September 28, 2007

Katrina vanden Heuvel’s Inadvertent Humor Rag

Ah, The Nation, one of America’s foremost political weeklies printed on toilet paper. Is any magazine—other than Soldier of Fortune and Highlights for Children, of course—a better read? We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” collectively think not.

And why should we? With every passing political controversy, The Nation manages to come across as increasingly unhinged. It’s rather amazing, actually: Just when you think the writers at this storied rag can’t get any worse, as if by magic they do.

Here’s a delightful case in point. Jayati Vora, a 2007 graduate of Columbia University and a current intern at The Nation, recently penned “Debating Ahmadinejad at Columbia,” a scintillating “Web”-only exclusive.

The kicker The Nation offers to the piece ably demonstrates its almost preternatural fatuity:

Columbia University President Lee Bollinger's combative remarks tarnish an otherwise illuminating event.

Oh, of course: Surely it was Lee Bollinger’s pugnacious commentary that sullied President Ahmadinejad’s thoughtful lucubrations. Naturally, it was in bad taste for Mr. Bollinger to point out that President Ahmadinejad is a Holocaust-denying supporter of terrorism. How very gauche.

In pure Nation fashion, Ms. Vora pronounces herself horrified, not by the odious remarks of an unstable tyrant, but by the truth-telling of Mr. Bollinger. Allow Ms. Vora to explain:

Matteen Mokalla, an Iranian-American student at SIPA studying the Middle East, spoke of the mood on campus. "Before the talk, the entire campus was electrified," he said. "Everybody was talking about it. When we were standing in line, we joked, 'Is this the line for the Rolling Stones?' Because it felt like that."

But that pride and excitement was tarnished by the opening remarks of Columbia President Lee Bollinger. In his statement, combative and unduly vicious, Bollinger accused his invited guest of being nothing more than a "petty and cruel dictator," of having a "fanatical mindset." He claimed that this exercise was valuable in knowing one's enemies and understanding "the mind of evil."

According to Ms. Vora, Mr. Bollinger committed the grave sin of uttering “Bushisms.”

Coming from a magazine of the Left, this is laughable. After all, these are the folks who consider Christian fundamentalists guilty of possessing “fanatical mindsets.” And here they are defending Ahmadinejad—the president of a country that hangs homosexuals—from the purportedly outrageous slings and arrows of Lee Bollinger.

Some commitment to gay rights! Some commitment to secularism! What do these people stand for expect for tyrants opposed to America?

Naturally, had Lee Bollinger accused George W. Bush of being a “petty and cruel dictator” possessing a “fanatical mindset,” the morons at The Nation would be cheering with glee. But, since he’s only a genocidal, anti-Semitic Muslim fanatic who rules a police state and not the president of the United States, The Nation is willing to give Ahmadinejad a pass.

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September 27, 2007

Easily Impressed

On the evening of Monday, September 23, one of our senior editors—let’s just call him “Chip”—made a rather big mistake. What was this gaffe, you ask?

Tasering the garbage out of a college student? Nope. Agreeing to manufacture Dennis Kucinich plush dolls for the holidays? No, sir.

Rather, “Chip” found himself watching “Hardball,” a feculent television program hosted by the uproariously irksome Chris Matthews. Ah, yes: “Chip” committed quite a faux pas indeed.

Now, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have blathered on about the odious Mr. Matthews in the past. Simply put, the guy’s a blowhard. His staccato voice rankles and he incessantly interrupts his guests. He is, we suppose, a sort of blue-collar Charlie Rose.

But on the particular installment of “Hardball” “Chip” watched, Mr. Matthews seemed particularly irritating. And his program was dedicated to discussing the recent appearance at Columbia University of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Iran’s Nutter-in-Chief.

This is not, we dare say, a particularly contentious matter. After all, only a complete buffoon would submit anything resembling support for the genocidal terrorist-supporter from Iran.

Even so, Mr. Matthews managed to offend even in the course of a discussion on this tepid controversy. If “Chip” remembers correctly, his guests for this particular segment were two Columbia students, both of whom found themselves markedly unimpressed with the Iranian despot.

Mr. Matthews, in one of his usual bursts of interruption, asked one of the students if he was “impressed” by Ahmadinejad’s purported disinclination to deny the Holocaust. When said student said he was not, Mr. Matthews was surprised. Obviously, he thought that the Iranian nutter’s hemming and hawing about the possibility of the Holocaust being an actual historical event was a revelation. As such, he said he was impressed.

Well, gee, Mr. Matthews: You sure do impress easily. If this sort of thing serves to impress you, you ought to wonder about the character of the man you’re discussing. After all, belief in the existence of the Holocaust shouldn’t exactly put you up for the Nobel Prize, now should it?

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September 26, 2007

The 300,000 Club

Another day, another milestone. Or so it seems for the storied “Hatemonger’s Quarterly.” Although we, the crack young staff, are but a few years old, our humble “weblog” has already attained great heights.

For example, we’ve lost two straight Weblog Awards. Not so shabby, eh? We thought so too.

Truth be told, it’s been a pretty nice run. We’ve received praise and “links” from such heavy-hitters as John Podhoretz, Andrew Sullivan, and a guy whose “website” is entirely devoted to the discussion of monkeys.

It’s not surprising, under such circumstances, that “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” has become an official member of the 300,000 “Hits” Club. No: That doesn’t have anything to do with Wilt Chamberlain, Ike Turner, and a DC-10.

Rather, it’s the reward one receives for reaching such an impressive “hits” count. 300,000 “hits,” to be specific.

Sure, for Glenn Reynolds and some other world-famous “webloggers,” 300,000 “hits” is what one calls Wednesday. Still, given all the detritus on the Internet, a solid 300,000 “hits” is pretty nice.

From informal calculations around the office water cooler, we’ve even concluded that well nigh 5,000 of those “hits” come from people who are not staffers here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly.” Yep: That means that at least a few folks actually read our humble “weblog” for something resembling entertainment.

Pretty soon, we’ll have outlasted all of America’s one-term presidents. Especially that odious Jimmy Carter. And unlike the pseudo-peanut farmer, we’ve never caused a jot of stagflation.

So what, you may reasonably wonder, can you expect from “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” in the months and years to come? Well, you may very well see us lose yet another installment of the Weblog Awards.

In addition, we, like Philip Glass, will try to keep it simple. As they say, if it isn’t broke, there’s no reason why anyone should call the repairman. More tasteless yuks, more uninspired animadversions.

We’ll see you at 500,000, folks.

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September 25, 2007

The Other Presidents People Should Hate

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” always figured that politicians were pound for pound the most obnoxious folks on the planet. After all, they’re rich buffoons who tell half-truths for a living.

But events of the last year or so have led us to rethink our previously stated position. Perhaps it’s not the politicians who so rankle, it’s the fancy-pants types in the world of university administration. That is to say, the presidents of the United States may be bad, but the presidents of your local colleges are far, far worse.

Just take the higher education headlines of the last few months as a guide. Few men, of course, are more self-righteously obnoxious than Duke University president Richard (“Dick”) Brodhead. After all, this is the man who, when not whitewashing a Palestinian terrorist powwow he allowed on his campus, is busy making the Duke lacrosse non-rape case into an utter fiasco.

It’s hard to imagine, in fact, that a college president could be more incapable of leadership than Dick Brodhead. The guy’s a master of equivocation and self-exonerating nonsense. He’s a jellyfish with a moustache. (And it ain’t that nice a moustache, either.)

Ah, but of course another president of a world-class university could give Mr. Brodhead a proverbial run for his money. We mean, naturally, Lee Bollinger, the head of Columbia University.

Other “webloggers” have already spilled much e-ink over the recent visit of Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to the hallowed halls of Columbia. So you likely know of Mr. Bollinger’s hypocrisy in all it’s glorious splendor: This is a fellow who’ll let a Holocaust-denying, genocidal, terrorist-supporter on his campus, but won’t countenance ROTC. Some things, we guess, are just beyond the pale.

And then there’s the matter of Mr. Bollinger’s rather toothless punishment for those students who stormed a speech at Columbia from a leader of the Minutemen. They broke up the event, destroying this fellow’s free speech rights—but Mr. Bollinger didn’t seem terribly exercised about it. This was the case even though Mr. Bollinger played the free-speech card as his way of excusing his invitation to the odious terrorist from Iran.

We could go on all day. It’s pretty clear that the nutter from Iran was an acceptable speaker for Mr. Bollinger because his racist commentary pertains to the Jews. If Ahmadinejad made some appalling remarks about, say, African Americans, you can bet no fancy-pants college president would come anywhere near the guy. For such administrators, free speech only goes so far.

The list of college president nonsense must be endless. So, if everyone hates politicians and lawyers so heartily, why do these obnoxious, self-important twits seem to get a break? If you ask us, John Edwards isn’t half as annoying as Dick Brodhead.

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September 24, 2007

The Last Refuge of an Idiot

Ah, another day, another vapid bumper sticker slogan. Or so it seems. As if by magic, one of our senior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—manages to spy more dimwitted bumper stickers than you can shake a stick at.

Or, if you’re a real grammar stickler, more dimwitted bumper stickers than those at which you can shake a stick. (Yeah: That’s better.)

It should come as absolutely no surprise, then, to learn that a recent prowl of a nearby parking garage left “Chip” staring at yet another exemplum of the tired left-wing bumper sticker. For “Chip,” it sort of goes with the territory.

You know: Some guys date lots and lots of attractive women, and others see all manner of obtuse bumper stickers. Even Steven, eh?

And what, you may be asking yourself, did this particular bumper sticker say? Well, dear reader, we’re glad you asked. Its text in full read:

Think. It’s Patriotic.

That’s it. No bells, no whistles, no Noam Chmosky quotes. Just “Think. It’s Patriotic.”

Clearly, the owner of said bumper sticker aimed to demonstrate his superior cognitive abilities by claiming that his version of patriotism—unlike that of stupid yokels—requires thought. No flag-waving, mindless jingoist, he.

We hate to rain on this fellow’s parade, but we are pretty certain that his bumper sticker not only fails to display its owner’s intellectual prowess, but also makes no sense. We mean, come on: “Think. It’s Patriotic.”

What if you’re thinking about destroying your own country? Does the cognitive process involved in this odious activity amount to patriotism? We collectively think not.

What if you’re thinking about cheating on your taxes, to the distinct detriment of good ole’ Uncle Sam? That wouldn’t make you a lodestar of patriotism, now would it?

Clearly, it’s the character of your thoughts and not the thoughts themselves that demonstrate your patriotism. And so, as an exercise in snooty faux-intellectual superiority, this particular bumper sticker is an utter failure.

But we could almost see why the owner of this slogan thought it might prove true. After all, Katha Pollitt can’t think, and she isn’t very patriotic, either.

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September 21, 2007

A Little OJ in the Morning, Afternoon, and Evening

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” got a card in the mail today. Its contents read as follows:

Dear Crack Young Staff,

As a representative of the United States government, I am writing to you because you are proprietors of a Web site. As such, I must inform you that you have to discuss OJ Simpson’s recent legal wrangling as soon as possible and as often as possible.

Every other media outlet is engaged in a discussion of OJ’s antics, and I cannot very well have any outliers failing to comply with our unofficial “All OJ” policy—however insignificant the source may be.

I expect that you will touch upon the OJ fiasco soon, so that my office need no longer monitor your telephone calls. All true Americans (read: Republicans) would begin discussing OJ posthaste, because that is what our founding fathers would have wanted.

Dick Sheister
Assistant Director
US Department of Shifty Flacks

We know what you are thinking, dear reader: Wow—a bona fide letter from the US government! Pretty impressive, is it not? Clearly, though, the evil goons who make up the Bush junta are trying to scare us into discussing the recent OJ business.

Like any card-carrying member of, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” remain brutally frightened of the Bush regime. After all, Bush and his Jewish cronies have wrecked all kinds of havoc: They killed Ernesto “Che” Guevara; they neutered Lassie; and they eat fuzzy bunnies for brunch. We’re not bloody likely to anger this set.

It is with great reluctance—but undying patriotism—then, that we deign to discuss the media’s latest obsession: OJ Mania, part two. Quite frankly, we haven’t got anything grand to say about this mess, but that hasn’t stopped anyone else from pontificating, now has it?

So here’s our collective first impression: Isn’t it odd that a stand-up character such as OJ would find himself in more legal difficulties? We consider it hard to believe ourselves.

We mean, come on: This is a fellow who has dedicated his life—yes, his life—to finding the real killers of Nicole Brown Simpson and that other fellow. Does someone on such an admirable quest seem like the type of guy who’d rob a memorabilia store at gunpoint? Not to us. Not to us.

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September 20, 2007

Please Tase Him, Bro

As usual in these hectic times, dear reader, there are oodles of interesting stories in the news. OJ is once again in hot water; Britney Spears finds herself in a gripping custody battle; and, for those of you who still haven’t gotten their fill, something called the Iraq War still appears to be ongoing.

But one particular tale has grabbed our attention more than all the others combined. We refer, dear reader, to the recent brouhaha at the University of Florida.

A Massachusetts Senator named John Kerry addressed a crowd at this semi-storied institution of semi-higher learning, and, during the question-and-answer portion of the festivities, some far Left student would not stop hogging the microphone. Instead, said student, a fellow named Andrew Meyer, pontificated to all and sundry about the “stolen” 2004 presidential election, &c.

Since Mr. Meyer resolutely refused to hand over the microphone, a couple of campus security guards shot him with a taser gun. In the midst of these festivities, the partially subdued Mr. Meyer shouted “Don’t tase me, bro.”

The results of this action were entirely predictable: John Kerry remains tone-deaf regarding the whole situation; a bevy of irate University of Florida students gathered to protest the campus police’s “brutality”; and the media have eaten it all up like porridge. Although, as the time of this writing, it is unclear whether Mr. Meyer was really pulling a prank, it is certainly true that he has garnered more press than he could have imagined.

To many folks, the whole University of Florida brouhaha shines a spotlight on one important question: Should campus police have recourse to taser guns? As far as numerous University of Florida students are concerned, the answer to that query is a resolute No.

Ah, but we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must quibble with this point of view. Hence today’s “post.” In our collective minds, it would be a travesty—yes, a travesty—if campus police could not taser unruly undergraduates.

In fact, we can express our opinion even more frankly. Without any risk of hyperbole, we can tell you that we positively live for police officers tasering annoying college kids. Each morning, the possibility of some cop somewhere tasering the garbage out of an undergrad is the only thing that gets out of bed.

We mean, come on: What is more irksome than the typical rowdy college student? He thinks he works really, really hard, but he really spends more time on acquaintance rape than homework. To make matters worse, he acts like a know-it-all, as if his 19 years on planet earth have bestowed him with preternatural wisdom.

No wonder we detest these brats. Geez: If you set up a “website” entirely devoted to tasering such morons, we’d happily subscribe. It’d be our honest-to-goodness favorite.

Yes: In our humble opinion, if you fail to allow police to taser the crap out of these folks, you’ll make life that much worse for all of us.

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September 19, 2007

Careful Ruminations on the Anti-War Movement, or Shut Up, You Stupid Hippie

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” recently caught wind of the fact that sundry witless radicals staged a pro-capitulation rally in Washington, DC on Saturday, September 15. And by “caught wind of the fact,” we mean it: Although our headquarters aren’t anywhere near the storied District of Columbia, we could smell those mephitic hippie from here.

Ah, yes: Another in the long line of pathetic Stalinoid protests. Our lives under so-called “late capitalism” would be less rich without the moronic antics of young trust-fund radicals, who blithely do the dirty work for Islamofascists.

A few pictures from said rally demonstrate that this was merely the latest in a long series of by-the-books tantrums. All the usual signage was on display: “Impeach Bush”; “No War for Oil”; “Free Palestine”; “Sammy Davis Jr. Was My Great Uncle”; &c.

As usual, the idiotic far leftists who gather at these powwows couldn’t discipline themselves sufficiently to stay on message. Though this was a pro-capitulation in Iraq rally, pictures show all sorts of placards about “freeing Mumia,” destroying Israel, &c. It’s as if the rally was one giant meeting of the Attention Deficit Disorder Club.

Still, these latest antics from the pro-capitulation movement—humdrum as they appear—got us to thinking a bit. Not, we dare say, major-league reflections, but some careful examples of cogitation nonetheless. And, after some serious thought, we have decided that various things about the pro-capitulation movement make no sense.

First, we must discuss a group calling itself Code Pink. How, we wonder, does a cabal with such an interesting and attractive name turn out to be such a downer? Frankly, we think it’s criminal to call yourself Code Pink and be this lame and boring.

If you don’t know anything about the so-called Code Pinksters, allow us to inform you that they’re a gaggle of die-hard feminists who shill for hardcore anti-feminist Islamists. Makes sense, huh? It does to them, apparently.

To make matters even worse, even though Code Pink has a nice, cutesy name, its members seem to be nothing but dilapidated old farts. As such, when they invariably sponsor some “naked protest” or other, the proper response is to run in fear. Unless, of course, you are in great need of an emetic.

But surely the bit about the pro-capitulation movement that most troubles us is the fact that pretty much everyone refers to it by the moniker “anti-war.” This, of course, is insufficiently specific. These morons aren’t “anti-war” per se; rather they’re opposed to Western participation in wars. They haven’t got any problem with Osama bin Laden, Iran, the Palestinians, or Hezbollah starting a conflict, they just want the West to capitulate immediately.

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September 18, 2007

Field of Nightmares

Perhaps, dear reader, you watched the Emmy Awards this year. If so, you can be sure that we were not among your number. Nope: Although we’re certainly familiar with the term “Emmy Awards,” for some reason we need to be reminded that this is the television industry’s orgy of self-celebration and not, say, the music industry’s.

As such, we have no cotton-pickin’ clue who took home this year’s Emmys. Nor do we know who was up for an award. With one niggling exception: Someone called Sally Field appears to have won a best actress award for a television program of which we have never heard.

The only reason we found out about her prestigious medal for Best Hat Design, or some such, dear reader, is the fact that Ms. Field decided to use her acceptance speech as—wait for it—an exercise in dimwitted left-wing political hectoring. And Fox, the network broadcasting the Emmys, decided to delete the audio portion of her moronic diatribe, ostensibly because it was expletive-laden.

In said rant, Ms. Field prayed that women would run the world, so that there’d be no more wars. Or some arrant nonsense to this effect.

Boy, Ms. Field has sure studied up on her history. She’s well aware of the fact that female leaders such as Margaret Thatcher have proved entirely peaceable. If only old Boudica were in charge of the UK again!

The mainstream media, naturally, has had a field day (if you will) with Ms. Field’s lame anti-Iraq War blather. Oh, oh: She’s just so bold—what courage it must take to offer an anti-Bush pontification in Hollywood! Talk about a career risk.

Frankly, dear reader, we just can’t get exercised over Ms. Field’s dimwitted claptrap. She’s just another cranially-challenged actor with hard Left leanings—add her to the pile. She’s a diminutive Susan Sarandon, for crying out loud.

Okay, Ms. Field. You don’t like the Iraq War. In fact, you hate it so much that your speech on the topic got censored. Big deal.

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” hated that horrible movie about stand-up comedy you did with Tom Hanks. You know the one we mean—the film in which the writers for some reason thought your lame hausfrau yuks were bearable. “Punchline,” was it? Yeah: That was “Smoky and the Bandit” awful.

Not only do we loathe that film—and your lame performance in it—we detest it so strongly that we need to censor ourselves from commenting on it fully. Aha! We’re even. You hate the Iraq War; we hate your lousy acting.

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September 17, 2007

The Foolproof Guide to Anti-Bush Mania

As you may well know, dear reader, George W. Bush is still president of these here United States of America. And let’s be honest: To many, many people all across this great land of ours, that’s unfortunate.

Few are more upset about current political vicissitudes, dear reader, than those with a nasty case of Anti-Bush Mania. You know the sort of folks we mean: The kind of people who vote for Dennis Kucinich, wear lots of hemp, and believe in all kinds of diversity—except for a diversity of opinion.

Yep, to those folks—who have many a prominent perch on Al Gore’s Internet—the ongoing presidency of George W. Bush is nothing short of an Orwellian nightmare. Thanks to the current administration, all sorts of horrors are being unleashed on us all: Little Navaho children are being needlessly tortured; the government is spying on all third-graders; Twinkies are now forbidden; &c.

To make matters worse, there have been a few glimmers of promise for the Bush administration in recent weeks. Although the jury is most assuredly not out, the situation in Iraq is steadily improving, as the surge begins to work. Even such obvious Bush-haters as The New York Times editorial page and Katie Couric are begrudgingly admitting the recent success.

Further, no terrorist attacks have taken place on American soil post-9/11 (knock on wood). In fact, our government has even stopped a plot here or there—none of which appears to have been in a particularly advanced stage.

All of this quite naturally leads to the following quandary: What’s a Bush-hating nutter to do about this unfortunate good news for the US? How can one manage to pump out the same message about a neo-fascist cabal currently destroying America if things keep on getting rosier?

Well, that’s where we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” come in. Our Official Great Ideas Department has—mirabile dictu—come up with a great idea, one that will aid our rabid left-wing pal.

We call it “The Foolproof Guide to Anti-Bush Mania” and we think it’ll be a real lifesaver. If we know anything about our hardcore left-wing pals, we know that they don’t much care for thinking. It’s far easier, after all, to brandish bromidic placards than to bother with all that messy cogitation.

So we do all your thinking for you. We provide the unfortunate circumstance, and we provide your sophomoric response as well. Here’s a little sample of the genius:

1) What do you say when…the US government catches a terrorist?

A) Inform your friends that this merely proves that law enforcement—not military solutions—is the true way to stop extremism.
2) What do you do when…the US government fails to catch a terrorist?

A) Blame the Bush administration for gross negligence. Is this the reason we handed over all our freedoms to the Bush junta?

3) What do you do when…violence in Iraq decreases?

A) Inform your buddies that this proves that American forces are not needed in Iraq and should head home posthaste.

4) What do you do when…violence in Iraq increases?

A) Inform you buddies that this proves that American forces are not needed in Iraq and should head home poasthaste.

What, friends, could be easier than our “Foolproof Guide to Anti-Bush Mania”? It’s a veritable start-up kit for the aspiring Mike Gravel supporter!

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September 14, 2007

The Fine Arts and the Paper of Record

As any literate human being well knows, The New York Times bills itself as “the Paper of Record.” Accordingly, the editorial eminences at this storied newspaper consider themselves the most important political and cultural arbiters in these here United States.

It is a matter of course, then, that folks turn to the arts section of said paper in order to take stock of the latest odds and ends in the world of high culture. After all, this is the Gray Lady—a newspaper for serious folks, not the halfwits who read The New York Post.

And what sort of high culture concerns the self-possessed media elites who run the Times? Well, on Thursday, September 13, the answer to that question appeared to be Britney Spears. But of course.

You see, dear reader, in this particular issue of the Paper of Record, an article concerning Ms. Spears graces page one, above the fold. Of all the events in the cultural universe, Britney Spears’ recent appearance at something called the MTV “Video Music Awards “ struck the snooty highbrows at the Times as the most crucial.

Well, consider us behind the times. Until we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” had read this deeply important article in the Times, we thought Britney Spears was some teeny-bop moron known more for her white-trash antics than any sort of worthwhile contribution to American music.

But that’s not how the Times sees it. Rather, “Spears’s Awards Fiasco Stirs Speculation about her Future,” a hand-wringing report by one Jeff Leeds (re-printed in The International Herald Tribune), seems almost comically serious about the pop singer’s banal antics.

You see, dear reader, Ms. Spears has performed poorly of late, leading some of her dimwitted fans to worry desperately about the erstwhile pop sensation. The Times’s Mr. Leeds reports:

With her first studio album in four years scheduled for release on Nov. 13, the music industry is debating whether Ms. Spears’s career can recover.

“Is she going to be the next Michael Jackson?” wondered Jay Marose, a former publicist for teen-pop acts like the Backstreet Boys.

Oooh, what a good question. We take it that Mr. Marose wonders if Ms. Spears, like Michael Jackson, will wind up as a homosexual pedophile. Who knows, who knows?

And here’s another good question: How can anyone tell when Britney Spears’ concerts are good? If you ask us, they’re all infantile garbage.

For a newspaper rather quick to chastise Rupert Murdoch’s tabloidization of national and international news, this strikes us as pathetically hypocritical. Why doesn’t the Paper of Record buck the trends and spend most of its energies on real music?

After all, if Britney’s career goes bust, it won’t exactly be a landmark moment in American music history. You’d think that the stuffed shirts at The New York Times would recognize this.

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September 13, 2007

More Business Genius from the Crack Young Staff

Oh, it was bound to happen. Perhaps you have heard, dear reader, that a volume called The Dangerous Book for Boys is all the rage. It seems as if everyone with a male child—and more than a few without, we’d wager—simply must get their hands on this neo-Victorian activity book.

As sure as death and taxes, moreover, feminists complained that this tome was disgracefully sexist. After all, it’s explicitly aimed at the stronger sex. How retardataire! (Apparently, our feminist friends aren’t too worried about women’s gyms and women’s colleges, the existence of which never seem to earn their ire.)

Accordingly, dear reader, we were thoroughly unsurprised to learn about The Daring Book for Girls, which is clearly an attempt to make some extra cash off of this whole fusty tomes for the young ‘uns craze. We’re sure that the Andrea Dworkins of the world can rest a little easier, knowing that a distaff answer to that misogynist volume for lads has appeared. (Although we’d bet that our feminist pals would like to see “killing of men” as an activity in The Daring Book for Girls. Now that’s daring.)

Still, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” do not think that publishers have made all the money one can from this sudden interest in turning children into dignified Edwardian tykes. A few years in American higher education has led us to propose another in the Daring and Dangerous Books series.

We call our creation The Darling Book for Hermaphrodites and we think it’ll sell like hotcakes—especially on college campuses with an LGBTQ center (that is to say, all campuses but Hillsdale and Baylor). Doesn’t it sound simply grand? After all, why can’t your little hermaphrodite read about the sort of activities that will make him/her into a fine Victorian man and/or woman?

We can’t think of a reason either.

Just think of the fun activities the book could promote. Given the origin of the word hermaphrodite, clearly a little Greek mythology is in order.

But why stop there? The tome could teach the budding he/she about some of the world’s most storied hermaphrodites in history.

You know: Like Andy Dick.

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September 12, 2007

Censorship, Thy Name is Hugo

As you well know, dear reader, George W. Bush is a fascist. Sure, he pretended to care about so-called terrorism, but he really used 9/11 as a pretext to begin his radical assault on our nation: Killing children; wire-tapping fuzzy bunnies; &c.

Or so you would believe from reading any number of left-wing “weblogs” here on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web. To the fevered lefty mind, George W. Bush is pretty much Mussolini—without the deep regard for archaeology or sartorial splendor.

And, naturally, given the evils of George W. Bush, many of our pals on the radical Left enjoy cheerleading for a world leader who virulently opposes our current Totalitarian-in-Chief. You know, the sort of fellow who champions free speech and dissent, and demonstrates how responsible world leaders ought to act.

Their man? Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez, naturally.

What a great choice, eh? Our left-wing buddies, exasperated by the purported secrecy of the dissent-crushing Bush junta, love saddling up to Saint Hugo, whose desire to stay in power for life only serves as another demonstration of his deep regard for democracy.

We mention this, dear reader, because the media have just reported yet another example of Saint Hugo’s charming open-mindedness. Those Bush-bashing radicals ought to have a great time apologizing for it. In its September 9 number, the editorial page at The Boston Globe reports:

As if Hugo Chavez doesn’t have enough ways to repress his countrymen, a new parliamentary edict has been introduced to prohibit Venezuelan parents from naming their newborns anything other than 100 officially sanctioned Spanish names. Fed up with whimsical, hard-to-pronounce, or politically incorrect monikers such as Haynhecht, Yornaichel, Hochminh, or (horrores!) Kennedy, officials want to go back to basics, according to The New York Times. Supporters of the legislation say it will protect children from ridicule. But efforts to purify cultures have not gone well historically. And what’s next? Venezuela itself is said to have been named by an Italian, Amerigo Vespucci, who in 1399 christened it “Little Venice.” Could “Chavezuala” be far behind?

Ah, Hugo Chavez: Unimpeachable multiculturalist. No wonder our friends on the far Left esteem him so much.

Just imagine if President Bush introduced legislation limiting Americans to 100 acceptably WASPy names for newborns. They’d sure love that, wouldn’t they?

So, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” can’t wait to hear how the pro-Chavez goons will spin this one.

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September 11, 2007

We Shall Never Forget

Longtime readers of this humble “weblog” may recognize that “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” is a humor “website.” Sure, on occasion it’s hard to tell. If by “on occasion” you mean “pretty much every day.” After all, we’re not exactly “Family Circus.”

As a “weblog” dedicated to the mirthful arts (if you will), “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” tends toward the silly and inconsequential. It is possible, for instance, that we have made more references to Phil Collins than can be found in any other corner of Al Gore’s Internet, save some wretched Phil Collins fan site.

That’s the sort of fluff that keeps this operation going. The more nugatory, the better. (Isn’t that the Milky Way bar’s slogan?)

Ah, but not today. Although some folks may wish to forget, this day marks the sixth anniversary of the horrific, dastardly attacks of 9/11. Accordingly, we’re dropping our usual studied frivolity in order to wax morose on that dark day in history.

According to lots of people, the perfect word to describe 9/11 is “tragedy.” If you ask us, you couldn’t be more wrong. A tsunami is a tragedy. A hurricane is a tragedy. Oedipus Rex is a tragedy (and a darn good one).

9/11 was not a tragedy. It was an act of pure evil. That’s right, postmodernists: Pure evil.

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” can already hear the clucks of the John Pilger-Noam Chomsky-Tariq Ali crowd. “9/11 was payback for Western imperialism!” Blah, blah, blah.

Frankly, dear reader, we find this sort of reflexive exoneration of non-Westerners disgusting—and racist. The same folks who hold up the US, Israel, and—more generally—the West to unrealistic moral expectations are the fools who refuse to make non-Westerners accountable for anything.

Did a few Palestinian thugs kill innocent civilians? Well, what else can you expect, cries the moronic leftist. As if it’s so terrible to expect moral behavior from the supposedly “oppressed.”

But enough of this blather. It is far more important on this day to remember the victims of Islamofascism and pray that they rest in peace. We shall never forget.

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September 10, 2007

“Hypocrite!” Cries the Hypocrite

Why, oh, why do we do it? As we have mentioned oft in this space, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” simply despise bumper stickers. These vehicular eyesores inevitably ruin our collective days.

And yet, for some unknown reason, upon spying the merest outline of another bumper sticker, we always do our level best to take a peek at it up-close. Although we ineluctably find them obtuse, we’ll go to great lengths to check out bumper stickers. Annoying, is it not?

Well, it certainly was the other day, when one of our senior editors—let’s just call him “Chip”—took a glance at an automobile brimming with bumper stickers. You know the type, dear reader: A compact car filled with more slogans than a peace rally.

What are the chances that “Chip” would enjoy any bumper sticker on such a vehicle? Just about nil, we’d wager. But this didn’t stop “Chip” from getting his gray Honda Civic good and close to this car, in an attempt to glance at sundry examples of liberal fatuity.

Oh, and it certainly paid off. Prominently placed on the automobile in question was the following slogan, which “Chip” had yet to see on other back bumpers:

Pro-Life and Pro-War? I’m Anti-Hypocrite, Thanks

Even judged amongst all the obnoxious and nonsensical bumper stickers we’ve seen, surely this sticks out as notably horrid.

First, we suppose we ought to mention that this bumper sticker offers rather twisted logic. In short, it charges those who oppose abortion yet support wars (any wars, we guess) with rank hypocrisy. Yet there are plenty of ways to describe this purported discrepancy without recourse to the word “hypocrisy.”

Certainly the taking of a life in a just war is different from performing an abortion. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” happen to be pro-choice, but we don’t for a moment believe that pro-lifers must be ardent pacifists. It’s more than a bit ridiculous to assert that you can’t be pro-life because, say, you supported America’s defeat of Nazi Germany on the battlefield.

Ah, but the bumper sticker gets even more fatuous. For, if the owner of this sticker believes that being pro-life and pro-war is hypocritical, this of necessity makes being pro-choice and anti-war hypocritical as well.

Now, we guess that it’s within the realm of possibility that the person who stuck this slogan on his or her car is either pro-life and anti-war or pro-choice and pro-war, and hence would not be considered a hypocrite by the dubious illogic of this bumper sticker. But the other stickers on this car made it crystal clear that the automobile’s owner is ardently pro-choice and anti-war.

Gosh, this moron is calling himself or herself a hypocrite, and doesn’t even realize it. Boy, that’s really, really dumb.

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September 07, 2007

An Intriguing Offer

As you might well imagine, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” receive all manner of e-mails. In fact, one of our crack young interns—let’s just call her “Chip”—spends her entire workdays sorting through and dealing with our voluminous correspondence.

For some reason, we get our share of interesting business deals from Nigerians. Go figure. Who would have guessed that Nigeria is home to such an impressive entrepreneurial spirit? Not us, not us.

We would be remiss if we failed to mention the fact that we also receive lots of fan mail. You know, the sort of stuff that reads: “Oh, crack young staff, I wish you were my daughters.” Or words to that general effect.

Every once in a great while, however, some yahoo or other sends us a fetching exemplum of hate mail. These folks don’t like our e-antics very much, and have taken it upon themselves to hammer us. If you ask us, it’s entirely reasonable to complain about the delicate arguments appearing on a “website” called “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly.” With a name like that, wouldn’t you expect intellectual care and seriousness? We would, we would.

A few days ago, dear reader, an even more interesting piece of e-mail flew its way into our e-mail pile. We’re not exactly sure how, but someone with the name of Regina Whitlock tracked us down and decided…to offer us a job. Here’s her full missive in question:


Dating company wants to offer you the job with the profitable conditions.

We are looking for the trustworthy persons with excellent organizational and communicative skills. These skills will help you and us to earn money. This is the part-time job, which can be combined with any permanent or other part-time job. No special experience is necessary.

There are different kinds of a part time job that our company offers. If you are interested with our suggestion write on
Thank you, good bye.

P.S. in your reply could please note the country you live in.

We know what you are thinking, dear reader: This sounds like a fantastic opportunity. Although you might heartily disagree, we strongly believe that the best job opportunities are those “with the profitable conditions.”

No wonder this esteemed dating company (?) hopes to employ people with superior “communicative skills.” It seems as if Ms. Whitlock has a bit of trouble with English. Perhaps she too is a Nigerian businessman?

Sadly, though, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” already have “permanent or other part-time job[s],” and haven’t any extra hours to spend with a dating company. But we magnanimously pass on the job notice to you, in case you’re interested.

Just tell Ms. Whitlock that the crack young staff sent you.

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September 06, 2007

Martian Eyewear

Everyone on God’s green earth (which is, we might add, heating up at an alarming rate) seems to despise rich little Paris Hilton. (A few people despise Rich Little, but that’s the topic for another “post.”) It appears as if one simply can’t turn anywhere without taking in some vitriolic response to the pampered heiress’s shenanigans. In many circles, Ms. Hilton is less popular than herpes—or Rob Schneider.

Now, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” consider this all well and good—up to a point. Clearly, Ms. Hilton is on the vapid, sluttish side of the visible spectrum, and so it’s nice to see that her drink-addled antics have ruffled some American feathers.

All the same, we couldn’t help but notice that this orgy of Hilton-bashing (Paris Hilton, not Hilton Kramer) is a bit facile, a bit easy. We can all point to Ms. Hilton as the veritable Goddess of Wealthy Classlessness, but how many of us would—if we possessed Ms. Hilton’s riches—act in a similarly unflattering manner?

We mention this, dear reader, as the result of our noticing something that figuratively tends to fly past our figurative radar screens. A handful of perambulations round any major city will demonstrate that young gals—and some not so young gals—are taken with a style of sunglasses one could best describe as Martian.

You know the sort of thing we mean: Big, bug-eyed glasses. The type of eyewear that may seem hip nowadays, but, a few years hence, will look like spectacles’ answer to bell bottoms and wide ties. Mark our collective words: People will soon laugh at such glasses with disbelief. Wiping the tears of joy from their eyes, they’ll ask themselves: “How could girls want to look so stupid?”

So far, you might notice, we have yet to make our eyewear-Paris Hilton connection. But the astute reader will see it coming all along. More than any other celebrity (or faux celebrity), these bug sunglasses are associated in the popular imagination with Paris Hilton. Sure, Nicole Ritchie too, but primarily with Ms. Hilton. For some reason, the heiress just can’t get enough of these ugly things.

Why, one might reasonably wonder, would gals pine to look like a woman so thoroughly despised in the popular press? What makes them excoriate Ms. Hilton’s antics one moment and hunt for Paris-like eyewear the next?

Oh, the hypocrisy! Although few would admit it, we have the hunch that many women feel a twinge of Paris Envy. And, sadly enough, it’s sufficiently bad to compel them to wear Marvin the Martian’s sunglasses.

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September 05, 2007

Katie Couric: Neocon?

Is Katie Couric Jewish? We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” sure didn’t think so. After all, she looks about as Jewish as Conan O’Brien. Or, for that matter, Conan the Barbarian.

And yet, to the Daily Kossacks and other purveyors of zany Internet leftism, Katie Couric simply must be Jewish. The reason? She thinks things are looking far, far better in Iraq.

As some Jew named Matt Drudge reports on his obscure pro-Zionist “website,” Ms. Couric has recently used her (mini-)bully pulpit at CBS News to report from Baghdad. And, as far as Ms. Couric is concerned, the improvements in the country are dramatic.

In fact, a CBS affiliate reports the following:

We hear so much about things going bad, but real progress has been made there in terms of security and stability," Couric said Tuesday. "I mean, obviously, infrastructure problems abound, but Sunnis and U.S. forces are working together. They banded together because they had a common enemy: al Qaeda."…

"The spike in police has really been significant," Couric said. "The incidents in Iraq have gone down dramatically."

Well, well, well: Sign Ms. Couric up for a spot at the American Enterprise Institute! Give her Irving Kristol’s office! She’s a regular hardcore Bush patsy, isn’t she?

Although of course, dear reader, it’s far too early to tell, it appears as if America and its allies’ perseverance in Iraq may just pay off. Perhaps we’ll establish a functioning democracy there after all.

This should be the hope of all moral human beings. A stable, powerful democratic Iraq will be a great boon for the Middle East and a great boon for the world. For this reason, this part of the world’s odious thugocracies—principally Iran and Syria—are fighting very hard to ensure our failure. Ah, but, in the inimitable words of the Beatles, things are getting better all the time.

What will the loony Left say about this mainstream media apostasy? Will they attempt to frog-march Ms. Couric from the hallowed halls of left-wing journalism?

We’re not sure. But we have the funny feeling that a few left-wing “webloggers” will pontificate on Ms. Couric’s purported Jewishness and her nefarious ties to Israel. After all, isn’t that what a serious political movement does?

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September 04, 2007

Totally Infra Dig

About fifteen minutes into watching John Tucker Must Die on the Home Box Office channel, an obvious thought occurred to “Chip”: What in God’s name are you doing? “Chip”—a senior editor here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—was viewing a movie aimed at retarded tween girls, after all. How much lower can one sink?

We mean, come on. For those of you blissfully unaware of this John Tucker picture, allow us to inform you that it is even beneath the dignity of the average 20-year-old girl. Its lame high school high jinks would make a subscriber to Teen Vogue call for the sick bag. The writers of “Saved by the Bell” are veritable Prousts by comparison.

But here was “Chip,” Bachman Pretzel Rods snug in his hand, vapidly taking in a film too stupid to be labeled a “chick flick.” You couldn’t even call John Tucker Must Die a movie for women without (justly) engendering the wrath of feminists.

We know what you’re thinking, dear reader: How has “Chip” sunk so low? What makes him waste his precious time on God’s rapidly warming earth on this arrant piffle? What compels him to use words like “arrant piffle”?

Good questions, those. And if we had the answers, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are pretty sure we’d be millionaires. If you ask us, most Americans oft find themselves magically stuck in some sort of malignant entertainment rut. Call it the postmodern bane of the bourgeoisie.

Now, this doesn’t serve to excuse “Chip” for his obviously appalling viewing habits. Even an afternoon of Nickelodeon and the Disney Channel seems highbrow in comparison with the sordid palaver he occasionally views.

Still, one wonders how “Chip”—or any other people, for that matter—finds himself in such a predicament in the first place. Poor use of leisure time is kind of like heroin and hookers: One moment—as if by magic—you suddenly come to the realization that you’re doing something awful, but you have no idea how it happened. You just regain consciousness and recognize—as if for the first time—that Bob Saget is staring you in the face.

How the heck did that happen? We don’t even like “Full House”—not even in a Susan Sontag “it’s so bad it’s good” way. Except, of course, for one of the actor’s impressive mullets. Man, that relief pitcher hair’s a real gas.

Well, we suppose it’s not so terrible. After all, it may resemble horrible addictions in some respects, but coming to the realization that you’re completely wasting your time by watching “Celebrity Fit Club” still isn’t as horrible as PCP. It’s close, of course, but it’s still not that bad.

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September 03, 2007

Oh, Grow Up

Longtime reader(s) of this humble “weblog” recognize that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” despise so-called popular music. Not, we dare say, of the Tin Pan Alley days. Nope: We mean the aural detritus commonly known as rock-‘n-roll. If you ask us, the stuff should be called children’s music.

Now, don’t get us wrong: We enjoy a bit of musical slumming now and again, and thus have been known to tune in to a bit of pop garbage. But we fully recognize it’s worthless tripe, far from the level of, say, Bach, Beethoven, Miles Davis, Bill Evans, et al. Not to put too fine a point on it, it is, in a word, crap.

For some reason, our opinion on rock music is perhaps the most controversial stance we’ve taken on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web. We can natter on about the horrors of a particular political candidate; we can ramble on about the evils of mulitculturalism; we can laugh at the inanities of political correctness—and few readers trouble us with angry e-mails. But rip on Phil Collins and all heck breaks loose.

Although we haven’t devoted much thought to this issue, we have the sneaking suspicion that the vehement views on rock music pertain to peoples’ irritation at being labeled aesthetic Neanderthals. By ridiculing pop music, we’re essentially ripping on peoples’ taste, and that deeply troubles lots of folks.

But maybe the matter relates to matters of age as well. We say this, dear reader, in part because of a recent run-in that one of our junior editors—let’s just call him “Chip”—just experienced. After a long day at the Hatemonger’s Quarterly Headquarters, “Chip” headed out to meet a friend at a local watering hole.

This friend happened to show up at said local watering hole with a few acquaintances in tow. Among the acquaintances was a female co-worker of 40—well older than young “Chip,” of course. Even so, this lady struck “Chip” as rather sophomoric.

Clad in an all-black getup, the lass sported a backpack with what looked like a hastily scrawled cartoon. The scribbles featured a little kid repeatedly shouting the word “f***” (with the letters standing in for asterisks, naturally). So here was a 40-year-old white-collar worker who dresses like an alienated high school student. Seeing her, “Chip” thought to himself, “Oh, grow up.”

But, naturally, such people don’t want to grow up. They pine to be identified as young and hip forever. Maybe that’s why they resolutely refuse to allow their tastes—musical and otherwise—to grow?

Well, there’s our two cents. Now we’ll just sit back and watch the hate mail roll in.

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