usually draws me is the hope that FrontPage's managing editor, Jamie Glazov, has put together another of his wonderfully inflammatory symposia. Glazov, a Russian immigrant with a history Ph.D from somewhere and no anger-management certificate from anywhere, loves America, and hates commies and Islamists. So when he moderates a symposium that includes such folk, moderation is the last thing on his mind. Here he is moderating a certain well-known Trotskyite obscurantist with a tire iron:

The Left supported the Soviet empire over the U.S. precisely because it favors despotism over individual freedom; it hates capitalism and free choice and desires the submission of the individual to a supreme totality. It despises individual success and fulfillment. And it therefore hates George Bush because he represents these values without apology, and he unequivocally does what Ronald Reagan did: label the totalitarian enemy that the Left admires for what it is: an Evil Empire. And he is ready to go to war with it to protect the lives and freedom of millions.

That's the beginning of a question. This ain't Schieffer country, pard.

Glazov conducts these symposia by e-mail, of course, but it's fun to imagine him talking around a table with the participants. His voice gets louder and louder, his face gets redder and redder, until finally he leaps at some poor deluded leftist:

Glazov: Thanks Ms. Burkett. Let me intrude for a moment here, as I can’t remain silent if three members of this symposium base their commentary on the assumption that . . . 'U.S. foreign policy was an atrocious tangle of human rights violations, exploitation and oppression for most of the 20th century. And, certainly, neither by design nor by result did these policies liberate anyone.'

As a Russian émigré I can tell you: thank God for Ronald Reagan and the system that he represented for helping to liberate my people by design and by result. The Left can foam at the mouth at these words, but for the Russian people, aside from those masochists who crave the return of Stalinism and further abuse, Reagan’s aggressive anti-communism was a providential godsend because it helped fuel the collapse of a sadistic and vicious empire, and liberated millions of the suffering people under its yoke. I can speak for my whole family and for many of our relatives and friends in Russia, and say what a gift it was to have Reagan help push the Soviet tyranny toward collapse and allow a society to emerge, despite its many problems, where people are no longer terrified to say what is on their minds and do not have to fear the Gulag Archipelago for their views and beliefs.

Questions? We don't need no stinkin' etc. But he does ask one occasionally. Here he is during a symposium on the ancient mariner of anti-Americanism, Noam Chomsky:

We are obviously dealing with quite a sick and demented individual who can’t really be taken seriously. Who in their right mind would actually write a serious review of Chomsky’s work, unless it was a psychiatric diagnosis of some kind? Correct?

Uhhhh. Correct! Definitely! A little later:

So Mr. Scialabba [a lefty book critic for various publications], we can agree, then, that Chomsky’s works are not reviewed by academic journals basically for the same reason that . . . comic books or Danielle Steele novels aren’t reviewed by them either, right?

Right! But please stop shaking me! I actually do agree with Glazov, at least about Chomsky, but whether out of fear or conviction, I'm not sure anymore.

So this is Blogger

Over the last two months Blogger has been better than I expected, considering what I'd heard, but this was bad. No posting for two days. Bad, bad, bad.

Coincidentally Comcast has had some problems as well, and so did I with a cold that's given me an inkling of The Fog of War, or at least the Fog of Old Age. So few and far between, post-wise. This shall change at once.

Drunkie's "Believe It Or Not!"

How many times have you seen this? A typo in the title of a book. I've never seen such a thing, and I read at least a book a year, sometimes more.


Stategy: When there's no time for strategery.

Ultra and Mediterranean Strategy, which I spotted at the Denver Central Library, was published in 1989 by William Morrow, a company that's been around forever and probably should have, you know, caught this one. But William Morrow is an imprint of HarperCollins, which in turn is owned by Rupert Murdoch's Newskkkorp. You know what that means:


Cheapskate crap-publisher runs its name all together to save a space but won't pay its editors enough to show up sober.

HarperCollins also claims to have published Solzehnitsyn, but I don't know what. The Glag Archipelago, probably.

Update: "Morrow continues its long history of publishing quality
books . . . with acclaimed authors such as Sidney Sheldon, Mary Stewart, Robert Pirsig, Emeril Lagasse, and Cokie Roberts." Robert Pirsig and Cokie Roberts. Don't think about it too long. You'll go insane.

Update II: I can actually see Pirsig burying a hatchet in Cokie's head. I can see it.