A Moment of E-Humility

Rapier wit. This, dear reader, is the reason you turn each day to enjoy the humble musings on this “weblog.” After all, a few perambulations around Al Gore’s World-Wide Web more than demonstrates that the Internet—though an ingenious system of tubes—is more than a bit lacking in the rapier wit department.

But us? Heck, we’ve got rapier wit in spades. In fact, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are so chock-a-block with rapier wit that we even have a bit to spare—which we’ll gladly sell to you for a few bucks or a handful of blonde jokes.

Ah, yes: Life is good here in the “weblogosphere.” It’s now turning to that storied time of the year: The lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer will soon be behind us and droves of you have headed back to your desks, eagerly inspecting the Internet.

Accordingly, dear reader, we here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” are experiencing our typical late summer up-tick in “hits.” Whereas we used to have a few readers, now we have a few plus a couple more. Not too shabby, eh?

As you might well imagine, this sudden burst of e-popularity has kind of gone to our collective heads. Hence the whole “rapier wit” thing, which, quite frankly, would be a bit snotty if it weren’t so inept and inapt.

Still, it’s hard to be humble. Take it from Donald Trump. Or, if you prefer, take it from Donald Trump’s hairdresser. Or even Don King’s hairdresser. When you’re hot, you’re hot.

But we would be remiss if we gave you the impression that we have made the big-time. We’re no Glenn Reynolds, Arianna Huffington, or Charles Johnson. In fact, we can’t even get celebrity “webloggers” to cover for us—thanks a lot, Alec Baldwin—unless you count this fetching fellow.

What’s more, a few moments of deep thought about Al Gore’s World-Wide Web will cure even the most obnoxious “weblogging” egotist. Just think about it: No matter how many “hits” our storied “weblog” receives, it will never come close to topping the figures for the average pornographic “website.”

In fact, our “hits” will probably go up, merely because we used the words “figures” and “pornographic” in close proximity, thus enabling rather esoteric horn-balls to Google us up in the vain hope that they’ll turn to our “weblog” and see Bette Midler naked. It’s sad, but it’s true.

We’d wager that even “websites” devoted to really obscure pornographic topics rake in more “hits” than the pathetic “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” musters. You know, like cat-on-cow action. Or Andy Dick on Ted Danson. Or a Commadore Vic-20 on Heath Ledger.

Gee, we’d pay for that.

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The Prole Stamp

One of the senior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—recently joined a new gymnasium. As you might well imagine, dear reader, this has compelled “Chip” to endure all manner of indignities.

First and foremost, this particular “work-out” establishment prefers a brand of future “classic rock” to irritate its patrons. Or, we suppose, to irritate “Chip.” You know the sort of stuff we mean: Green Day; Oasis; Pearl Jam. In a word, crap. But crap that suits the working-class homophobes who frequent the gym in question.

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” would be remiss if we failed to mention another irksome phenomenon related to “Chip’s” new “work-out” facility. In the title of this humble “post,” we refer to it as the “prole stamp,” but we suppose we ought to explain it more clearly. We refer, dear reader, to the barbed wire tattoo.

You know the barbed wire tattoo. It seems as if every gym-frequenting proletarian male under the age of 55 must sport one. It’s in the handbook, we suppose.

In essence, the barbed wire tattoo serves as part of the American townie official uniform. Fake tan? Check. Backward baseball cap? Check. Barbed wire tattoo? Check. Old Ford Mustang? Check. Bad credit rating? Check.

Nothing screams “class” quite like a barbed wire tattoo, does it? As far as the females in said gymnasium are concerned, this appears to be the case. It’s as if the barbed wire tattoo acts as an Unofficial Townie Chick Magnet, luring in all the gals with teased hair and too much makeup within a given radius. “Oh my God. That’s, like, such a, like, wicked awesome tattoo!”

To be quite honest, dear reader, we find this all curious. In our book, the barbed wire tattoo signals underachievement.

Now, we’re fully willing to admit that this is a mere generalization: We’re certain that some barbed wire tattoo wearer is a heart surgeon, a dean at Yale, or secretary of state. (Perhaps all three—the resourceful goomba.) But we’d wager that the typical man sporting a barbed wire tattoo is highly likely to be the sort of uncouth low- to medium-income slob most women would choose to ignore.

Well, color us wrong. Girls, in their infinite wisdom, love the barbed wire tattoo. Just ask your friends Donna, Tiffany, and Heather.

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E-Comments Are Stupid, Reason #45,672

As regular readers of this humble “weblog” well know, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” compose a weekly essay for the big-time “website” Wizbang. This gig offers us the opportunity to pontificate to a larger group of folks than usually travel to our staid digs on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web.

It also provides readers the ability to supply something missing from our own humble “website”: Wizbang, unlike “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” allows its readers to present e-comments on its “posts.” Hence our Sunday animadversions on Wizbang receive all manner of snarky, foolish, and grammatically-challenged commentary.

Now, every once in a while, dear reader, someone or other sends us an e-mail lamenting the lack of e-comments on “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” “website.” “You should allow us to speak our minds about your ‘posts,’” they argue (minus the inverted commas). Or words to that effect.

In response to such demands, we occasionally savor presenting our readers with particularly inane examples of reader comments from our Wizbang “posts,” which ably demonstrate what “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” is missing due to its ruthless (we wonder where Ruth is) No Comments Policy.

And the other day we were provided with a stellar exemplum. On Sunday, dear reader, we composed a hum-drum essay for Wizbang entitled “Extreme Opinions, Extreme Ignorance.” As a result of our efforts, we were bestowed with this little bit of e-genius from a reader (ironically) calling himself “civil behavior”:

The Maliki government is falling apart.

It mimics our own.

Both are infected with religious fundamentalists both in power and waiting in the wings to substitute the role of religion for the rule of law.

Both have a tenous [sic] hold on national security and give false reasons for using war as a means of obtaining such.

And the Hatemonger's Quarterly gang thinks they have the answers to both countries by advocating for more testosterone based [sic] antics. We all can see how far that's gotten us already.

Talk about extreme opinions, extreme ignorance.

Foolish stupid [sic] Americanos.

Pretty compelling, is it not? It’s nice to know that the US government is—just like Iraq’s fledgling democracy—“falling apart.” We’ll collectively hold our breath until some totalitarian police state takes the place of our teetering republic.

It also seems entirely reasonable to argue that America’s religious fundamentalists—Christian and not Muslim, naturally—pine to destroy the rule of law in the name of theocracy. We’ll also collectively hold our breath until that winds up happening too.

For some reason, the dunderheaded “civil behavior” doesn’t realize that he just made an argument in favor of a continued American military presence in Iraq—which was the very thing for which he criticized us. After all, since religious fundamentalists pine to destroy Iraq, it seems prudent to stay there and remove this threat. That is to say, to remove the threat of al Qaeda in Iraq and kindred terrorist groups.

But, hey: Don’t listen to us. We, in the inimitable words of “civil behavior,” are “foolish stupid [sic] Americanos.” Unlike “civil behavior,” we understand how to use commas. Yet perhaps that’s just part of our idiocy.

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The Days of Study Sessions, Inebriation, and Coercive Virtue

Ah, the happiest time of the year is upon us, dear reader. Soon our little kiddies will return to their four-year entertainment camps, which are better known as colleges and universities. Can’t you just smell the academic papers on transgender Chicana bouncers? (Furthermore, can’t you smell the transgender Chicana bouncers?)

Yep, the school year is about to start up afresh, and this means a return to all the inanities of academe. Dipsomania; acquaintance rape; fashionably vacuous left-wing faculty pontifications on all and sundry—these are just a few things that await your little Thomas and Jennifer in the coming semester.

But we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” particularly savor one bit of the early college experience. We refer, of course, to freshman (excuse us, freshwomyn) orientation.

If you ask us—and, technically speaking, you did not—freshperson orientation is the best example of the secular coercing of virtue that exists. Those happy leftists in charge of America’s myriad freshperson orientations tend to proselytize so wholeheartedly that they would put Pat Robertson to shame.

Now, we’re prepared to admit that not all freshpeople orientations are tantamount to Green Party powwows. Further, we’d wager that some administrators use their respective orientations to get across some important information, about, say, dipsomania and acquaintance rape.

Yet anecdotal evidence suggests that these sessions routinely degenerate into unpleasant political rallies, which the attendees did not aim to attend. After all, when you step foot on a college campus for the first time in your life, you normally don’t pine to discuss the United States’ horrid history of brutal oppression and the theories of Michel Foucault.

In addition, you likely also don’t pine to line up according to skin tone and make vulgar pronouncements about your own “privilege.” If we know college students at all, they’d probably prefer to go drinking instead.

But, hey: At least orientation allows students to recognize that those who call themselves liberal are actually quite interested in forcing their worldview on others. It won’t be the last time they learn that, of course, but it never hurts to notice it.

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Apartheid as Far as the Eye Can See

Those hip to current arguments about the Middle East are undoubtedly aware of one of the most rancid and dubious tactics of the anti-Israel fanatics. We refer, of course, to likening Israel to Apartheid South Africa.

Although, in a reasonable universe, one might think that such disingenuousness would be confined to no-name crazies, alas it is not. After all, as great an eminence as former President Jimmy Carter has used the A-word when referring to the Jewish state. That means, of course, that both no-name crazies and named crazies have viciously bandied about the Apartheid charge.

Naturally, anyone with even the slightest semblance of gray matter recognizes how absurd and inapt is the labeling of Israel an Apartheid nation. In Israel, of course, non-Jews have the same rights as Jews—and possess far more rights than do Muslims in the countries that surround Israel. The Jewish state, for example, elects Muslim members of Knesset—something you don’t see happening in Saudi Arabia or Syria, now do you?

Further, the anti-Israel nutters who mindlessly charge that Zionism is tantamount to Apartheid routinely defend Muslim regimes that are deeply anti-Jewish and anti-Christian. One can’t even bring a Bible into Saudi Arabia, for crying out loud. But you don’t see the Muslim apologists discussing that.

Since hurling the charge of Apartheid state at Israel is so manifestly nonsensical, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” figured that we could help our radical anti-Zionist crazies by making a few equally stupid comparisons. Heck, if you’re willing to believe that Israel’s existence is tantamount to plumping for Apartheid, you’ll pretty much believe anything.

So, how about these delightful charges?

Apartheid Is Like… A List of Things Moronically Unlike Apartheid by the Crack Young Staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”

1) Apartheid is like Twinkies. Both have a white creamy filling.
2) Apartheid is like Journey’s power ballad “Faithfully.” They’re both bad.
3) Apartheid is like Cynthia McKinney. Both are unfair to blacks.
4) Apartheid is like Paris Hilton. They’re both stupid.
5) Apartheid is like Vincent van Gough. Both are of Dutch origin.

Well, that’s a pretty savory list of other ostensibly Apartheid-like things and people. We wonder when Jimmy Carter will compose his ridiculous screed entitled Twinkies: Peace Not Apartheid.

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The Unsurprising Horrors of the DMV

If we recall correctly, Marge Simpson’s sisters—Selma and Thelma Bouvier—work at the local Springfield Department of Motor Vehicles. Naturally, the writers for “The Simpsons” have chosen this as the Bouvier sisters’ occupations because it well fits their unpleasant dispositions.

As a result, it will come without much surprise to anyone to learn that the Department of Motor Vehicles—or the Registry of Motor Vehicles—is a horrible, horrible place. Which DMV, you ask? Why, any of them. Any one of them in these here United States of America. And in other countries, we’d wager, though we’re merely making an educated guess.

To inform you, then, that one of the senior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—recently had a bad experience at the local DMV isn’t exactly a shock. It’s par for the course.

Even so, this experience left him so scarred that he simply must discuss it. We know you’ve probably heard worse DMV stories, dear reader, but this one will just add fuel to the fire. Frankly, someone needs to burn these darn DMVs to the ground. If only the Islamist terrorists would attack unoccupied DMVs, we might all be able to see eye to eye.

Anyway, on with the tale of woe. As the result of a recent offer to accept an editorial gig at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” “Chip” found himself moving across state lines to live closer to Hatemonger’s Headquarters. Hence he required a new driver’s license for his new state.

And hence he found himself at the local DMV. It was, in essence, an aesthetic disaster: Heavily soiled carpet; heavily soiled customers; heavily soiled employees; &. If someone attempted to get a sense of the USA merely from a trip to this DMV, he would think that it was a Third-World country. Perhaps Fourth-World, if that’s possible.

Unsurprisingly, a humorously long line greeted new arrivals. At the end of this line sat a woman whose temperament seemed like a mix of the Marquis de Sade’s and Hitler’s. Whilst “Chip” came closer and closer to this wonderful specimen of humanity, he noticed that she took great delight in rejecting people’s requests.

No matter who approached her, no matter what the request, this dreadful woman simply couldn’t be appeased. She came up with one reason after another why no one could get anything they wanted.

Need a new license? Well, you better have eight forms of identification, a Commodore 64 computer, Donald Trump’s haircut, and a stool sample from Dolly Parton. Oh, and a Russian spy plane.

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Northwest Airlines

Airline companies are perennial punching bags for customer complaints. And for good reason: Virtually without exception, they’re all horrid—at least at times. One needn’t expect the royal treatment to be irked by the sort of paltry service these companies offer their patrons.

Accordingly, dear reader, it’s more than a tad obvious to rip on Northwest Airlines. We mean, come on: It’s an airline, isn’t it? You shouldn’t expect it to be good. In fact, it’s kind of like Ike Turner: It ain’t exactly a news flash when it treats you badly.

If you ask us, excoriating an airline is about as lame as discussing the traffic in Los Angeles. We know, we know—it’s bad, right? Gee, thanks.
But, frankly, dear reader, we just can’t stop ourselves. Having recently embarked on a few Northwest flights, we simply must discuss the horrors we’ve encountered. Think of it as a kind of e-therapy—“weblogging” that may keep us sane.

What, you may reasonably be asking yourself, makes Northwest a cut below the rest in the world of air travel?

Well, we suppose there are many answers to that fine query, but we’ll manage to mention a few. Simply put, Northwest does just about everything wrong.
Here’s an example: Whereas other airlines offer you a paltry snack—say, a miniscule bag of ultra-salty peanuts—Northwest offers food for sale. Two bucks for a mini-can of Pringles, for crying out loud. And, naturally, the flight attendants never have change, which invariably means that you must bring exactly two single dollar bills with you to get your hands on those wretched Pringles.

To make matters worse, Northwest offers you too much to drink: A full can of soda or juice. You’ve got to spend three hours on a flight to Dubuque, you haven’t been served any food, and they thrust a full can of Mountain Dew at you. All this accomplishes is the establishment of an extremely long line to the bathroom at the back of the plane.

Then there’s the trifling matter of flight delays. Sure, darn near every airline is king of aviary postponement. But Northwest seems to go that extra mile (if you will) to ensure that your trip is later than it should be.

But that’s not all. Not only is your flight ineluctably late; the folks at Northwest also routinely lie to you about the time involved in a given delay. When your 4:00 pm flight is delayed to 4:30, there’s a darn good chance that you won’t take off until somewhere around 6:30. After three gate changes, naturally.

For these and many other reasons, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” solemnly believe that Northwest is amongst the very worst in a solidly disappointing field of competition. As far as we can intuit, the only benefit of Northwest is the name of its “website”: To old-school folks like ourselves, nwa.com conjures up images of a rather foul-mouthed rap group.

And the idea of flying with Niggas’ With Attitude Airlines is pretty funny to us.

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That Test Is Whack

Oh, there’s big trouble amongst the Massachusetts Diversity-crats. The inimitable Boston Globe explains:

More than half the black and Hispanic applicants for teaching jobs in Massachusetts fail a state licensing exam, a trend that has created a major obstacle to greater diversity among public school faculty and stirred controversy over the fairness of the test.

The minority failure rate has been demonstrably higher than among whites since the test's inception nearly a decade ago, according to state statistics, which show that 52 percent of Hispanic applicants and 54 percent of black applicants fail the writing portion of the exam. By comparison, 23 percent of whites fail. Black and Hispanic teachers also lag behind white teachers in major subject tests such as English, history, and math.

Well, gee: What are we going to offer our kids—competent teachers or an array of incompetent but differently-hued teachers? As you might well imagine, the Diversity-crats are hoping for the latter. After all, educating children well isn’t exactly important; it can certainly be sacrificed at the Altar of Diversity.

As The Boston Globe goes on to mention, the Diversity-crats are crying foul about the “cultural bias” of the teaching exams. They do so even though Asians perform almost as well as whites on the tests. Perhaps it’s that white male math that’s tripping up people. The Globe informs us:

Some minority teachers have criticized the test for containing culturally biased questions such as readings about investing in the stock market and ancient literature that white, middle-class applicants and those with liberal arts college backgrounds more readily identify with.

Ah, yes: If there’s anything that aspiring white teachers know, it’s the stock market. In our humble experience, pretty much all Caucasian elementary school instructors moonlight as venture capitalists.

And we’re delighted to learn that many minorities with college degrees believe that “ancient literature” is inherently white. Homer; Hesiod; Virgil; the Bhagvad Gita; the Bible—you know, that white-boy stuff. Boy, these complaining minorities already seem to be experts in the Diversity Racket.

In its unimpeachable wisdom, the Globe bestows its readers with an example of a potentially culturally biased question from the exam:

If sentence 4 contains an error in spelling, capitalization, or punctuation, select the type of error. If there is no error, select D, “sentence correct.”

For more conservative investors who want to minimize risk, companies listed on the dow jones industrial average may be of interest.

A. spelling error B. punctuation error C. capitalization error D. sentence correct

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” believe that we speak for all of you when we declare such queries abominably biased in favor of whites and Asians. In fact, if we controlled the Massachusetts state teaching exam, our questions would look like the following:

Yo, this is how we do it. If thiz next sentence got a problem, yo, tell us the motha-f****** problem, yo. Word.

Tyrone, Juan, Jiyoon, and Nigel just gone up to da’ club and sh**. Where dere’ women at?

A. Yo, that sentence is whack B. You forgot to mention Snoop C. Is they hos? D. Bitch, that sentence is fine.

Finally, a fair-minded question!

It is an insult to minorities, of course, to assert that “ancient literature” is inherently beyond their grasp—or that routine sentences on state exams must reflect their own cultural experience for them to pass. Obviously, our stupid—and largely inept—parody of street slang does little to prove our point. But children—including, of course, minority children—deserve the best educators we can find, and we should be very careful before we potentially sacrifice teacher quality to the fashionable and paternalistic Diversity-crats.

UPDATE: For another take on this matter, see the Colossus of Rhodey.

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This Is the End of the E-Innocence

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” write a marginally popular “weblog” here on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web. As you assuredly know, dear reader, we’re no Internet bigwigs. But we pride ourselves on reaching more than a handful of readers each day.

If “weblogs” were states, we suppose that ours would be Idaho. Not too miniscule, but not California either. Oh, and no potatoes. (Man, we just depressed ourselves.)

Recently, in fact, we actually noticed a slight up-tick in the number of “hits” our humble “weblog” receives. Although no avalanche (or Instalanche), it amounted to a noticeable increase in e-traffic.

Finally, we thought to ourselves, our efforts are paying off. Finally our savory brand of “Family Circus”-esque e-humor is attracting gaggles of devotees. Finally we, like Peter Gabriel, are on our way, we’re making it Big Time.

Oh, how silly we collectively were. How shockingly silly. To be downright honest, our e-naïvete is simply breathtaking.

You see, upon closer inspection, we discovered that our sudden burst of e-popularity had more sordid roots than we had imagined. It’s a mite embarrassing to tell you this, but we guess we ought to own up.

As it turns out, one particular “post” remains responsible for our comparatively impressive e-traffic. Some short time ago, we offered a rib-tickling “post” entitled “Lindsey Lohan-Bush.” Its premise was pure genius: It argued that the shenanigans of Lindsey Lohan, Nichole Richie, and Paris Hilton demonstrated that the three ladies are actually shills for the Bush administration. Every time President Bush finds himself in hot water, one of these three skanks it up and/or lands in jail, thus taking the heat off of the Commander-in-Chief.

If you ask us, this was pure comic gold—the very sort of thing that should win us loads and loads of fans. It just doesn’t get more inspired than this.

But it seems as if our brilliant “post” proved popular for an entirely different reason. It appears as if sundry e-strollers, when on Al Gore’s Internet, search for “Lindsey Lohan bush.” And, given the title of our humble “post,” oodles of them headed straight for “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly.” Hence the up-tick.

Ah, they must have been delighted by what they saw. Who needs scandalous pictures of some actress/whore when you can enjoy a few knee-slapping gags?

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Conventional Wisdom = Wishful Thinking

Here’s a newsflash for you: Newsweek magazine is a joke. Yep, you heard it here first, dear reader. No matter how many other folks you know treat Newsweek as their Bible, it’s actually a lodestone for arrant twaddle.

There are many reasons, of course, why this is the case. First and foremost, the culture pages of Newsweek routinely devote space to what can only be deemed anti-culture. You know: Snoop Diggity Doggity; Lindsey Lohan’s drug connections; the editress of Seventeen. According to the ferociously lowbrow people who bring you Newsweek, one simply must know about such folks.

But surely Newsweek’s routine and pernicious left-wing tilt most enrages. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have remarked upon this matter before. Although Newsweek likes to present itself as a largely non-partisan outfit, it’s obviously infused with the typical mainstream media bias.

This would not be an issue at all, of course, if Newsweek presented itself as a glossier, wussier, watered-down version of The Nation. Rather, it offers its readers an irksome pretense of objectivity.

Take, for example, the “Conventional Wisdom Watch” section of the rag. Appearing each week in the magazine’s front section, this feature purports to offer the country’s general sentiments on current events. In reality, it presents nothing so much as the wishful thinking of Newsweek’s left-leaning staff.

In every issue, for instance, the magazine rates the supposed conventional wisdom on George W. Bush. And in every issue the conventional wisdom offers bad news: Bush is horrible, incompetent, a moron. According to the dolts at Newsweek, virtually every week Bush has been president he’s ran afoul of the country’s conventional wisdom.

These days, for instance, there has been some modestly good news for President Bush. There are signs that the surge in Iraq is working, as even The New York Times’ editorial page has noted. The economy appears to be okay—though not marvelous—and Bush has even seen a bit of an up-tick in his polling numbers.

Ah, but Newsweek’s conventional wisdom will have none of that. In the August 27 number of the rag, it proffers the following reading of the president: “What does it mean when a president goes on vacation and nobody cares? Happy brush-clearing, W.”

Uh, gee: Newsweek magazine could fold next week and nobody with a brain would care. Happy sanctimony, Anna Quindlen.

The self-same issue’s conventional wisdom section also offers this assessment of presidential candidate Mike Huckabee: “GOP prez long shot says Repubs can’t survive as the ‘party of plutocrats.’ Agree or not, it’s a fresh message.” Naturally, Newsweek argues that the conventional wisdom favors Mr. Huckabee’s pronouncement.

But of course: Newsweek loves it when a Republican sounds like a Democrat. It’s not the fresh message the mag so esteems, but the lefty message. After all, Joe Lieberman has some fresh messages regarding Iran. Why isn’t Newsweek’s conventional wisdom championing those?

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The Totalitarianism of the Hard Left

As typical Americans inhabiting a populous locale, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must oft take in the mindless protests of radical leftists. Although we don’t run into such blights with great frequency, we’ve certainly seen our share of “No War for Oil” hullabaloos.

Frankly, dear reader, few things rankle as much as dimwitted people chirpily displaying dimwitted slogans. “Make Houses Not War”; “Bush Lied, Millions Died”; “Impeach Cheney”—these are the moronic slogans of the politically un-thoughtful.

But surely chief among the cardinal concerns of the hard Left in this country are civil liberties. As you surely know, our radical buddies bleat on and on about the totalitarian nightmare that the US is becoming under President Bush. Why, the government actually spies on telephone calls to suspected al Qaeda operatives! Perish the thought.

Naturally, though, the purported hard Left regard for civil liberties is merely hogwash. In reality, radical leftists don’t care a jot about civil liberties. Rather, they muster phony complaints about them in order to fling mud at their political opponents.

In fact, radical leftists chiefly pine for full governmental control of people’s lives and an extreme—and perpetual—redistribution of income. In the grand scheme, civil liberties mean nothing to them.

Allow us to prove our point. The recent press on Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez is ominous. In just the past few months, we’ve read reports that paint a picture of a left-wing strongman who’s blatantly scheming for more and more power.

Mr. Chavez has, for instance, declared that he will kick foreigners out of his country for proving too critical of his government. He also aims to shut down media outlets critical of his rule. And, as The Wall Street Journal noted recently, Mr. Chavez has suggested alterations to the Venezuelan constitution that would erase presidential term limits.

Just imagine, dear reader, if President Bush did any of these things. Just imagine if he did anything even remotely like these things. What would the far Left say about that?

Yet our left-wing friends are willing to sweep these troubling facts under the rug in order to cheerlead for their beloved Saint Hugo. He’s a proto-totalitarian aiming at a lifelong dictatorship. But, because he is a left-wing proto-dictator, hypocritical leftists such as the Joe Dirt-coiffed John Pilger love him dearly.

Any time a Chavez supporter natters on about the death of American civil liberties, you know that he’s a liar. He’s just mad that the US government isn’t sufficiently left-wing for his liking.

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The Case for Preemptive Impeachment

As you undoubtedly know, dear reader, lots of our liberal friends are clamoring to impeach President Bush. If you ask us, this is utter foolishness: Our lefty pals really aim to criminalize political disagreements. To them, if an American president is strongly at odds with the “progressive” community, he should be thrown in jail.

Now, of course, our leftist friends pretend that there are real legal issues behind their urge to impeach. You know the whole “argument”: The Bush junta lied our way into the debacle of Iraq, &c. But such sentiments merely amount to partisan takes on recent events and do not demonstrate criminal behavior on the part of the Bush administration.

Frankly, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” kind of wish the Democrats would impeach President Bush. That might be the only thing that would revitalize his flagging presidency. After all, the impeachment of President Clinton really served the Republican Congress well, didn’t it?

Still, we have the sense that the Democratic powers-that-be in the Senate and House are too bright to fall for the far Left’s impeachment rhetoric. Even Russ Feingold’s mealy-mouthed call for a presidential censure won’t pass muster.
Hence we’ll have to endure a year more of radical activists bleating about impeachment on unhinged “weblogs” and in the unhinged pages of The Nation. Kind of a depressing thought, is it not?

But we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” think we have an answer to our left-wing pals’ futile impeachment nonsense. We call it Preemptive Impeachment, and, as good neo-conservatives, you can well imagine that we’ll support anything with the word “preemptive” in the title. (Preemptive Billy Joel Slapping—doesn’t sound so bad, does it?)

So, you may reasonably wonder, how does Preemptive Impeachment work? Well, it’s rather simple, actually. Conservative activists must merely get the ball rolling on impeaching the next Democratic president—whoever he or she may be. They can devote their “weblogs” to fanning preemptively the flames of impeachment for whatever leftist gets elected in the future.

The reasons for this Preemptive Impeachment are easy. Conservatives will likely strongly disagree with the policy decisions of the next Democratic president, and thus all they must do is offer the appearance that these forthcoming policy decisions are criminal.

So, whilst our liberal pals are off screaming for Bush’s head, our conservative buddies can clamor for the head of the next Democrat on the chopping block. And, unlike the lefties, the conservatives won’t have to stop their hectoring in 2008. How do you think the “progressives” will like a taste of their own medicine?

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Shock E-Troops

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have a hunch. Right off the bat, we’ll admit that we may be wrong about it. But it just rings true to us.

Perhaps, dear reader, you have heard about the whole Scott Thomas Beauchamp brouhaha. If not, there’s a good chance that you’re reading this “post” by banging two rocks together. (And, if so, good for you—you’re very resourceful, aren’t you?)

Mr. Beauchamp, a private in the US Army, penned a handful of anonymous columns for the moderate liberal magazine The New Republic. These short pieces offer a brutal picture of American forces in Iraq, highlighting their dubious and alarming conduct.

The articles, having appeared in the pages of TNR, led some readers to cry foul. To them, they just didn’t ring true. After lots of spirited banter on right-wing “weblogs,” the editorial staff at TNR offered a second round of fact-checking, to make sure that the pieces were up to snuff.

As it turns out, the US Army completed its own investigation and has come to the conclusion that Mr. Beauchamp’s articles are chock-a-block with fabrications. Even so, TNR claims that the articles—with one rather glaring exception—are the capital-T Truth.

Accordingly, one can imagine that Al Gore’s Internet will continue to be abuzz about the Private Beauchamp fiasco. Is Mr. Beauchamp the latest Stephen Glass? Is he the military’s Caucasian version of Jayson Blair? &c.

And here’s where our hunch comes in. If you ask us, this whole Beauchamp business has given lots and lots of free publicity to The New Republic. We’d imagine that plenty of folks who had never heard of TNR would now recognize it on the newsstand.

This doesn’t mean, of course, that the Beauchamp brouhaha has greatly increased—or even somewhat increased—the circulation of TNR. Overall, the story doesn’t paint a terribly flattering portrait of the editorial acumen of TNR. Further, many of those most interested in this Beauchamp business are hard-line right-wingers who don’t care a jot for TNR.

Still, a story of this magnitude can only increase the visibility of TNR, and it has probably compelled a fair share of lefties to defend the magazine. So, if you ask us, their seeming gaffe actually aided TNR.

Which leads us to wonder: What kind of gaffe could we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” make that would catapult our humble “weblog” to the World-Wide Web stratosphere? We’d love to rocket into e-superstardom for one horrendous faux pas. But what could it be? Surely putting the phrase faux pas in italics won’t suffice.

Got any ideas? E-popularity beckons.

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Change the Channel Like Beckham

In the past, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have remarked on our hatred of soccer. If you ask us, the game is mind-numbingly boring. What’s worse, snooty Americans attempt to seem cosmopolitan by pretending to esteem the sport. For some reason, liberals believe that faking enthusiasm for soccer (pardon us: Football) demonstrates great concern for poor Paraguayans.

This renders the game the athletic equivalent of the UN. Gosh: No wonder we loathe it.

As such, we’re a bit embarrassed to admit that we got mildly swept up in the whole David Beckham Arrives with his Ridiculous Wife to Play in America fiasco. We can’t help it: Every darn news report focused on the squillions of dollars the LA Galaxy is paying him. How could you ignore this incessant press?

Well, when we say we have been “swept up” by this David Beckham business, we really mean that we’ve become suitably interested to watch a few seconds of soccer on the television in order to spy Mr. Beckham on the field. That might not sound like much, but, given our healthy disdain for soccer, believe us when we tell you that it means a fair amount.

Accordingly, the other day we magically found ourselves sitting in front of the boob tube, about to take in a soccer match. Weird, isn’t it? Broadcast on ESPN 8 (“The Ocho”), the game featured the LA Galaxy (Beckham’s club) and their rivals, the Dubuque Mudhens. Or some such. Frankly, we already forgot the name of the opposing team.

Anyway, much to our surprise, Mr. Beckham actually failed to dash all expectations by taking the field at some point. By this time, we had begun knitting an advent calendar, sucking down a few bottles of cough syrup, and doing grout work in the bathroom, because the soccer was so excruciatingly dull.

Still, Beckham kicked the ball a couple of times, earning the noisy adulation of the LA Galaxy faithful. Oh, the roar of the crowd: The dramatically overpaid British pseudo-hope for soccer in the States ran around like a ninny for a bit. Be still our collective heart.

Last we checked, Mr. Beckham didn’t score a goal. Not one. Nor, we might add, did anyone on his team. You can count all their goals on no fingers. Though we didn’t catch the end of the game—for surely that much soccer would have brought on a particularly nasty seizure—we think that the final score was 1-0.

You know what that means, dear reader. It means that someone actually scored a goal during the course of the entire match. One whole goal. In one game.

Man, no wonder people dig this soccer so much.

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Another Academic Breakthrough

As you might well imagine, dear reader, the scholarly world is all atwitter. Throughout the hallowed halls of academe, ivy-covered professors can’t stop whispering about a brand-new landmark work. Many claim that this magnum opus will forever alter the intellectual universe.

We refer, of course, to “Never Forget: A Journey of Revelations.” And what, you may reasonably ask, is “Never Forget: A Journey of Revelations”? Why, it’s Cornel West’s new rap album.

You know Cornel West, dear reader. He’s the Buckwheat-coiffed black pseudo-scholar who bolted from Harvard University to Princeton University in 2002 when Harvard president Larry Summers criticized his first effort in the realm of so-called “hip-hop.”

Decades ago, West wrote serious articles on philosophy. But, having Mau-Maued his way to the academic stratosphere, he has long since abandoned serious research for all sorts of ridiculous politicized grandstanding. As such, you’re more likely to see West at a political protest or rap concert than an academic conference.

If you ask us, it is to Larry Summers’ eternal credit that the absurd West left Harvard during his tenure. But clearly Joan Anderman, a staff writer for The Boston Globe, thinks otherwise. In the August 12 number of said paper, Ms. Anderman offers “Returning Rap to its Roots,” a pathetically fawning profile of West’s latest “hip-hop” foray.

The kicker to this article reads: “On second album, Cornel West gets a little help from his friends.” Who, you might wonder, are the friends? Do Harvard’s Harvey Mansfield and Princeton’s Peter Singer add a few raps of their own? Maybe Princeton president Shirley Tighman performs a little “human beat-box”?

Ah, no. As Ms. Anderman coos: “What does it take to get Prince, Talib Kweli, Andre 3000, KRS-One, Jill Scott, Rhymefest, and the late Gerald Levert on one album? It takes one man: Cornel West.” Gee, that is some academic accomplishment. No wonder Princeton offers West a big salary.

Surely the most inane part of Ms. Anderman’s puff piece pertains to West’s discussion of Princeton president Tighman’s likely reaction to his rap album. Ms. Anderman quotes West:

“I think she’ll be much more open than Brother Summers,” he says. “The hip-hop scared him. It’s a stereotypical reaction.”

Although Ms. Anderman, of course, lets this ridiculousness remain unchallenged, its obtuseness is clearer than day. Just imagine West produced a bluegrass album instead of a rap LP. Would “Brother Summers” have reacted with glee? Obviously not, but West must play the race card to justify his pernicious shenanigans.

As if it weren’t sufficiently clear years ago, West’s latest activity demonstrates that he’s a pseudo-scholar and panjandrum tired of the rigors of producing serious intellectual work. He’s an embarrassment to Princeton and an embarrassment to the black community. Surely the most prominent black professor in the US ought to be known for his scholarly contributions and not his collaborations with “Rhymefest.”

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Our Glorious Police State

Recently, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have been ruminating on the possibilities of a Democratic loss in the 2008 presidential election. Although, as we mentioned, the current political climate favors their victory, we have a hunch that the Democratic presidential contenders may just blow their chances, chiefly because the American public will find their views on foreign policy insufficiently serious.

But we don’t think that Democratic dovishness serves as the only impediment to a win in 2008. Rather, a letter to the editor in the August 7 number of The Boston Globe demonstrates another way in which the Left in this country seems fatally disconnected from the political mainstream.

The missive in question was penned by one Nancy Murray, whose tagline informs us that she’s the “director of education at ACLU of Massachusetts.” Pertaining to the new congressionally-approved surveillance law, the epistle reads as follows:

If we want to preserve what is left of our civil liberties, we may have to keep Congress in session year round. Not that the legislative branch is doing a good job preserving checks and balances -- far from it. But it appears that all it takes is an impending recess and cranking up the politics of fear for the executive branch to get its way.

As Charlie Savage pointed out in yesterday's Globe, the last time Congress gave the president what he wanted so that they could stampede out of town for a recess, we got the Military Commissions Act of 2006. An amendment that would have preserved the 500-year-old right of habeas corpus lost by just a handful of votes. Ten months later, with the Democrats "in control," we still haven't reversed that decision.

If it takes fear to motivate Congress, maybe each member should be sent a DVD of the 1998 Hollywood film about the National Security Agency, "Enemy of the State." That may be the only hope we have of saving our fundamental freedoms.

If you ask us, this letter speaks volumes about the paranoid delusions of the Democratic base—delusions that may prove off-putting to many moderate voters. First, you’ll note the histrionic tone of the missive’s introduction: “If we want to preserve what is left of our civil liberties….” Ah, yes: So few of our civil liberties remain. Big Brother is upon us. We inhabit a proto-totalitarian state. No wonder we all walk around under constant police and CIA surveillance.

One also has to enjoy Ms. Murray’s take on constitutional checks and balances—a take that demonstrates a curious ignorance of the workings of the American government. According to Ms. Murray, the legislative branch is not “doing a good job of persevering checks and balances” because it is agreeing with the executive branch.

You see, to Ms. Murray, our system of checks and balances requires that the legislative branch incessantly stymie the executive branch—or at least when Republicans make up the executive branch. An odd view of American democracy, is it not?

Yet perhaps nothing’s as delicious as Ms. Murray’s warning to Congress to view some lame Hollywood flick in order to jumpstart their hatred of the Bush administration. This is the advice of ACLU Massachusetts’ “director of education”? No wonder she seems so strikingly uninformed on our Police State.

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The Last Refuge of…Everyone

Those who follow current events in these here United States of America undoubtedly recognize that certain political arguments reappear with irksome regularity. For instance, our beloved friends on the Left love to bring out the “chickenhawk” argument any time our country engages in a military conflict that isn’t to their liking.

As such, to our left-wing pals, you’re a “chickenhawk” if you are a non-veteran who supports the Iraq War, but magically you’re not a “chickenhawk” if you are a non-veteran who supported the Kossovo War. Makes sense, eh?

But, of all the myriad recurring arguments in American political discourse, our least favorite amounts to any example of the patriotism charge. In fact, with the presidential election continuing full-steam, the very word “patriotism” sends shivers down our spines. It’s kind of like when we hear the ominous phrase “Billy Joel.”

You know the patriotism argument, dear reader. It’s used by all sides of the political spectrum. And, to be downright honest, it’s more likely to be implied reflexively than charged outright.

Every once in a great while, some hayseed may actually charge that, say, those who deplore the American invasion of Iraq are un-patriotic. This, of course, is standard recourse to the patriotism argument.

More often, however, one brings up the patriotism charge in a more cunning and less direct fashion. For instance, one could claim that one’s opponents charge one of un-patriotic sentiment for opposing the American invasion of Iraq—even though no one has really done so.

This, we think, is the chief use of the patriotism charge—erroneously charging others with casting oneself as un-patriotic. Hence one sees ridiculous bumper stickers (pardon the redundancy) with slogans such as “Dissent Is Patriotic” and “Peace Is Patriotic.” The idea, of course, is that others disagree and are casting aspersions in your general direction—even though they’re not, and you brought up the patriotism argument yourself.

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” collectively say: Enough. Enough of the stupid recourse to dimwitted concerns about patriotism. We’re simply sick and tired (in that order) of people playing the patriotism card. Doesn’t anyone play the race card anymore?

So, for the purposes of our sanity, we’re fully willing to assert that everybody is patriotic. Every last one of us. Even if you’re an illegal immigrant with love for Al Qaeda, you love America. Land of the brave, and so forth.

If you think Scott Thomas Beauchamp’s dubious stories about his experiences in Kuwait are fantastic, you’re a patriot. If you love Yearly Kos activists shouting down servicemen, you’re a patriot. Even if you’re an inveterate “chickenhawk,” you’re a patriot.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can we move on to more substantial arguments? You know, like John Edwards’ haircuts?

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Virgin Territory

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” naturally consider ourselves intellectuals. After all, we run one of the most thought-provoking “websites” on Al Gore’s Internet—of course we’re deep thinkers.

Accordingly, dear reader, the humble headquarters of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” receives all sorts of serious periodicals: Social Text; New Left Review; Cracked; Black Hair Care; &c. But one particular journal seems head and shoulders above the rest in its intellectual content.

We refer, of course, to Seventeen magazine. Perhaps, dear reader, you are unaware of Seventeen. If so, there’s a darn good chance that you fail to pepper each of your sentences with umpteen “likes” and “you knows.” And that is, like, so, like, lame.

In essence, Seventeen purports to be aimed at seventeen-year-old girls. In reality, the magazine chiefly attracts so-called “tween” girls, since seventeen-year-olds have already outgrown Seventeen in favor of Cosmo or The Anorexic Weekly.

Regardless, like any girl’s fashion magazine, Seventeen focuses on the higher things in life. If by “higher things in life” you mean shopping, flirting, and encouraging bulimia. And we certainly do.

Anyway, one of the distaff staffers here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call her “Chip”—spied a particularly interesting survey found in the pages of the August 2007 number of Seventeen. Found on page 126 of said issue—and not available on the World-Wide Web—this survey is titled “Are You Sure You’re Still a Virgin?”

Well, gee: Last we checked. But thanks for asking.

Along with the survey results comes the following helpful information:

Not everyone agrees on what it means to “lose it,” so we teamed up with Sexetc.org to survey nearly 15,000 of you on your definition.

We know what you’re thinking, dear reader: “What were the results? We’ll just die if we don’t’ get to know what it means to ‘lose it.’” Well, here are a few percentages pertaining to the question “What makes you not a virgin?”

According to the aforementioned teens surveyed, 29% believe that giving or receiving oral sex disqualifies you from virgin status. No wonder President Clinton proved so popular with the younger crowd. Given this low percentage, we’re curious how many teens know what the definition of “is” is—another Clinton specialty.

76% of the teens believed that one is no longer a virgin if “a penis enters your vagina at all.” More interestingly, 99% believe that one cannot claim to be a virgin if you have experienced “vaginal intercourse with ejaculation.”

Uh, only 99%? Does this mean that 1% of the teens surveyed have no clue what the word “virgin” means? Or is 1% of the sample severely retarded? (Both strike us as reasonable propositions.)

Perhaps these benighted teens believe that you’re still a virgin until you sleep with Charlie Sheen. If so, we’d wager that roughly 30% of the girls surveyed are still virgins.

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“The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—Political Kingmaker?

By now, dear reader, you have undoubtedly heard about the so-called Yearly Kos convention. This particular get-together, which is, interestingly enough, annual, features a bevy of far Left “webloggers” who spend a few days reveling in their love for John Conyers, trading ways to assassinate Republicans, and pining for a bloodbath in Iraq. You know, normal stuff.

But this year was a bit different from most. You see, the presidential election is coming apace, and thus all the Democratic candidates—save Joe Biden—showed up at the Yearly Kos festivities to suck up to the so-called “netroots.” Makes sense, huh: The “netroots” sure treated Ned Lamont well. Thanks to them, Uncle Ned catapulted to a catastrophic defeat in the latest Connecticut election for Senate.

Quite frankly, dear reader, we seldom read the Daily Kos, the popular left-wing “weblog” that, interestingly enough, put on the Yearly Kos event. Although we like our share of crazy left-wing rants, we just don’t find the Daily Kos user-friendly. In order to get to the good (read: Crazy) bits, you have to wade through umpteen dull “posts” about polling data and electoral minutiae. No thanks: Arianna Huffington’s zaniness is just a click away.

Yet the ability of the Yearly Kos gala to draw in almost the entire Democratic field—despite the loud protests of a typically stentorian Bill O’Reilly—struck us as revealing. From our reading of the media reports on the event, the Yearly Kos convention specializes in defrocking and booting out American servicemen. And yet for some reason it’s a tremendous success.

Are you, dear reader, thinking what we’re collectively thinking? You know: A first-annual “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” convention?

Yeah, probably not. We didn’t think you were.

But it could be a complete smash. Just imagine it: A well-coiffed John Edwards stands behind an official “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” podium, speaking into an official “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” microphone and delivering a stump speech on the evils of hypocrisy. Sounds rather good, does it not?

We could even get corporate sponsorship for our convention, until some enraged television pundit (we’re thinking of you, Keith Olbermann) pitches a fit and compels Chia-Pet to drop its erstwhile support. Obama can give a rousing speech about his rousing foreign policy inexperience, and Hillary Clinton can step up to the mic and seem as stiff and wooden as always.

Oh, it’ll be just magical. If only we had about, oh, five hundred thousand more readers a day. Then we’d really be cooking with gas.

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To Each One’s Own Facts, or One Reason Alec Baldwin Isn’t Very Smart

Apparently Alec Baldwin has never heard of Richard Armitage. We say this, dear reader, because Mr. Baldwin’s latest Huffington Post rant on the Valerie Plame brouhaha demonstrates a shocking ignorance of the case at hand.

In his recent “posts” for the Huffy Po, Mr. Baldwin has been outlining for his readers various goals that he would set for himself were he the next president of the United States. According to the latest “post” in this deeply enlightening series, Mr. Baldwin says he would “prosecute whoever is responsible for outing Valerie Plame as a CIA agent.”

Uh, okay, Mr. Baldwin. That would be Richard Armitage, Colin Powell’s erstwhile underling. You did know that, didn’t you?

In addition, perhaps someone should let you know that a fellow named Patrick Fitzgerald served as the special prosecutor regarding the Plame affair. Interestingly, as it turns out, he did not charge anyone with the outing of Valerie Plame. This was surely the result of the fact that Ms. Plame’s CIA career was well known around Washington and, in addition, Mr. Fitzgerald could not prove that Mr. Armitage had leaked her name to Bob Novak with any sort of malice.

Gosh, you’d think that Mr. Baldwin would have studied up on such details before writing a paragraph like the following:

Robert Novak will go to his grave with the disgrace of having served as the handmaiden of this heinous act, but his time has already passed. Those in government who are responsible must be prosecuted. The integrity of our government is always imperiled when men like Bush and Cheney are at the wheel. But the Plame affair puts all of us on notice. Political acts of this nature are the bailiwick of communists and fascists, not Americans whose country fights for freedom and democracy this very day in a foreign land, spending billions upon billions of dollars and sacrificing the lives of brave men and women in the process. Valerie Plame was a soldier in that war, too. We owe her all that we owe any American who serves this country.

We know what you’re thinking, dear reader: Geez. Even for an actor Alec Baldwin is coming across as a complete moron. When you can out-dumb your average thespian, you’ve really accomplished something.

But we mention this, dear reader, not because it proves that Alec Baldwin isn’t exactly a brain surgeon. On its own, that’s a rather unremarkable discovery. In fact, we think you could come to such a conclusion from merely eyeballing Mr. Baldwin.

Rather, we thought Mr. Baldwin’s “post,” and umpteen comments on it, demonstrate the great mental disconnect between the far Left and the rest of the American political spectrum. From what we can tell, it appears as if our far-lefty pals have extraordinarily different versions of the Plame affair in their head.

What else would lead them to ignore Richard Armitage’s role in the brouhaha? What else would lead them to suspect that Joe Wilson was a completely objective fellow who wasn’t sent to Niger by his wife?

We sincerely hope that these studied misunderstandings are to be found among the radicals alone. But this sort of nonsense doesn’t bode well for the future of American politics. If everyone’s dealing with his own set of facts, we’re highly unlikely to accomplish anything of value. Nietzsche might be happy with this state of affairs, but we ought not applaud.

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How Will They Do It Again?

Let’s be downright honest: The current political situation in this country strongly favors a Democratic victory in the 2008 presidential election. Although the economy is doing fairly well—though not the housing market, it seems—it is safe to say that most Americans are feeling their share of Bush fatigue. (Insert tasteless yuk pertaining to the phrase “Bush fatigue” here.)

Yet we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have the sneaking suspicion that the Democrats may just ruin things again and lose a very winnable election. (Perhaps we should call this Gary Hart Syndrome?)

In fact, we’ve made this case before on the popular “weblog” Wizbang. And more recent evidence leads us to conclude that the Democrats are in more trouble than one might expect. Not more trouble than Lindsey Lohan, mind you, but trouble nonetheless.

To alter a Clintonian turn of phrase, it’s the foreign policy, stupid. On a whole host of issues—social security, abortion, healthcare, Slim Jims, &c.—the American public leans closer to the Democrats than the Republicans. Yet citizens of these here United States of America reasonably question the Dems on one crucial topic: Foreign policy.

Quite frankly, the Democratic presidential contenders express views on foreign policy that appear to fit into one of two camps: Unmitigated pacifism (Kucinich, Gravel) or self-contradictory confusion (everyone else). If you ask us, the Democratic candidate whose views on the topic make the most sense is Joe Biden. Even though we consider many of his positions incorrect, at least it’s clear he knows what he’s talking about. And his hair plugs are pretty fantastic.

Yet Senator Biden is not a top-tier candidate. (You’ll find more Indians in 7-11 than Bidens in the White House.) Hillary Clinton is top-tier, and she appears to vacillate between hawkishness and dovishness in a bewildering combination that simply reeks of John Kerry. Don’t her advisors see this as a bit of a problem?

And Barack Obama? Puh-lease. One minute he says he’ll blithely chat with the leaders of Iran, Syria, and North Korea without any parameters, and the next he’s talking tough about invading Pakistan. Can anyone figure this man out?
Perhaps this merely demonstrates the degree to which the legacy of the Vietnam War has crippled the Democratic Party. Most of its elected officials seem unable to believe that American power can be a force for good—unless, of course, it is flexed in circumstances that do not in any way relate to national interests. (Hello, Darfur.)

So, if you’re a Republican, you may want to get that popcorn ready and enjoy another Democratic implosion. Al Gore’s stunning 2000 loss was pretty remarkable on its own. But, if the Dems don’t get serious about foreign policy in this time of terrorism, their defeat in 2008 will be even more incredible.

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Pro-Life, Pro-Death

Gosh, we really ought not read Newsweek. It’s ineluctably a tragic mistake. Upon picking up this uppity version of People magazine, our blood pressure magically rises through the roof.

What, you may reasonably be wondering, makes Newsweek so bothersome? Oh, the answers to that query are so numerous that we hardly know where to begin. But, we suppose, we ought to start with one of Newsweek’s long-time columnists, Anna Quindlen.

You know Anna Quindlen, dear reader. She’s Newsweek’s liberal soccer mom. By means of her folksy suburban charm, she supports myriad moderate blue state causes. And for some reason, we find her upper-middle-class Caucasian editorial sanctimony enraging. Why, after all, should we endure browbeating about tax rates from a woman who seems primed to jump in her mini-van and pick up little Zack and Nigel from yoga?

In fact, we have the sneaking suspicion that Ms. Quindlen could compel us to become activists for any cause, provided she’s opposed to it. Gravity? Well, if Ms. Quindlen supports gravity, we’ll happily campaign against it. Isaac Newton was a quack as far as we’re concerned.

We say this, dear reader, after taking in “How Much Jail Time?”, Ms. Quindlen’s most recent orgy of sanctimony, which is found in the August 6 number of Newsweek. For our whole lives, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have been resolutely pro-choice. And yet Ms. Quindlen’s column has compelled us to wish we were staunch pro-lifers. We’re not, of course, but we sure wish we were.

Why, just take in the first few paragraphs of Ms. Quindlen’s article:

Buried among prairie dogs and amateur animation shorts on YouTube is a curious little mini-documentary shot in front of an abortion clinic in Libertyville, Ill. The man behind the camera is asking demonstrators who want abortion criminalized what the penalty should be for a woman who has one nonetheless. You have rarely seen people look more gobsmacked. It's as though the guy has asked them to solve quadratic equations. Here are a range of responses: "I've never really thought about it." "I don't have an answer for that." "I don't know." "Just pray for them."

You have to hand it to the questioner; he struggles manfully. "Usually when things are illegal there's a penalty attached," he explains patiently. But he can't get a single person to be decisive about the crux of a matter they have been approaching with absolute certainty.

The proper response to this self-important palaver is: Oh, just shut up. We pine to be pro-life, so we could tell Ms. Quindlen what the proper punishment for having an abortion should be.

After all, why couldn’t abortion be among the numerous crimes that hardly ever earn prosecution? You know, like immigration violations. Don’t we merely champion illegal immigrants in this country as part of our “diverse” nation’s workforce?

But, heck: If Anna Quindlen wants to know the appropriate punishment for an abortion, here it is: The death penalty. That’ll teach those ladies to respect life.

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Public Education Is…

In previous installments of this humble “weblog,” we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have decried the patent idiocy of numerous bumper stickers. If you ask us—and, technically speaking, you have not—bumper stickers are nothing but vehicular eyesores.

Now, a careful perusal of this humble “weblog” will lead you to believe that left-leaning slogans particularly irk us. Sure, we may pretend to disdain bumper stickers tout court, but we keep mentioning those emblazoned with left-wing shibboleths as particularly loathsome.

But not today, dear reader. Not today.

For, on his way to work a few short days ago, one of the senior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—spied a rip-roaring right-wing bumper sticker that may rank up at the top of most obtuse slogans ever imagined. Slapped on an appropriately folksy pickup truck, it offered a rather frightening message. To be downright honest, “Chip” wondered how unhinged the fellow who put on this sticker must be.

Its message? The bumper sticker read as follows:

Public Education Is Child Abuse

We know what you’re thinking, dear reader: Wow. What a complete crazy person.

As much as we find fault with much of the public education status quo in this country—the teachers unions, the red tape, Judith Butler, &c.—we simply can’t understand why anyone rational would pine to shut down all our nation’s public schools. But the guy in this pickup truck didn’t merely plump for school vouchers; he aimed to annihilate American public education wholesale.

Although this sentiment on its own is completely bonkers, the bumper sticker in question even manages to up the crazy factor from this preternaturally high level. For it proclaims that public education isn’t merely bad, but is akin to “child abuse.”

Child abuse? Dear Lord. We’re glad we didn’t attend school with this guy. We’re not quite sure what they were teaching there, but they must have messed up something horrible.

In fact, this bumper sticker comes across as so hyperbolic that one wonders whether its owner recognizes what child abuse is. Perhaps he’s an unrepentant child abuser himself, and thus aims at a bit of self-exoneration by proffering a dubious connection between child abuse and, say, the University of Michigan.

And, as we all know, such a connection is only valid in regard to Michigan’s Women’s Studies Department.

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