June 30, 2006

The Guardians of Palestine

When the Israeli-Palestinian conflict heats up (as it is so often wont), what does a reasonable person hoping to learn about recent events in the Middle East do? Why, he rushes to The Guardian, of course. To what else would one turn other than to this beacon of anti-Israeli cant? Sundry anti-Zionist propaganda “websites,” maybe. They’ll offer about as fair a perspective as al-Guardian.

Accordingly, as the current situation in Israel escalated, we rushed on over to the beloved Guardian “website,” wondering what the apologists for terrorism and anti-Westernism would have to say. This drew us to the leader “Storm over Gaza,” a rather lifeless version of the typical anti-Israel palaver with which The Guardian is typically replete.

Ah, yes: All the telltale signs of militant anti-Zionism were present—a failure to put the recent Israeli incursion into Gaza in a reasonable historical context, the obligatory references to Gaza as an Israeli “prison,” &c. We know what you’re thinking, dear reader: Ho hum.

In fact, the predictable pap from the eminences at The Guardian pales in comparison with the delightful reader comments found underneath this staff editorial. This is where things really heat up. Typical Guardian readers opine that Israel is worse than Nazi Germany, that there’s no such thing as anti-Semitism, and other spine-tingling “arguments.” If you’re anything like us, you find this unadulterated lunacy far more entertaining than the semi-lunacy of Britain’s left-wing press.

Take, for example, this charming example of argument, penned by a fellow whose nom de guerre is “AntiCensorship” (all of the numerous errors are his):

…You are very right, Americas umbilical relationship with Israel will be Americas undoing. Condi Rice often seems no more than a spokeesperson for Israel. The amount of money and tiem Americans spend worrying about Israel is immense. What benefit does Israel bring America. None whatsoever. Yet a majority of Americans symathise with Israel and condemn palestinais as sand niggers towelheads etc.

The US media reports everything froma Jewish perspective and allows the terminology suitable to Tel Aviv. When 911 happened no country benefited more than Israel. I can well imagine the delight at the Knesset as this would mean a synthesis of foreign policy. Finally the US and Israel and preferabley all western countries would unite to destroy Israels enemies. Saddam , Iran , syria, Hamas, Lebanese militias etc.

They were dancing on the tables at davids Bar and Grill and giving High Fives no doubt ( or perhaps trying to keep a straight face while considering the benefits) I think the Arabs have just cause to blame America because America allowed the Israel lobby to dominate the US foreign policy agenda. Anybody who disagrees will be demonized. Pat Buchanan, Michael Moore, Senator Byrd etc The Zionist attack dogs like Mr viagra Limbaugh and Blonde strumpet Coulter can be let loose. US media is cowardly and corrupt. An oath to Israel is de rigeur at Fox News and often it seems at Guardian towers

Now that, dear reader, is the product of a real nutter! And, we suppose we should mention, it is also the product of a man who has some real difficulties with the English language. Perhaps he would have been better served to write it in Arabic? Or maybe German, circa 1942?

With such a ridiculous, illiterate rant, it seems unfair—and unnecessary—to pick it apart. Thus we’ll only mention its more revealing bits.

“AntiCensorship’s” statement “US media reports [sic] everyting froma [sic] Jewish perspective and allows the terminology suitable to Tel Aviv” perfectly gives the lie to the notion that the anti-Israel cause is anti-Israel alone. Rather, this benighted fellow believes that all Jews have the same view on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and there is one monolithic—and evil—“Jewish perspective.” The enemy, you see, isn’t Israel; it’s those nefarious Jews. Nothing like some blatant anti-Semitism, eh?

We also savored the notion that the Israelis were “dancing on the tables” when 9/11 occurred. Oh, boy: That’s about as ineffective an argument as anti-Israeli apologists can proffer.

After all, if we recall correctly, large numbers of Palestinians rejoiced at the 9/11 attacks. This caused sufficient consternation for Yasir “She’s My Baby” Arafat that he futilely attempted to cover this up. As it is, “AntiCensorship’s” point is about as effective as a suicide bombing that only manages to kill the bomber. Which, we suppose, is effective, but not as it was originally intended.

But, hey, who would be foolish enough to expect wisdom from a pro-Palestinian devotee calling himself “AntiCensorship”? The PA isn’t exactly known for its great regard for intellectual tolerance and civil liberties, now is it?

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June 29, 2006

Howard Dean: The Timothy Leary of the 21st Century

Sundry “webloggers” on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web are in a tizzy about a speech Democratic National Committee chairman Howard Dean offered to a religious conference in the nation’s capital on Tuesday. As has been reported in the press, Dr. Dean declared his desire for America to return to the 1960s, a time in which presumably we could all turn on, tune in, drop out, and vote Democrat.

To be sure, Dr. Dean’s hagiographical take on the purple decade is a bit laughable, coming as it does from the chairman of a national party that advertises itself as far more nuanced than its opposition. Ah, yes: Heralding the excesses of the drug culture, the Black Power movement, and libertinism—what’s more nuanced than that?

Now, to be fair, it appears as if Dr. Dean’s discussion of the 1960s wasn’t entirely laudatory. He actually mentioned a few “mistakes” made during those heady years. Yet he still set up a cartoonish contrast between the evil 1950s, which he likened to Bush Administration, and the glorious 1960s. Of course: Those horrid 1950s, in which such trifles as Brown v. Board of Education were decided. How square, man!

Although there was obviously much to chuckle at in Guru Dean’s paean to the 1960s, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” particularly savored the following line, which, we presume, was delivered without even a soupcon of irony:

We know that no person can succeed unless everyone succeeds.

Uh, come on, Guru Dean: That isn’t just sappy pro-60s rhetoric. It’s also patently false.

For example, let’s take the matter of the most recent election for president of these here United States. If we recall correctly, you ran for the Democratic nomination, and you did not succeed.

John Kerry, however, did succeed this far. He did so—and this is the important bit—despite the fact that you did not succeed. In fact, not to put to fine a point on it, he actually succeeded in part because you failed.

Perhaps you don’t think that this one example proves much. Well, then, we’ll be happy to proffer another, one that also hails from the realm of American politics.

After winning the Democratic nomination for president (as a result, in part, of your lack of success), John Kerry then went on to face George W. Bush in the final contest for the office. And, despite President Bush’s much-mentioned difficulties with the English language, he succeeded in being reelected. John Kerry, one the other hand—and this again is the important bit—failed.

In short, Dr. Dean, if you hope to be the next Charles Reich or Norman O. Brown, you really ought to take more care in crafting your remarks. Or maybe, in the manner of 1960s radicals, you think that logic is “patriarchal” and “bourgeois”?

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June 28, 2006

We’re Ready To Make Nice

For some time, dear reader, it appears as if there’s been some sort of hullabaloo surrounding a trio of country musicians who call themselves the Dixie Chicks. Perhaps you know that a few years ago one of the group’s members lashed out at President Bush, claiming that she was embarrassed to be from the same state as he. Fans of country music, it seems, lean conservative, and they didn’t like this gal’s commentary one bit.

Thus began the Dixie Chicks’ nightmarish saga of criticism, death threats, and storied record sales. This experience was so traumatic for them that, on their most recent album, they decided to cash in on the horror once again by warbling a little ditty called “Not Ready To Make Nice,” or some such. Thus did the airbrushed trio hope to inflame more passions, garner lots of media attention, and hear the pleasant ringing of cash registers as a reward.

But we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” kindly gents and lasses that we are, hope that we can ameliorate this nasty situation. The Dixie Chicks—or at least the heavy-set one in the group—may not be ready to make nice, yet we are. Instead of trying to help them make a buck off of some more free publicity from this ye olde scandale, we decided to offer the first apology.

In a spirit of comity, we shall send the Chicks the following missive, which we earnestly hope will diffuse tensions, let cooler heads prevail, and allow them to warble their tunes without any fear of reprisals:

Dear Dixie Chicks (especially the heavy-set one),

We recently heard your gyno-pop anthem “Not Ready To Make Nice” on the radio, and we thought we’d try to be, in the inimitable words of Stokley Carmichael, part of the solution instead of part of the problem. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are not only ready to make nice, we’re going to make nice right now.

We, for one, are sorry that this whole brouhaha erupted in the first place. In fact, had it not occurred, we would have remained blissfully unaware of your “music.” Oh, how wonderful that might have been!

You see, Chicks, we don’t have any problem with your statements about President Bush. As far as we’re concerned, you can give him the full “Music Man” treatment: Cover him in tar and feathers and ride him out on a rail.

Instead, it’s the syrupy crap you call your music that really offends. If you ask us, commercial country music is simply un-listenable aural detritus. Enjoying that feculent sub-genre of pop palaver is tantamount to wearing a T-shirt with the slogan “I have an IQ of 73” emblazoned on the front.

In fact, though you may be embarrassed that President Bush hails from your home state, we’re embarrassed for humanity that your brand of saccharine garbage earns you enviable salaries. As H.L. Menken once said, no one ever went broke underestimating the taste of the American public. You, ladies, are a perfect example of the late Mr. Menken’s adage.

The sewage you play sounds like music for people who think Tori Amos is a bit too ballsy. It’s the audio version of “Steel Magnolias.” In short, it’s loathsome garbage.

So, since we’re nice enough to let you let ‘er rip against the President, we figured we could ask a favor of you in return. Could you please never perform again? We can certainly handle your controversial statements; it’s your lousy songs we can’t stomach.

The Crack Young Staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”

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June 27, 2006

John Tierney

Undoubtedly some of you are wondering about the subject of today’s excoriation. Who is this John Tierney fellow? And why does the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” disesteem him?

Well, we’re glad that you asked. For those of you blissfully unaware of The New York Times’ editorial page, which, in a typical display of left-wing generosity, is only available online for a fee, allow us to inform you that John Tierney is one of its regular columnists. In fact, Mr. Tierney replaced William Saffire, the libertarian-esque writer who has retired from his op-ed duties to pen uninteresting linguistic pap.

Now, readers of this humble “weblog” must know that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” aren’t big fans of many Times columnists. After all, the page is home to Maureen Dowd, the un-thinking woman’s Ariana Huffington. And let us not forget Bob Herbert, who has, at last count, re-written the same vitriolic article about Iraq 5,348 times. Tell us, Bob: Are you for the war, or against it?

But Mr. Tierney, although nominally a conservative counterbalance to Dowd, Herbert, Krugman, et al., is somehow equally deplorable. Not that we’re the first to notice this. In fact, The New Republic ran a piece on how downright unreadable is Mr. Tierney, which struck us as dead-on.

What, you may or may not be asking yourself, is so irksome about Mr. Tierney’s oeuvre? Well, first things first, we ought to admit that we’ve long harbored a hostility to libertarianism. Except for Ted; he’s even a member in good standing of the Ayn Rand fan club, which promotes a philosophy that makes libertarianism seem kindly by comparison.

Yet our aversion to Mr. Tierney is not merely ideological. Rather, he offers predictable—and predictably uninteresting—views on pretty much everything. Without fail, you can anticipate Mr. Tierney’s argument in each of his columns merely from reading the first sentence or so. Virtually every one of these things is the same.

And then one might add that Mr. Tierney routinely inflates the importance of his beloved libertarianism. For instance, you might want to take a peek at “Free And Easy Riders,” his piece in the June 17 number of the Gray Lady.

The pull quote to the column says it all: “A helmet law libertarians could live with.”

Oh, great: Finally a helmet law that will appeal to the four people in the country who voted for Harry Browne! Libertarians can tolerate massive economic inequality, starving poor people, and watering down any measures designed to stop terrorism. Now they can live with a helmet law too! Say it isn’t so, John!

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June 26, 2006

Summertime, and the “Weblogging” Ain’t Easy

Ah, it’s summertime. Or, as resident(s) of Buffalo, NY know it, the Great Thaw. Everyone dons their seersucker pants, clutches their mint juleps, and sits on their rocking chairs, watching the day pass into night. Either that or they sweat to death.

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must admit that, in our humble experience, “weblogging” in the summer isn’t the bucket of roses you might think it to be. In fact, we’ve routinely found the summer months the sleepiest, least interesting time in the “weblogging” year.

For one, in the dog days of summer our “hits” tend to get lower than Courtney Love. Apparently, people are off sunning and funning. If they’re going to spend time on the beach, it’s much easier to clutch the obligatory copy of The Da Vinci Code than your laptop. After all, it’s really tough to get Coppertone out of your keyboard. A week at a Nerd Resort may teach you nothing else, but it’ll teach you that.

Now, to be sure, our comparatively light e-traffic can also be attributed to the sorry state of our “trackback” apparatus. It seems as if our “trackbacks” work about as much as the average Frenchman—that is to say, seldom, and often with griping. As such, if you desire to “trackback” to one of our humble animadversions, you’ll have about as much fun “sharing the hate” as you would “sharing the love” at a NAMBLA rally. Which is to say, we hope, not much at all.

Still, this technical difficulty with “trackbacks” appears to be a recurring plague for our Official Technical Difficulty Department, and thus we can’t blame it for our summer lag. But we’d like to: After a few years on Al Gore’s Internet, we feel we have the requisite experience to shudder at our lowly status in the (admittedly unreliable) Truth Laid Bear Ecosystem.

We mean, come on: This was previously the land of the “Marauding Marsupial”! How far have the mighty fallen! It was bad enough when we had to read the ungrammatical tag “I’m a Adorable Rodent” at the bottom of our “webpage.” But now? We’d kill be a rat, for crying out loud.

Perhaps there’s an upside to our June through August unpopularity. Maybe this means that our humble “weblog” attracts the academic crowd, which is busy during its summers avoiding the work it doesn’t do during the year.

Did we say that this was an upside?

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June 23, 2006

More Moronic Commentary from The Nation, or Is Ian Williams Literate?

A little while ago, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” penned a “post” for Wizbang taking issue with a recent speech the Deputy Secretary-General of the United Nations, Mark Malloch Brown, offered, which was harshly critical of American concerns regarding the UN. In short, we skewered Mr. Brown for suggesting that it was American criticism of the UN—and not the assorted fiascos associated with the UN itself—that was hampering this august body’s effectiveness.

As you might imagine, the loveable lunatics at The Nation would soon to chime in on this matter. And, as you might also imagine, they have a very different take.

In a piece for America’s favorite political weekly fittingly printed on toilet paper, one Ian Williams lauds Mr. Brown for his rousing attempt to silence American criticism of the UN. Quizzically, the folks at The Nation, who typically believe that “dissent is the highest form of patriotism,” do not think that dissent is kosher in regard to the UN.

All must bow to the UN—the delightfully unaccountable global government aiming to give votes to kleptocratic regimes that don’t allow their own citizens to vote. In regard to clamoring for UN reform, dissent apparently isn’t okay to the folks at The Nation, in part because in this case the dissent actually is patriotic.

All the typical palaver one would expect to accompany such an argument can be found in Mr. Williams’ feculent piece. There’s lots of nasty sniping at John Bolton’s expense; it seems that rampant UN corruption and ineffectiveness pale in comparison to the machinations of Mr. Bolton.

Ah, yes: How dare Mr. Bolton dissent from the anti-Semitic ravings of the Arab bloc at the UN! Does he want to alienate America by foolishly taking the unpopular position that Israel deserves to exist? Who does he think he is?

Add to the typical anti-Bolton nonsense a marked inability to mention any of the sundry UN scandals. In Ian Williams’ world—much as in Mark Malloch Brown’s—Oil-for-Food, UN rapes of underage girls, large pensions for corrupt UN officials, and so forth don’t merit discussion. No, the big problem is America’s peevish criticism of UN officials who, like Brown, make healthy, non-taxable six-figure salaries, mostly on the US’ dime.

But we particularly savored this bit from Mr. Williams’ pathetic disquisition:

As Malloch Brown stated, US policy is "stealth" diplomacy; the UN's role, so assiduously worked for by Washington, is "in effect a secret in Middle America." And indeed, it is. Bolton's echo chamber in the Murdoch media, or "Fox and Rush Limbaugh," as he put, have continually attacked the organization--not for its behavior but for its existence.

This leads us to wonder: Has Ian Williams read any criticism of the United Nations? Has he ever read anything? Is he literate?

We have good reason to doubt it. Although we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have read numerous conservative complaints about the UN, we’ve yet to see an article that attacks it “not for its behavior but for its existence.”

On the face of it, this is absurd. How could a critique of the UN not focus at least tangentially on its miserable record? Perhaps Mr. Williams should remove his face from Mark Malloch Brown’s posterior and take a gander at some Claudia Rosette columns. He might learn a thing or two.

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June 22, 2006

Graceless Nancy

Weeks ago, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” took aim at pseudo-legal attack dog-cum-pathetic pundit Nancy Grace. At the time, Ms. Grace was disgracing herself by offering extremely unfair discussions of the Duke lacrosse scandal on her television program. Although we weren’t certain about the allegations, we excoriated Ms. Grace for her snarky, over-the-top commentary on the matter.

Since that time, as you undoubtedly know, the rape allegations against the three Duke lacrosse players have all but fallen apart. Defense lawyers have leaked the report District Attorney Mike Nifong gave to them, and it appears very clear to all but the most unhinged that, as Gertrude Stein said of Oakland, there’s no there there.

Meanwhile, Mike Nifong is in a kind of career tailspin that would make Richard Marx gasp. And that, dear friends, is saying something.

So what, we wondered, would Nancy Grace have to offer about the case now? Mind you, Ms. Grace wasn’t simply mistaken about the brouhaha. She didn’t simply take sides with the accuser. Rather, she presented what can only be called a full-frontal assault on the case.

All guests on her program who dared offer a more complex picture than the “hang ‘em high” scenario she presented were rudely interrupted and castigated. As this barking lunatic saw it, there was no need for a trial at all—someone ought to take out a weapon and just kill those lacrosse bastards. They’re white, they’re rich, they did it. Q.E.D.

Well, what a difference a few weeks, DNA tests, and a mountain of contrary evidence make. As we suspected long ago, it is highly, highly unlikely that any rape occurred, and it seems quite clear that Nancy Grace is about as useful as dehydrated water. And, we might add, she’s not exactly easy on the eyes.

It is with this in mind that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” took it upon ourselves to tune into Nancy Grace’s horrific program for the last few nights. Surely, we thought, if Ms. Grace had any, well, grace, she’d apologize for her disgusting performance in this case. After all, she wasn’t merely wrong; she was obnoxious, pig-headed, and well-nigh slanderous.

Ah, but no: Nary a mention of Duke University could be heard on her show. Instead, she seems interested in pretending as if the whole thing never happened. Duke lacrosse? What’s that?

Wow, what a class act. Perhaps Mike Nifong can get around to prosecuting her next. At least she’s guilty of something.

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June 21, 2006

Medium-Sized Shop of Horrors

The other day, dear reader, one of the junior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—had a bit of grocery shopping to do. Since he found himself in the neighborhood of the local Whole Foods market, “Chip” decided to forgo his usual grocery spot in favor of this more upscale venue.

For those of you unaware of Whole Foods—and given their emergence across the country, that shouldn’t be many of you—allow us to inform you that it’s much like your local grocery store, except with a nose ring. And a better selection of fine cheeses.

Since Whole Foods dabbles in the land of organic foodstuffs, it has a clientele that would fit right in at a Ralph Nader for president gathering or an Enya concert. As such, “Chip” had the opportunity—if that is the mot juste—to lay eyes on one of the kinds of people he avoids like the plague. Having missed the last Cindy Sheehan rally, “Chip” finally got the chance to see the homo Kucinichus in action.

And it ain’t a pretty sight. From his perusal through the Whole Foods isles, “Chip” can report that the average holier-than-thou secularist is an obnoxious cad. Throughout his perambulations, “Chip” bumped into all manner of peaceniks and brotherly-loveniks, and discovered that they aren’t much for peace and brotherly love in their private lives.

In fact, nary a Whole Foods patron could be found without a scowl prominently emblazoned on his or her unpleasant mug. If these radical utopians can’t even get along in their element, what chance does a radical utopia have?

This was amply demonstrated to “Chip” by his trip to the Whole Foods cashier. A typically scraggly fellow with abundant tattoos, this fellow first asked the typical question: “Paper of plastic?”

Yet unlike at the non-chi-chi grocery, this fellow made the query with great trepidation. As the words rolled off his tongue, he seemed jittery, and gave a great sigh of relief when “Chip” pleasantly answered “Plastic will be fine.”

Clearly, this is a guy who is used to getting ruthlessly browbeaten—if not actually beaten—for asking customers their bagging preferences. Ah, how many finger-wagging lectures about landfills and the future of the earth has this poor clerk been forced to endure!

All in all, “Chip” thought that, minus the Yoga Monthly, the Yoga Weekly, the Yoga Daily, and Nicaraguan Guru magazines at the checkout, Whole Foods is just a typical grocery store—for nasty elitist pseudo-radical dolts. The folks who inhabit such a haunt might vote for Nancy Pelosi, but they’d be pleased to run over your cat if it could get them to their Bikram class on time.

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June 20, 2006

More Objectivity from the Gray Lady

In his work The Fall, Albert Camus wrote “A single sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and read the papers.” Well, it appears as if an even simpler sentence will suffice for postmodern man: He fornicated.

As everyone in the First World knows, newspapers worldwide have seen a steady decline in readers, whilst the average age of their subscribers is now so high that Metamucil may soon take up most of their advertising space. Well, Metamucil and crematoriums.

This, we fear, has been one of the lamentable results of Al Gore’s World-Wide Web. So many people get their news—or what masquerades as news—from various e-outfits that newspapers are becoming less hip than Gary Bauer. (And that, dear friends, is saying something.)

But, before we blame the “webloggers” for this unfortunate situation, let us not forget that working journalists bear some responsibility as well. Although these fellows and ladies pass themselves off as impartial—nay, Olympian—observers of the world, they often prove slightly less than impartial.

Allow us to turn to a case in point. In the Sunday, June 18 number of The New York Times, an article on “websites” discussing terrorism appeared. Penned by one Robert F. Worth, it packages itself as a guide to various outfits discussing the modern Middle East. To this end, Mr. Worth informs us:

Journalists in Iraq are far too busy with the perils of on-the-ground reporting to sit at screens for hours browsing terrorist Internet traffic. That is why the new array of online expertise has become an essential tip sheet for them. A whole new mini-industry of instantaneous translation and analysis has arisen, and it often erodes the traditional distinctions between credentialed foreign policy analysts and mere amateurs.

So far, so good. But check out this bit of “objectivity” from Mr. Worth:

[Juan] Cole, a strong critic of the Iraq war and of the administration’s grasp of the Middle East, has inspired a range of ferocious critics. Some, like the bloggers Martin Kramer and Tony Badran, maintain at times a virtual running account of their differences with Mr. Cole, under headlines like “Making Cole-Slaw of History” and “Juan-Cology.”

Ah, yes: Completely impartial. Mr. Cole, whom Worth advertises as a professor at the University of Michigan, is a “strong critic” of the Iraq War. Mr. Kramer, whom Worth fails to advertise as a PhD in Middle Eastern Studies from Princeton and a prominent think-tanker, is a “ferocious critic” of Mr. Cole. How very fair! No tilting the deck here!

As anyone who has read Juan Cole’s “weblog” well knows, both he and his detractors are capable of nasty ad hominem attacks. Yet Mr. Worth doesn’t seem to see it that way. Rather, Mr. Cole is the unfairly targeted object of attacks.

Which leads us to wonder: Has Mr. Worth ever read Juan Cole’s “weblog”? Or is he a complete moron? We’re betting on a bit of both.

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June 19, 2006

American Soccer “Fans”

Well, dear reader, we tried. For almost a quarter of an hour, we took time out of our busy schedules and parked ourselves in front of the television for a rousing bit of soccer. As everyone else outside American knows, the FIFA World Cup is currently taking place in Germany, and we figured we’d see what the fuss was all about.

But, quite frankly, we found it simply un-viewable. In fact, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” considered it so dull that its popularity throughout the earth left us baffled. In this respect, soccer is just like Phil Collins.

We mean, come on: Here were two insignificant countries, whose young men would be better served working on their nation’s GDPs, kicking a soccer ball back and forth, standing still for long bouts of time, and generally doing nothing entertaining. All the while, the audience—which clearly loves low scores as much as it savors ties—was enraptured, howling chants and singing rousing songs.

What the heck is going on here? If the people of the world find Americans so stupid, why do they take delight in a game only slightly more pleasurable to watch than golf? Soccer hooligans can’t control themselves over this nonsense? Gosh: Soccer makes curling seem like D-Day. The enthusiasm is baffling. It defies logic.

But perhaps what particularly troubles us, dear reader, is the American contingent of soccer fans. Sure, the people of Ecuador may enjoy soccer, but, hey, it’s not as if they have much of a hockey season. (After all, when only three people in your country can afford skates, a hockey match is tough to come by.) Yet there’s simply no excuse for American soccer fans.

In fact, we’ve noted that many an American World Cup enthusiast is actually a pathetic Europhile in disguise. He may pretend to be a soccer devotee, but he’s really just attempting to seem cosmopolitan. You know: If they love it in Amsterdam, it’s got to be really chi-chi.

Naturally, these pseudo-soccer fans always look upon the object of their phony desire as quintessentially European. Never mind that folks elsewhere in the globe like soccer. After all, they think, what’s cosmopolitan about impoverished countries?

No, these ostentatious lamebrains are fake soccer fans because they think it makes them seem more like a guy named Jap van der Putten or Klaus Himmelschmitt. They’re the kinds of people who love Europe’s Formula One racing, but think Nascar is simply awful. Yeah: “Nigel Mansel” does sound a lot classier than “Ricky Rudd,” doesn’t it? You poseurs.

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June 16, 2006

A Light Friday “Post”

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are offering up this, our official Friday “post,” a bit early. If you are taking a gander at these words and it’s still Thursday, now you know why. On the other hand, if you aren’t reading this until Friday, you’ve essentially wasted your time by examining this first paragraph. Sucker.

So, you may (or, more likely, may not) be wondering what the deal is. Why are we “posting” early? Normally, we’re like clockwork: Soon as night follows day, the crack young staff “posts” five times weekly. In fact, we’re so regular that we like to think of ourselves as the Metamucil of the Internet.

Well, there’s a reason for our atypical un-timeliness. This weekend we’re enjoying something of a treat. Our deep-pocketed financial backers have deigned to send us on a little family retreat, which should allow us to take in some e-barbeque with our e-families at the local e-park.

As we said, it’s a family affair, and you can bet your bottom that we’ll be savoring all sorts of Family Values fun: Laffer curve sack races; Mr. Potatoe Head with Dan Quayle; &c. A good time will be had by all.

Unfortunately for you, dear reader, this leaves you without a Friday “post” offering up-to-date e-commentary on the latest world news. You know, like the fact that Wham! broke up. (Oh, and it turns out that George Michael is a real flamer. Who would have seen that coming? We suppose that “Choose Life” T-shirt he sported didn’t mean that he’s a card-carrying Christian fundamentalist. Maybe he just likes Life cereal?)

No, instead of our au courant ruminations, you are left with this admittedly sub-par “post” devoted to admittedly sub-par logistical matters. Not good, not good indeed.

So how can we make it up to you? Well, how about informing you that our usual Sunday Wizbang essay can already be examined here?

Yeah, we know; it ain’t Sunday yet. But, as we just informed you, we’ll be busy stuffing our faces with Jewish Lobby kosher hotdogs this weekend, and we can’t be troubled to wait for the Muses to inspire.

Accordingly, dear reader, we recommend that you head on over to Wizbang and delight in our typical sagacity. And we’ll catch up with you on Monday. Perhaps we’ll even let you know who won the kayaking.

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June 15, 2006

Another Airplane Lament

Think back to your own experiences in the aeronautical realm, and you’ll realize it’s true. On every commercial flight in the United States, there’s always one hot chick. Without fail, one suitably fetching vixen will be present to “fly the friendly skies” with you, no matter whether you want one or not.

Frankly, it’s a bit like the folks who book flights—if such creatures exist these days—have planned it out this way. A sort of mental check list for each trip, perhaps: Crying baby? Check. Dimwits who must use the lavatory three times during a 12-minute flight? Check. Total babe? Check.

Maybe it’s the corollary to the “There’s one born every minute” line: There’s one gorgeous lady per flight.

One of the junior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—had reason to reflect upon this whilst caught in a dank, fetid, overheated gate at the local airport. Ever the jetsetter, “Chip” would soon be off for yet another business meeting with literary bigwigs, and thus he sat in volation purgatory, awaiting the pre-boarding of his aircraft.

And, as always, in the very same waiting area sat one—count her: One—pulchritudinous gal. Although she was probably set for a trip to compel her wealthy boyfriend to pay for something obscenely expensive or other, “Chip” thought that she might very well be single.

(We know what you’re thinking, dear reader: Yeah, right. Hot chicks aren’t dating for the roughly two minutes in between each rich, aggressive boyfriend. But a fellow can have his dreams, can’t he?)

Accordingly, and again as always, “Chip” hoped that this aesthetically pleasing lass would be assigned the seat next to his. The kind of hope that one normally offers on flights to ward off terrorists.

When the boarding began, however, it turned out that this beauteous wench sat far away from “Chip.” For some reason, “Chip” always has this kind of luck. And we mean always: After more time in the air than John Glenn, “Chip” can count all the times he’s sat next to the hot chick on no fingers.

Instead, “Chip’s” delightful companion was a kind yet obscenely obese woman. Without even putting forward an effort, this roly-poly lady took up her own seat, much of “Chip’s,” and much of the aisle, to boot. Ah, this was going to be a relaxing flight.

As if by magic, this woman—who slept through almost the entire flight—woke up exactly as the snack cart made its way to her row. After all, she can’t miss a few packs of honey-roasted peanuts, now can she?

So, rather than impress the comely vixen far away with tales of penury and “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” “Chip” found himself wedged between an outsized woman’s outsized can and the can. As Rod Stewart once warbled, some guys have all the luck.

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June 14, 2006

An Intriguing Solipsism

The front-page, above-the-fold story in the June 13 number of The New York Times shouldn’t surprise anyone who isn’t an anti-Israel propagandist; “Violence Erupts among Factions of Palestinians: Parliament Is Set Ablaze,” reads the piece’s headline. Ah: Violence in Palestine—who would have seen that coming? Not Robert Fisk, but everyone else on God’s green earth.

But the article, penned by Steven Erlanger, contains an interesting solipsism that may shed more light on matters than the Gray Lady intended. The second paragraph reads:

The attack by forces from the Fatah faction loyal to Mr. Abbas, who fired bullets at the buildings and set them on fire, came after Hamas gunmen attacked the Gaza headquarters of the Fatah-dominated security forces with rockets and grenades.

Perhaps you missed the error. As it reads now, the relative “who” can only refer to Mr. Abbas. Thus Mr. Erlanger is (unwittingly) suggesting that Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas personally “fired bullets at the buildings and set them on fire.”

Clearly, the Paper of Record meant “which,” referring to the “forces from the Fatah faction.” A small gaffe, perhaps, but intriguing nonetheless.

Now, let it be said that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” don’t put it past Mr. Abbas to shoot guns and set buildings ablaze. After all, he’s the leader of a group of people not exactly known for the pacifism that so many of their American supporters pretend to champion.

Still, Mr. Abbas has curiously emerged as a kind of Palestinian Good Guy by Default. That is to say, he’s hunky dory merely because he’s not as murderously unhinged as the loveable scamps in Hamas.

Ah, the joys of Palestinian power struggles, according to which a fellow who wrote a dissertation devoted to Holocaust denial can be fingered as the “moderate.” Pretty nice, eh?

And this gets us—meanderingly, we’ll admit—to the intriguing quality of the Paper of Record’s mistake. Finally, as the result of a grammatical misstep, the mainstream media have put blame where blame is due.

By which we mean, they finally admit that Mr. Abbas bears some responsibility for the violence among his people. He is not—as many Palestinian apologists would have it—doing his best to rein in terrorism. As such, in some way he is personally responsible for the carnage in Israel-Palestine.

O, if only the Times could make such a useful error in the future! Perhaps they’ll actually label Hamas a terrorist organization by mistake?

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June 13, 2006

Carlos Mencia

Normally, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are loath to take aim at comedians. After all, unimpressed readers of this “weblog” may respond: “Hey, at least the comedian you excoriate is funny, unlike you.” Or words to that effect.

As such, it is with some trepidation that we discuss the subject of today’s humble “post.” Yet we felt as if we simply had to say something about purported funnyman Carlos Mencia. We’ve seen a few episodes of his Comedy Central vehicle “Mind of Mencia,” and that’s been way too many for us. In fact, Mr. Mencia has really begun to annoy us, and we need to take him down a peg. Or two, depending on how high he’s climbed.

First, from his noxious appearances on “The Big Picture” (and small audience) with Donny Deutch, it is clear that Mr. Mencia perceives that he is something of a trailblazer. He thinks he’s a unique figure in contemporary comedy, and he can both make you laugh and make you learn.

In fact, however, Mr. Mencia seems to offer nothing but unfunny retreads of racial routines Don Rickles offered 30 years ago. Except Don Rickles is actually humorous and has more guts.

We mean, come on: How does harping on the stereotypical attributes of different racial groups amount to cutting-edge humor? The only thing older than that are knock-knock jokes, for crying out loud.

What’s more, Mr. Mencia clearly gets a pass for making numerous derogatory references to minority groups because he himself is of Latino ancestry. He lulls the audience into enjoying negative portrayals of, say, blacks and Asians by also lampooning his own people.

And that, we think, is cheap; it’s the politically correct way to be politically incorrect. In short, Mr. Mencia possesses all of Andrew Dice Clay’s sophistication without any of his balls.

But what most irks us about Mr. Mencia is that he packages his stale brand of stereotype-based humor as a harbinger of racial comity. As unappealing as his “Asians have small eyes” jokes may be, Mr. Mencia advertises them as the quintessence of can’t-we-all-just-get-along multicultural bliss.

It is this, and not his unfunny Don Rickles knock-offs, that we find offensive. Sure, tell racial gags for oodles of cash, if you can get away with it. But stop pretending that there’s something high-minded about this schlock. It’s just racial humor; it’s neither novel nor good-natured. You may have lots of money and success, Mr. Mencia, but let’s try to remember where you are on the comedic food chain.

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June 12, 2006

Riding a Cycle of Violence into the Sunset

As e-proprietors of a “weblog” called “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” we are naturally irked by many things. And this includes, of course, locutions; various hip words and neologisms trouble us, sometimes deeply.

For instance, there are the following: “Diversity”; “a teachable moment”; “Billy Joel.” Any sane person (read: Non-academic) should feel his skin crawl upon hearing such ugly words. (Apparently Christie Brinkley wasn’t that sane in the 80’s.)

But surely one of the most wretched and overused phrases these days comes from the mouths and keyboards of sanctimonious journalists and talking heads. We refer to the ridiculous locution “cycle of violence.”

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” respectfully request that this pathetic phrase be struck from all people’s vocabulary. Not only is it a deceptive little bugger, but also it is almost always used inappropriately, to discuss situations for which “cycle of violence” does not at all fit.

The other day, in fact, we saw a report in The Wall Street Journal discussing the “cycle of violence” in Iraq. This is exactly wrong. It’s employed as if the violence would immediately cease if the allied forces weren’t so bent on capturing terrorists. Ah, yes: Once America hands over Iraq to various terrorist outfits, Iraq should see true peace.

What moron would believe this? What moron would so characterize the delicate situation in Iraq? Apparently, the answer to that query is: The Wall Street Journal.

And let’s not forget the incessant use of “cycle of violence” for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Indeed, if the Israelis did not respond to Palestinian terrorism, the so-called “cycle of violence” would end—after the Palestinians murdered millions of Jews. Which, we suppose, is exactly what those Americans unaligned with the “Jewish Lobby” desire.

If you ask us, a better phrase for the Israeli-Palestinian situation would be “unicycle of violence”: You’ve got one people (those peaceable Palestinians) hell-bent on violence, and the violence would cease if they stopped it.

Further, we suppose we should note that the very phrase “cycle of violence” has a sickeningly condescending air to it: It’s the perfect hippie locution—both peacenik and holier-than-thou. The deluded fellow misusing the phrase gets to simmer in his own righteousness, as if he were not merely reporting the news, but offering a greater understanding of it than those dimwitted people who are foolishly trying to target terrorists.

For these reasons, dear reader, we believe that anyone employing “cycle of violence” would be better suited to ride said cycle out of American discourse. And take “diversity” with you, if you’ll be so kind.

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June 09, 2006

An Interesting Rumination on the Nature of Life Via the “Spam” File

Like anyone with an e-mail account, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” receive all manner of so-called “spam” e-missives. Usually, these e-blights offer dubious stock tips or promise the sight of “sightly [sic] Russian teens giving spectacular bloowjob [sic].”

An unsavory bunch of messages, to be sure. As a result, we delete these e-eyesores without even troubling ourselves to look at them. After all these months on Al Gore’s Internet, the only thing we’ve learned from “spam” is that very few men appear to have working equipment these days. And those guys seem to know a lot of Russian chicks.

Even so, every once in a Harold Bloom moon, we find ourselves on the receiving end of an epistle that most surely qualifies as “spam” and yet is far more intriguing than the garden-variety advert for under-the-counter Levitra.

One such e-letter reached our “spam” file the other day, and we found it suitably curious to deserve some comment. Sent by the apocryphally named Glenda Colvon, its title reads: “Life is a sexually transmitted disease, and it’s 100% fatal.”

A strange introductory line, is it not? In fact, it seems to be in sharp contrast with a sentiment we learned from being subjected to horrid 1990s pop music: “Life is a highway; I want to ride it all night long.”

Indeed: Ms. Colvon’s message is downright pessimistic by comparison. According to her, life isn’t merely paying taxes and awaiting death. Nay, the whole thing’s just one STD. To alter Descartes (albeit slightly): I have syphilis, therefore I am.

And what, you may reasonably ask, is the purpose of Ms. Colvon’s strange example of “spam”? Why, to sell generic Viagra.

Yep, that’s right: After informing us that we’re all just one big Magic Johnson, Glenda hits us up for some erection pills. Now, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” aren’t advertising experts; even our Official Advertising Department majored in sociology.

But, come on: You’re going to have to start with a better pitch than that to get us itching for some penis tablets. Even a picture of Janet Reno would get us more in the mood.

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June 08, 2006

We’re Under Attack!

As was reported throughout the “weblogosphere,” the Mu.Nu server was under attack by a group of hackers. Well, at least by one hacker. But we’re sure that he’s really e-vicious. The kind of character you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark chat room.

In these trying times, dear reader, we want to answer a few questions for our concerned fans. First, we want you to know that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are doing fine. No one is hurt—except Ted, and he’s been nursing that groin pull for weeks now.

Also, we must inform you that we shall not bow to the demands of these hackers, whatever those demands may be. If you ask us—and, technically speaking, you did not—going along with the wishes of such thugs tells the e-terrorists that they have won.

So, sorry, hackers. Regardless of your desperate (albeit technically adroit) attempt to silence us, we shall survive. In fact, this is one of the things that makes us so like Gloria Gaynor. Well, other than the afros.

Five days a week, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” will deliver our moronic brand of pseudo-humor, hackers be darned. It’s going to take a lot more than one server attack to knock us off of Al Gore’s World-Wide Web. (And no, unlike President Bush, we aren’t going to exhort the e-terrorists to “bring it on.” That would be unbecoming.)

We should also inform you that the attack has left us wondering about a few things. Most importantly, we are ruminating about the fact that as impressive an e-eminence as Glenn Reynolds, Al Gore’s famed Instapundit, mentioned the awful attack on his popular “weblog.”

More specifically, this led us to wonder: How can Glenn Reynolds be so darned concerned about Mu.Nu if he’s studiously—and incessantly—ignored every polite e-mail we’ve sent him about our own humble “weblog”? For over two years, dear reader, we’ve delivered a number of quaint e-missives informing Mr. Reynolds about our shenanigans on the World-Wide Web. And you can count his responses on no fingers.

Now, however, as the victims of an e-terrorist attack, Mr. Reynolds will likely be comin’ a-crawlin’ to us. He must be thinking: “How are you, crack young staff? Is everything okay?” Or words to that effect.

Well, heck no, Reynolds. We’re not giving our exclusive story of surviving e-terrorism against the odds to the likes of you. No, sir: We’re giving the scoop to this good fellow with the bejeweled, floppy hat. We know who our real friends are. How do you like ‘dem apples?

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June 07, 2006

Ah, That Old New Republic

One of the great joys of the week is reading The New Republic, our favorite reasonable left-wing rag. Or, we should say it’s one of the great joys of the week or so, since its erratic appearance in our mailbox makes it impossible to determine its precise publication schedule.

And what, dear reader, isn’t to love about The New Republic? In every issue, readers can savor Peter Beinart’s typical “I’ve-read-one-article-by-a-conservative-and-didn’t-like-it” piece and Leon Wieseltier’s crabby pseudo-arguments. Also, we would be remiss if we failed to mention that fact that The New Republic has some of the worst graphic design the magazine industry has ever seen.

But, come on: There’s some good to be found in TNR. Martin Peretz and Yossi Klein Halevi offer dependably strong pieces, and some of the best liberal commentary can be found in its pages.

Which is why, dear reader, we were appalled to read a mind-numbingly obtuse passage in the June 5 & 12 number of the magazine. In said issue, Noam Scheiber presents an interesting piece on changes in the culture of the Central Intelligence Agency, entitled “Speak Easy: The CIA Cracks its Code of Silence.”

Yet in the midst of his otherwise inoffensive article, Mr. Scheiber offers a real howler. In order to counter the charge that “the recent deluge of CIA criticism” of the Bush administration can be chalked up the ideological cast of Langley itself, Mr. Scheiber writes:

…that’s simply not the case. In fact, while the early, Ivy-dominated CIA really was a bastion of liberalism (albeit one tempered by devout anti-communism), the demographics of the Agency shifted dramatically between the late ‘60s and the late ‘70s….Increasingly, the CIA has been populated by a kind of nonideological moderate—a figure too square to be caught up in any countercultural zeitgeist, and not so ambitious as to frown on a government payscale.

So what’s Mr. Scheiber’s proof for his assertion? Why, let’s allow him to continue:

”I was raised by a Marine, educated by Jesuits all my life,” says [former CIA analyst Michael] Scheuer. Probably the easiest way to summarize the reigning worldview within the CIA these days is pragmatic, heavily empirical, and tending toward foreign policy realism.

Aha: So the fact that Michael Scheuer was educated by Jesuits amounts to the entirety of Noam Scheiber’s proof. This is as dumb as dumb can get.

Perhaps Mr. Scheiber should become more acquainted with the maniacal ravings of Michael Scheuer—his poster boy for the non-ideological CIA.

As we never tire of repeating, Mr. Scheuer, terrorism analyst for CBS News and author of the misguided polemic Imperial Hubris, is a lunatic whose writings positively reek of ideology. Mr. Scheuer has praised Osama bin Laden as possessing “admirable character traits,” and believes that only American foreign policy and Israel’s existence are to blame for Islamofascist terrorism.

Need we remind Mr. Scheiber that Michael Scheuer infamously claimed that the American Holocaust Museum is an example of insidious Zionist propaganda? Come on, Mr. Scheiber.

Michael Scheuer is many things—for example, a myopic former analyst with anti-Semitic leanings and a creepy crush on Osama bin Laden. But he is most assuredly not a non-ideological moderate, no matter how many years of Jesuit training he experienced. You would have thought that the pro-Israel New Republic would have recognized that.

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June 06, 2006

A Proposition for Hot Teachers

Okay, here’s something that’s ticked us off for a long time. Every few weeks, it seems, the media get all worked up about another hot middle-school teacher who’s screwing her fourteen-year-old student. For some reason or other, this gorgeous female pedagogue simply loves her little adolescent; she’s never met anyone who rocks her world quite like this worldly teenager.

What gives? If you ask us, this whole situation makes no sense. What’s more, it is downright enraging.

And this is not, mind you, merely a male point of view. As longtime readers of this humble “weblog” well know, around 47 percent of the crack young staff is female, and the distaff staffers are equally miffed that these attractive lasses go for the inappropriately underaged.

It’s just bizarre. As much as contemporary feminists hate to admit it, good-looking women are treated like royalty in this country. In fact, that’s why other women become contemporary feminists: They yearn to get back at men for considering them less-than-comely. If you ask us, we inhabit a matriarchy—a matriarchy run by the young and attractive.

Accordingly, hot schoolteachers cavorting with lil’ kiddies is mind-boggling. Who in his (or her) right mind would suggest that such vixens couldn’t find suitable dating partners? Most women with one leg and a kickstand can find some doting slob, for crying out loud.

So why are these femme fatales troubling themselves with such jailbait? If our estimation of women is correct, these fetching lasses should be hunting down a disgustingly wealthy husband, so that she can divorce him and take all his money before her looks start to fade.

But we didn’t compose this “post” merely to offer the typical ruminations of skeptical guys and unappealing women. (Although, as you can see, that was part of the point.) Rather, we have a proposition to make.

If you, dear reader, are a hot middle school or high school teacher about to begin a relationship with one of your pupils, we humbly suggest that head over to the Hatemonger’s Quarterly Headquarters and date one of the crack young staffers instead. Admittedly, it’s not necessarily a very appetizing option: All of the male staffers are bald and all of the females are grad students, and therefore ugly: QED.

But think of all the benefits. From nearly a minute of brainstorming, we came up with the following list of impressive perquisites:

The Official List of Perquisites for Hot Middle-School Teachers Dating Crack Young Staffers Instead of Their Teen-Aged Pupils:

1) You won’t be arrested.

2) Bill O’Reilly won’t devote a segment of his television program to making ego-withering commentary about you.

3) You can have conversations with your significant other that go past the level of “Yeah, Coldplay is totally pimp.”

4) Being seen in public with your new date is at least slightly less embarrassing.

5) After dinner out on the town, you can go to his place or yours.

Admittedly, dear reader, dating a crack young staffer—unlike dating your twelve-year-old student—isn’t going to land you a spot on “Larry King Live.” But who under 145 watches that show?

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June 05, 2006

When Is a Note of Congratulations Not a Note of Congratulations?

Recently, one of the junior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—browsed through the latest number of The New York Times, in search of all the news that’s fit to mangle. Searching in the beloved arts section of the May 22 issue of the Gray Lady, among pieces with titles such as “Dystopia, Windows, Da Vinci and Sex,” he happened upon a curious advertisement.

As you might well imagine, “Chip” doesn’t take the Paper of Record’s art section very seriously. For every discussion of, say, James Levine, one finds three on, say, Eminem. Or five on how one illiterate rock star is superior to another illiterate rock star.

And then there’s the matter of their whitewashing of the Danish Muhammad cartoons: The Gray Lady’s arts section can print all manner of desecrations of Jesus, but depictions of Muhammad are apparently beyond the pale. According to some experts, the Times offers the perfect blend of pusillanimity and political correctness.

Yet the ad in question struck us as sufficiently interesting that it stuck out even amongst the usual detritus that besmirches the arts columns.

The advert in question reads as follows:



on receiving the 2006 PEN/Nabakov Award

for a “body of work…of enduring originality and consummate craftsmanship.”

Taking in this ad, “Chip” first thought: Oh, Philip Roth has won a lifetime literary award. Isn’t that nice. Although his latest novel is supposed to be a clunker, Portnoy’s Complaint was quite good. And, hey: At least the award didn’t go to some left-wing politicized hack or Italian terrorist. Take that, Toni Morrison.

Then a very obvious realization struck “Chip.” Houghton Mifflin isn’t really congratulating Philip Roth. After all, if they wanted to offer him some kind words, there’s no reason why they couldn’t just send him a letter. They’re his publisher, for crying out loud. They must have his telephone number somewhere.

Rather—and rather obviously—Houghton Mifflin is congratulating itself and attempting to drum up some book sales by pretending to congratulate Philip Roth. This isn’t exactly a surprising thing to do, but it struck “Chip” as so smarmy that it made him wonder. How can Houghton Mifflin get away with such an obvious demonstration of bad faith?

We mean, come on: Whom does Houghton Mifflin think they’re fooling? Who would actually believe that they have eschewed their normal concern for advertising and spent a bundle on a selfless demonstration of congratulations to Philip Roth? They’d applaud the doofus who wrote The Devil Wears Prada, or some other piece of chick-lit palaver, if it would help their bottom line.

It is in a similar spirit, then, that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” present our own latest advertisement:


"CHIP" , Senior Editor of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”

for realizing that Houghton Mifflin’s hearty congratulations is a phony attempt to boost sales, and that they don’t really care if Philip Roth writes impressive novels of intellectual depth and clarity or child pornography.

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June 02, 2006

Hamas’ Definition of “Aggression”

Imagine the following hypothetical scenario, dear reader. Numerous groups of Mexican terrorists—whom the mainstream media deem “militants”—routinely fire rockets into the southern United States as part of an effort to de-legitimize Texas and compel Americans to give the second-largest state back to Mexico. The Mexican government, meanwhile, is in league with these terrorists, and thus won’t stop them.

Now, here’s the question: Exactly how long would it take the United States to put a stop to this? In how many minutes would the US Army take to northern Mexico to kill and/or capture these brutes? If you ask us, the answer is: Faster than you can say “burrito.”

In addition, we firmly believe that no one in his right mind would consider a targeted strike at such hypothetical Mexican terrorists tantamount to “aggression.” But, naturally, no one in his right mind believes that the lovable scamps in Hamas are in their right mind.

For, as we found out from our pals at The New York Times a scenario somewhat similar to our silly Mexican terrorist idea is occurring in the Gaza Strip. You remember the Gaza Strip: It’s the part of the Palestinian territories that Israel has returned to the Palestinians, even though Arab propagandists still call it part of the Occupied Territories.

And, as you would expect from those peaceable Palestinians, the inhabitants of Gaza, in addition to engaging in various acts of proto-civil war, regularly launch rockets into Israel in an effort to destroy the Jewish state. Those delightful characters in Professor Sami Al-Arian’s Palestinian Islamic Jihad enjoy using their newly won territory as a base to wipe Israel off the map.

Naturally, the folks in Hamas won’t put a stop to such machinations. As a result, Greg Myre from the Gray Lady reports:

Israeli ground troops staged their first major operation inside the Gaza Strip since pulling out of the coastal territory last year, ambushing Palestinians late Monday evening as they prepared to fire a rocket, the Israeli military said Tuesday.

So what, you might be wondering, was the reaction of the fellahs in charge of Palestine? Here’s what Andrew Sullivan—in his “weblogging” life and his personal life—would call the “money shot”:

The Palestinian prime minister, Ismail Haniya, condemned “the Israeli policy of aggression against our people.”

Gee: That takes an awful lot of chutzpah, if you ask us. How dare the Israelis stop rockets from killing their people! Why, the nerve of them!

In fact, this argument is so appalling, we sincerely wonder if Prime Minister Haniya could offer it with a straight face. Sure, it’s part of an old Palestinian script: Whatever evil thing you have done, blame America and Israel.

But, God, how could he condemn Israel’s action as “aggression” without cracking a smile?

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June 01, 2006

Enlightened Ruminations on the “Citizenally Challenged”

Readers of this humble “weblog” may well have noticed that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have not discussed the recent political firestorm surrounding illegal immigration. In itself, this is odd: We’re not the types of folk who shy away from hard-hitting issues. Why, we’ve even tackled such incendiary topics as the word “moist.”

Yet, to be honest, dear reader, we haven’t felt particularly inspired to dilate on illegal immigration. We suppose we don’t feel very strongly about it, and informal polling around the office water cooler suggests that most of us find ourselves in the squishy middle on this issue.

And yet a recent article on illegal immigration in the May 1 number of Britain’s left-leaning New Statesman got us sufficiently worked up, and we feel we must take a poke at the subject. Penned by one Andrew Stephen—whose name reads like a rather uninspired porn star’s nom de guerre—the article is curiously titled “The Latino Giant Awakes.”

The Latino Giant? Has Mr. Stephen (or is that Mr. Andrew?) ever seen any Latinos? They’re not exactly known for their gigantic size.

Anyway, the sub-header of the article pretty much sums up its author’s modus scribendi: “The new political and economic power of Hispanic immigrants is fuelling an ugly mood of racism in America, where ‘illegals’ are accused of taking healthcare, jobs and housing.”

We particularly savored the use of scare-quotes around the word illegals, as if it were merely a meaningless term. Mr. Stephen explains: “…there is an ugly mood of racism sweeping this country in which the casually brutal word ‘illegal’ is used as a noun, even by the most enlightened, to describe fellow human beings who live and work here but do not have the documentation to do so legally.”

Uh, gee, Mr. Enlightened: What do you propose we call those who live here illegally? What kind of politically-correct moniker can you drum up? How about “citizenally challenged”? Or how does “differently citizened” grab you? You stupid dolt.

Basically, Mr. Stephen uses the issue of illegal immigration to demonstrate that America is a country chock-a-block with racists. More to the point, Mr. Stephen opines that America’s treatment of the “citizenally challenged” is far worse than anything the Brits would concoct.

According to Mr. Stephen: “Nor is there any good reason why America cannot take a limitless number of…immigrants for the foreseeable future: it is a land so huge that there are still only 30 people on average living in each square kilometre, compared with 243 for (say) Britain.” Ah, you see: Americans are odious racists, and the Limeys are not.

We hate to ruin Mr. Stephen’s well thought out people-per-square-kilometer thesis, but we have the sneaking suspicion that the issue of illegal immigration is a bit more complicated than the number of people you can fit in rural Idaho. There’s this little matter of the economy, Mr. Stephen, and although New Statesman leftists such as yourself don’t know much about it, it winds up being kind of important.

Anyone with a modicum of economic sense wouldn’t write this sentence, Mr. Stephen: “Illegal workers, after all, are needed to do jobs that Americans spurn: housecleaning, fruit-picking, and looking after rich white brats.” No, no, Mr. Stephen: Americans don’t want to do these jobs at ridiculously low wages. If the pay increased, US citizens would be glad to do them.

But, hey, Mr. Stephen, you must be really proud of using a left-wing platform to advance the interests of corporate fat-cats who’ll pay your beloved illegals starvation wages.

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