November 30, 2007

Re-Connecting with the Universe

Much like sundry other Americans, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” never watch beauty competitions. They are, in a word, boring. All they seem to accomplish is making upper-middle class women more anorexic and all men more despondent. And, we hasten to add, we consider both of these things bad.

Sure, sure, sure: There are plenty of pretty women on display at the typical beauty pageant. Except, of course, for Miss Massachusetts, who is invariably a total schnauzer. Why is it that every Miss Massachusetts must be a spitting image of Kitty Dukakis?

Anyway, we have recently heard news about a recent beauty pageant that made us potentially change our minds. Sure, we still hate the odious “talent” competitions and the unparalleled stupidity of the interviews with the ladies (“I hunger for world peace!). Still, if future contests run much like the 2008 Miss Universe, we may tune in to a few beauty pageants in the future.

Now, allow us first and foremost to register a complaint about the whole Miss Universe thing. As far as we can tell, the name for said contest is entirely bogus: We’ve never even spied an entrant from Venus, let alone a winner. And Miss Mercury hasn’t arrived either.

In essence, we consider the Miss Universe contest a horrid example of knuckle-dragging geocentricity. Copernicus would be ashamed.

And yet, can one really detest a concert at which the following occurs:

SAN JUAN, Puerto Rico - Beauty pageant organizers were investigating Sunday who doused a contestant's evening gowns with pepper spray and spiked her makeup, causing her to break out in hives.
Beauty queen Ingrid Marie Rivera beat 29 rivals to become the island's 2008 Miss Universe contestant, despite applying makeup and wearing evening gowns that had been coated with pepper spray, pageant spokesman Harold Rosario said.
Rivera was composed while appearing before cameras and judges throughout the competition. But once backstage, she had to strip off her clothes and apply ice bags to her face and body, which swelled and broke out in hives twice.
"We thought at first it was an allergic reaction, or maybe nerves," Rosario said. "But the second time, we knew it couldn't have been a coincidence."
Rivera's clothing and makeup later tested positive for pepper spray.

Finally, a little excitement at the ole’ Miss Universe. If this pageant turned into some sort of dirty tricks convention, you can be darn sure we’d watch it with our eyes glued to the set.

Even if Jimmy Kimmel were the host.

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November 29, 2007

Positively Clintonian

Every day, it seems, the presidential campaign trail offers up new news. Mike Huckabee has lost even more weight; Barack Obama is an empty suit; Dennis Kucinich has seen yet another UFO—these are the sorts of important stories those attuned to the presidential struggle learn.

And here comes a new—and positively shocking—tidbit: Bill Clinton didn’t exactly tell the truth when he recently stated, in the course of cheerleading for his wife’s candidacy, he opposed the Iraq War from the very start. Even The New York Times, the unofficial booster of all things Clintonian, couldn’t quite bail the former president out of this remark.

After all, it isn’t quite—to use a word with which Bill Clinton shows little familiarity—true that he was dead-set against the Iraq War, though he did hope for a longer period of time for weapons inspectors to do their job. And thus—perish the thought!—it turns out that the former president was playing a little fast and loose with the truth.

As you might well imagine, the television chat shows are all abuzz about this tidbit of information. And, as you also might imagine, the folks at Fox News are the most enthusiastic about pushing this story. Bill Clinton lied! Bill Clinton lied!

Well, gee: Color us completely surprised. Bill Clinton isn’t a beacon of veracity? What will they tell us next, that he also isn’t a dedicated monogamist?

Now, don’t get us wrong, dear reader: We firmly believe that Bill Clinton was, overall, a decent president when it came to matters of domestic policy. The 1996 welfare reform bill was a grand success, and the economy was good.

Sure, Slick Willy wasn’t as effective on the foreign policy front. Yasir “She’s My Baby” Arafat single-handedly demolished his Herculean efforts to solve the Israeli-Palestinian situation. Further, Bill Clinton quixotically treated Islamist terrorism as a law enforcement issue—which led to its great escalation during his tenure.

Still, President Clinton did remove Milosevic from the Balkans, and he did so without turning to the UN Security Council for a vote. So he wasn’t all bad.

But news that he isn’t exactly a latter-day George Washington? Oh, come on! That isn’t news at all.

Pretty soon, they’ll tell us that Rudy Giuliani has had a few wives. Boy, won’t that startling revelation turn a few heads.

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November 28, 2007

The Pigeon Lobby

As everyone who doesn’t read frighteningly right-wing magazines such as Newsweek, Time, and The New Republic well knows, Jews run the world. It’s unfortunate, perhaps, but it’s true: In this day and age, only Zionist-approved people and products succeed.

Hence the career of Pauly Shore—surely one of the most disgusting examples of Israeli control imaginable. Have you seen one of this clown’s insipid movies? Man, they make Carrot Top look like Orson Welles.

Of course, dear reader, we’re not telling you anything that fancy researchers at fancy schools such as Harvard and the University of Chicago haven’t said. And, unlike us, said researchers have done so with copious footnotes referring to such fancy “websites” as Counterpunch. Heck: If you can’t trust Alexander Cockburn, whom can you trust?

Yet, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” do not intend to leave you with the (erroneous) impression that our Hebrew friends run the universe without any competition. There are, it seems, numerous other Lobbies out there (note the insidious capitalization), which give the Jews a proverbial run for their non-proverbial money.

And we’re not just talking about Gore Vidal.

Allow us to offer you one small example. Thanks to the efforts of a charming “weblog” called “The Colossus of Rhodey,” we learned of the following story, which appeared in the august pages of The New York Post:

November 16, 2007 -- In calling pigeons "flying rats," City Council Speaker Christine Quinn might as well have used "the n-word," an animal-rights group charged yesterday.

After Brooklyn Councilman Simcha Felder this week proposed fining pigeon feeders $1,000, Quinn said she had "no use" for the "flying rats."

Urban Wildlife Coalition founder Johana Clearfield wrote Quinn, slamming her as "clueless," since "pigeons have nothing in common with rats" - and calling her comment an "epithet . . . much like the n-word."

Behold the power of the Pigeon Lobby. Refer to our fine feathered friends as rats, and someone will liken you to a Klansman.

We wonder if Ms. Quinn had black pigeons in mind. That sickening racist.

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November 27, 2007

Hugo Chavez Questions Their Patriotism

Ah, Hugo Chavez, Venezuela’s scrappy and garrulous President, is a gift that keeps on giving. Without fail, we love to return to his nefarious antics, because they—time and time again—demonstrate the rank hypocrisy of far leftists who complain about President Bush’s eroding of civil liberties.

Simply put, Hugo Chavez makes George W. Bush look like democracy itself. Hence the difficulty for our far Left pals: They pretend to support civil liberties and to loathe the quashing of dissent, and thus they must twist themselves into mental pretzels in order to cheerlead for the odious President Chavez.

Amongst the complaints of our far Left friends, surely the one most commonly heard relates to right-wing charges of insufficient patriotic fervor. The Right, claim our far Left friends, is incessantly questioning our patriotism. And this is disgusting.

Well, take a look at the latest news on Hugo Chavez, the far Left’s peerless democrat:

CARACAS, Venezuela (AP) - President Hugo Chavez warned his supporters on Friday that anyone voting against his proposed constitutional changes would be a "traitor," rallying his political base before a referendum that would let him seek unlimited re-election in 2012 and beyond.

Brandishing a little red book listing his desired 69 revisions to Venezuela's charter, Chavez exhorted his backers to redouble their efforts toward a victorious "yes" vote in the Dec. 2 ballot.

"He who says he supports Chavez but votes 'no' is a traitor, a true traitor," the president told an arena packed with red-clad supporters. "He's against me, against the revolution and against the people."

His speech followed the recent high-profile defection of his former Defense Minister Gen. Raul Baduel, a longtime ally who called the president's proposed reforms a "coup." Others have also broken with the Chavista movement in recent months, including politicians of the small left-leaning party Podemos.

Chavez's opponents accuse him of concentrating power and seeking to be president-for-life like his close friend Fidel Castro of Cuba. Chavez insists he will only stay on as long as Venezuelans continue to vote for him.

"If you don't approve (the referendum), maybe we'll have time for a parachute jump in five years," Chavez, a former paratrooper, told the crowd. "But if you wish—if you approve the referendum—I will stay as long as God wills! Until the last bone of my skeleton dries out!"

The proposed revisions would do away with presidential term limits, extend terms from six to seven years, let Chavez appoint regional vice presidents and eliminate Central Bank authority, among other changes.

What a delight: If you vote against his obvious power grab, you are a “traitor” to your country. Now there’s somebody who really understands the meaning of encouraging dissent. To our far Left friends, apparently, “dissent is patriotic,” provided it’s not aimed at a fledgling left-wing tyrant.

Just imagine if dumb ole’ George Bush informed voters that a failure to vote for a favored referendum made you a “traitor.” Would Katha Pollitt ever shut up about that? No. But our friends on the far Left will do their best to ignore Hugo’s shenanigans; it’s the only thing that’ll stop them from severe cognitive dissonance.

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November 26, 2007

In Praise of the Serious Press

As every literate American knows, The New York Times bills itself as the Paper of Record. In fact, this datum is so well known that even a few non-literate folks (i.e., college students) recognize it.

Accordingly, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” turn to the Gray Lady with great regularity for rousing reflections on the sober and important stories of the day. This ain’t The New York Post or The Sun, after all, and thus we can expect serious coverage of serious topics.

The November 23 number of the Times carries a perfect example of what we mean. The irrepressible (yet often repressed) Jodi Kantor offers a report in said issue that sports the appealing title “Where the Votes Are, So Are the Calories.”

A very useful piece, don’t you think? The dedicated editors and editrixes at the Times sure thought so, and thus offered it prominent placement on their paper’s “website.” Clearly, this is the sort of thing that the Paper of Record needs to record.

Don’t believe us? Then take in the first few paragraphs of Ms. Kantor’s crucial election coverage:

Running for president is like entering a competitive eating contest and a beauty pageant all at once. Candidates are expected to eat local specialties often and with gusto, yet still look attractive and fit.

So it is no wonder that many of this year’s candidates have what might be called food issues — the same kinds that plague the rest of us, especially at this time of year, but exacerbated by the brutal demands of campaign life.

The Democratic contenders include Gov. Bill Richardson, a veteran of the Atkins and liquid diets who wears a double chin despite daily workouts. Senator Barack Obama, who was chubby as a child, refers to himself as skinny in speeches and barely touches fatty foods — except at events like the Iowa State Fair, where he ate caramel corn, pork and a corn dog for the cameras. At one campaign event, Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton said she prayed to God to help her lose weight.

We know what you’re thinking, dear reader: Thanks, New York Times, for such serious coverage of important political matters. Personally, we don’t give a darn where the candidates stand on the important issues of the day; rather, we care only about their weight loss strategies.

After all, Ms. Kantor’s article is of potentially great use to the millions and millions of us who are planning to run for president but who hadn’t contemplated the ways in which such a candidacy might effect our waistlines. If that isn’t helpful, we collectively don’t know what is.

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November 23, 2007

Barack Obama: The Great White Hope

By now, dear reader, you have undoubtedly heard the news: Sen. Barack Obama (D-Sidney Poitier) has been making up lots and lots of ground on Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-Philandering Husband). For the umpteen members of the mainstream media who have clearly favored Obama all along, this is most certainly delightful news.

Now, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must admit that we were originally a tad upset by this recent turn of events. After all, as far as the Democratic presidential hopefuls are concerned, we consider ourselves Biden men and women.

Sure, sure, sure: We have a far better shot of winning the presidency than this hair-plugged, plagiarizing gaffe machine. But, come on: The fellow knows a thing or two about foreign policy, which strikes us as somewhat relevant in this day and age.

Accordingly, good news for Obama is certainly bad news for Sen. Biden. And it ain’t too pleasant for Dennis Kucinich, either, whose UFO sightings outnumber his non-Nation-reading supporters.

But we must say that the recent surge (if you will) in support for Obama troubles us because we far prefer Sen. Clinton to the other two leading Democratic candidates (Obama and some keen-looking fellow with really, really nice hair). We know, we know: Sen. Clinton leaves a lot to be desired. Her views on the Middle East seem to change more often than her pants-suits.

Still, Sen. Clinton strikes us as pragmatic and comparatively moderate on foreign policy, which seems decent enough for us. She’s no Lieberman or Ben Nelson, but she sure beats the heck out of John Edwards.

And thus we originally found ourselves a bit miffed that Sen. Obama has improved his fortunes so much. After all, as far as we can determine, the junior Senator from Illinois has distinguished himself for only two things: Uttering mind-numbing platitudes that would make the average politician blush and speaking ill-advisedly on matters of foreign policy.

This, for example, was the guy who claimed he would blithely chat up Iran with no preconditions, right after he bombed Pakistan into the Stone Age. Well, that sounds pretty reasonable, doesn’t it? Tell us more about your deep-seated political wisdom, Sen. Obama.

Can Hillary beat this empty suit? We don’t know, but we hope she has the audacity to hope so.

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November 21, 2007

Tim McCarver

A wise man once said that timing is everything. We’re not sure if said wise man particularly referred to the “rhythm method” so popular—and effective—in Latin American countries, but his apothegm is helpful nevertheless.

And why not? We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” can think of plenty of things that require good timing. Hand grenades, for one. Tennis, for another. The aforementioned rhythm method, for yet another.

We mention this, dear reader, because our timing (or e-timing, if you will) tends toward the impeccable. Without fail, we refer to people and events only when the American public no longer cares about them.

For instance, whilst everyone else is talking about, say, Britney Spears, we’re busy gabbing about Christopher Cross. Whatever happened to him? Nobody wants to know but we—or so it seems.

We make note of this unfortunate particularity, dear reader, because we have managed—as if by magic—to do it again. Yes, the topic for today’s demolition is already old news, since the baseball season is good and over.

Our “post,” therefore, will read much like a savage demolition of Sen. Paul Simon. Geez: Didn’t Cicero say something about speaking well of the dead? And why not rip on the musician Paul Simon instead? Clearly Garfunkle was the talent behind that operation. And his hair was far superior.

But we digress—and rather un-entertainingly, if we must say so ourselves. The topic of today’s serious lucubration is Tim McCarver, a baseball analyst for the Fox Television Network.

Perhaps, dear reader, you have caught a bit of the MLB playoffs. If so, congratulations: You’re a prol just like us. In addition, you should be doubly congratulated for enduring the scabrous nonsense dribbling from the mouth of Mr. McCarver, the color commentator from hell.

Now, don’t get us wrong. Although it seems easy, the ability to serve as a color commentator and not irritate the snot out of us appears to be the most difficult gig in all of professional sports. Have you ever heard Joe Morgan? That guy may have been a great player, but he’s a complete boob.

At least Joe Morgan is a genial guy, however. But not Tim McCarver, baseball broadcasting’s answer to Billy Packer. He’s incessantly obnoxious, regularly ridiculing players, managers, and umpires for failing to live up to the heady standards of the great Tim McCarver.

To which the proper response is: Oh, shut up. If you were such a baseball genius, you wouldn’t be stuck in a little booth dangerously close to Joe Buck, now would you?

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November 20, 2007

Sharing a Moment with the “Reality-Based Community”

As even The New York Times and its less deranged cousin, The Washington Post, have reported of late, the “surge” in Iraq has thus far proved a remarkable success. Deaths in Iraq are down dramatically; attacks are down; areas previously disastrous are in far better shape.

It appears as if the efforts of American and allied troops, led by a general whose name we forget but which rhymes with “Betray Us,” have been rather effective. The Iraq War, previously the albatross of the Republican Party, may not be such a dreaded issue for conservative hopefuls in the upcoming presidential election.

And how has this affected our friends on the political Left? Well, it appears as if not much has altered the worldview of those who sanctimoniously deem themselves members of the “reality-based community.” Reality, it seems, isn’t very, for lack of a better word, real.

For one thing, the Democratic presidential hopefuls appear to be engaged in endless one-upsmanship over the supposed horrors of the Iraq War. “My opponent hates the Iraq War, whereas I really hate it,” says one left-wing candidate or other. Seldom do these professional panderers make nods to the situation on the ground, other than to kick up a fuss about how quickly they’d remove the troops—and to chastise Hillary Clinton for making delicate nods toward reality.

Nope: It seems as if our Democratic hopefuls, despite their dangerously expensive haircuts, are busy doing their best Jack Murtha impressions.

And the Angry Left? How are they managing? Well, gee: We’re glad you asked.

Naturally, these beacons of “social justice” are committed to the same anti-Iraq platform that animated their hemp T-Shirts from the get-go. If by “anti-Iraq platform” you mean freeing Mumia, destroying Israel, and fighting the purported evils of worldwide capitalism.

At capitulation rallies all across Blue America, one sees the same “Impeach Bush-Hitler,” “Love Your Fellow Man, Kill the Jews,” and “Give Islamofascism a Chance” placards. And, yes, they still warm our little hearts as much as before.

One wonders when such folks will bow to reality and recognize that their hated conflict isn’t such a disaster after all. Will they finally carry signs that read “No Mildly Successful War for Oil”?

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November 19, 2007

The Best That Has Been Un-Thought and Un-Said

As you undoubtedly recognize, dear reader, lots and lots of Americans attend college. If you’re a card-carrying member of the upper-middle class, you’re pretty much obliged to head to a university. Fail to do so, and it’s safe to say that you’re the official black sheep of the family.

Accordingly, oodles and oodles of colleges and universities are positively chock-a-block with students. And not only fancy-pants schools such as Andover Tractor Trailer, which teaches you how to ride the big rigs. Nope: Even lesser esteemed liberal arts colleges pull in their fair share of undergraduates.

Naturally, this has amounted to the great democratization of the liberal arts. Thanks originally to the GI Bill (and GI Joe, that great American hero), such schools are not only the provenance of Cotton Mather-esque elites. Nowadays, any ole’ schlub can head to a liberal arts school, provided he’s willing to shell out lots and lots of cash.

This has led numerous parents to ask the quintessential question about the value of liberal arts education: What the hell are you going to do with that degree? Ah, if only Matthew Arnold could have phrased it so mellifluously.

Yes, yes, yes: As we all know, “liberal arts” is merely a fancy term for “pre-professional education.” And thus the typical knuckle-dragging soccer mom is quite right to wonder what sort of career her little Johnny or Suzie will embark on after her four years prostrate to the higher keg.

Well, wonder no longer. After literally minute of painstaking research, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have determined the best uses for a liberal arts education—given the current interests and talents of the typical undergraduate.

So, just take a gander at our exquisitely impressive list of employment opportunities, and wonder no longer about the great value of American higher education:

An Official List of Potential Employment Opportunities for the American Liberal Arts College Graduate as composed by the Crack Young Staff

1) Trust-fund baby

2) Dirty hippie

3) Alcoholic beverage taster

4) Illiterate hobo

5) Cheech or Chong

6) Acquaintance rapist

7) Squatter

Well, there you have it, dear reader: An intriguing panoply of job options for the typical liberal arts college graduate and his brown banana of a liver.

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November 16, 2007

Debate This, Feminists

As of this writing, dear reader, the Democratic contenders for the presidency of these here United States of America are soon to take their podiums and begin some high-minded partisan mud-slinging. And we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” think that this is desperately unfair—at least in one particular case.

Allow us to elaborate, if you will. Perhaps you know that Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-Whitewater) finds herself amongst the Democratic candidates. Further, you may well recognize that her rivals’ purported “ganging up” on Sen. Clinton in a previous debate caused a fair amount of feminist hand wringing.

Gee: Feminist hand wringing. That must be the only example of that phenomenon in recent memory. After al, feminists are always so blissfully content.

The men are treating Hillary unfairly, claimed Geraldine Ferraro, who graciously poked her head out from the rock she lives under in order to make this useful remark. Clearly, according to Ms. Ferraro (D-Didn’t Help Mondale), grilling the Democratic front-runner was tantamount to virulent sexism.

And we want to take things one giant step further. If you ask us, Barack Obama, John Edwards, Dennis Kucinich, and those other inveterate males are nothing but a gaggle of modern-day Andy Capps. How dare they challenge a woman!

As a result, we have come to the reasonable conclusion that it is deeply unfair for Sen. Clinton to take part in any debates. After all, she’s a woman: She shouldn’t very well be treated with the same lack of decorum one associates with male political rivals.

Forthwith, we call upon the Democratic National Committee (and Howard Dean, if we recall correctly) to put a stop to this Hillary-Is-Debating nonsense. It’s blatantly misogynistic and absurd.

Sen. Clinton—as a woman—should have the right to wend her way to the White House without being forced to dodge the slings and arrows of outrageous candidates. Such misfortunes are the lot of white men, not women and minorities.

Nor, in the case of Dennis Kucinich, slightly off-kilter elves.

If you don’t agree with us, dear reader, never fear: It’s only because you’re a sexist bastard.

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November 15, 2007

The Naked “Weblogger”

A recent perusal of the television dial compelled us to note something surprising: There are a whole lot of shows these days that feature the word “naked.” As far as we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” could intuit, the following programs can be seen in your living room: “The Naked Chef,” “The Naked Architect,” “The Naked Greengrocer,” “The Naked Jai-Lai Enthusiast,” &c.

Now, we aren’t normally ones to get all hot and bothered about such lascivious titles. After all, television is pretty much a lowest-common-denominator genre, and it would be foolish to get one’s dander up about a few programs with prurient names.

But here, we think, is the rub: Of all the umpteen shows that sport the “naked” title, not one of them features nudity. You read that right, dear reader: Not one of them.

This strikes us as militantly annoying. You can’t very well title your show “The Naked Plumber” and then fail to parade this particular blue-collar craftsman without his proverbial blue collar! You can’t put “The Naked Hairdresser” on the air and then cut out the pictures of her in the buff.

It’s just not bloody fair, now is it? We’re talking about nudity, after all. This is not the time to get all metaphorical on us.

We mean, come on: At least have the decency to label the show “The Scantily-Clad Chef.” Sure, the appearance of a fully-clothed cook will still rankle, but it won’t be as galactically upsetting as it is with “The Naked Chef” moniker.

It’s a crime, if you ask us. And the FCC should drop its whole Janet Jackson’s Boob thing and get on it pronto. Shouldn’t the government enforce truth in advertising?

Perhaps we, taking a page out of the sordid book of television executives, should call ourselves the crack young naked staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”? Or we can go one better: The crack young naked and nubile staff.

Or, even better: The crack young naked, nubile, and frightened staff. That all may be completely bogus, but, if it drags in a few extra perverted goons, apparently it’ll all be worth it.

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November 14, 2007

The Crack Young Staff as Plants

Perhaps, dear reader, you have heard the news that Hillary Rodham Clinton (D-Frosted Bangs) recently found herself in a bit of hot water. In addition to performing poorly in a Philadelphia debate amongst Democratic presidential hopefuls, Sen. Clinton angered most of the non-Andrea-Dworkin-loving populace by blaming her troubles on her gender.

To make matters worse, a little “website” called the Drudge Report broke the news that the Clinton campaign has at least once employed students as plants for speaking events in Iowa. Now, when we say “employed students as plants,” don’t think we’re going to make some lame gag about ferns.

Nope: At least one young woman was compelled by the Clintonistas to offer some pre-screened question, which Sen. Clinton presumably (and figuratively) hit out of the ballpark. Like any pro, it seems, Sen. Clinton has gained a wide following by rehearsing and rehearsing and rehearsing her spontaneity.

This has, naturally enough, got us to wonder: Why aren’t we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” asked to be plants for Sen. Clinton? Why must her campaign stoop to the level of Iowa collegians (a very low level indeed) in order to find a few people willing to offer a phony question?

Not to toot our own collective horn too loudly, but we think that we’d make phenomenal plants. After all, we’re very good at pretending as if a question we have is heartfelt, rather than entirely forced. Perhaps that’s the only benefit we’ve ever gotten out of bad first dates.

Further, we think that we could come up with some really dazzling pro-Hillary queries. In fact, we consider ourselves so capable of producing such questions, that we’ll hit you with a couple of them forthwith.

Official “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Pre-Screened Questions for Hillary Clinton as envisioned by the Crack Young Staff

1) You seem far more informed—and of a far lighter complexion—than your opponent Barack Hussein Obama. Does this make him a terrorist?

2) All your policies are simply fantastic. I think I agree with all Americans when I say that you are completely correct about everything. How did you manage to get so much so right?

3) How long has Dennis Kucinich been an elfin Mexican? Do you think this disqualifies him from the presidency?

4) Many Americans are worried about electing a female president. Do you believe that this is a good reason for John Edwards to drop out of the race?

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November 13, 2007

A Diversity of Muslim Fanatics

As the project to spread democracy in some of the most autocratic nations continues apace, some of our liberal friends find themselves incapable of offering their support. Muslims, they might say, aren’t ready for democracy. Thus do our lefty pals demonstrate their unflinching anti-racism.

Yet not all criticisms of America’s newfound democracy-promotion hinges on such charmingly enlightened view of our Islamic brethren. Rather, some folks offer other dubious rationales.

Take Thomas Friedman, for example. Mr. Friedman, the New York Times columnist with the grandest moustache, is famous for having discovered that the world is actually flat—to the curiously intense fanfare of most literate Americans.

These days, however, Mr. Friedman spends his time finger-wagging about Iraq. Ah, if only we had listened to Mr. Friedman’s sage counsel. Then the Middle East would be like a playground: Happy, happy, happy.

For a charming exemplum of Mr. Friedman’s glorious ideas for Iraq, one can take a gander at “Democracy’s Root: Diversity,” which appeared in the November 11 number of the Gray Lady. Even before turning our collective eyes toward the piece, we were highly skeptical. After all, ancient Athens wasn’t highly “diverse,” and yet its residents got a handle on democracy just fine.
Just in case you thought our concern was misplaced, the eminent Mr. Friedman hits us with this unintentionally hilarious quote:

A senior French official suggested to me that maybe we in the West, rather than trying to promote democracy in the Middle East — a notion tainted by its association with the very Western powers that once colonized the region — should be focusing on promoting diversity, which has historical roots in the area.

It’s a valid point.

Yes, yes, yes: We shouldn’t be troubling ourselves with democracy. We ought to be promoting “diversity” instead. What a fantastic idea.

Perhaps we can get a bunch of professional “diversity” apparatchiks to head to Saudi Arabia and offer their delightful “diversity” seminars for the country’s benighted populace. If these “diversity”-mongers are the same folks who run orientation programs at our nation’s colleges and universities, we have a sense that such seminars will work wonders.

After all, what’s more salubrious than informing Saudi Arabian fanatics that white people, qua white people, are ineluctably racists? That ought to help the Middle East.

There’s only one problem: What happens when the Saudis note that America’s “diversity” police are more totalitarian than their own autocratic rulers?

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November 12, 2007

Andrea Dworkin and Other Neanderthals

A correspondent from our Danvers (MA) office recently sent us an interesting story from the November 10 number of the inimitable Boston Globe. Instead of offering the usual anti-Bush, anti-Romney carping, said piece presents a curious report on pre-history.

The article is question bears the intriguing title “Stone Age Feminism?” To which the proper response is: Gee, is there any other kind?

But never mind our (rather unfunny) high jinks. Here are the key points in the article:

The Neanderthal extinction some 30,000 years ago remains one of the great riddles of evolution, with rival theories blaming everything from genocide committed by “real” humans to prehistoric climate change.

But a recent study introduces another explanation: Stone Age feminism. Among Neanderthals, hunting big beasts was women’s work as well as men’s, so it’s a safe bet that female hunters got stomped, gored, and worse with appalling frequency. And a high casualty rate among fertile women—the vital “reproductive core” of a tiny population—could well have meant demographic disaster for a species already struggling to survive among monster bears, yellow-fanged hyenas, and cunning Homo sapiens newcomers.

Curious, is it not? Let us leave to one side the question of whether there is something “worse” than being “gored” (quayled?), and get to the matter at hand. As far as Colin Nickerson, the Globe staff member who wrote this story, reports, pre-historic feminism may have done in the Neanderthal.

Naturally, we must take this journalist’s report of academic work with a grain of salt. Our friends in newspaper land love to sensationalize, and thus Mr. Nickerson likely did a number to the real story about Neanderthal decline.

Still, we must say that it is rather delicious to contemplate a Neanderthal extinction caused by feminism. Just picture it: An irascible, bra-burning Neanderthal gal eagerly taking in a dog-eared copy of a Mary Daly book. As she puts the screed down atop a work by the Neanderthal Marilyn French, she angrily shouts to her husband: “I should be able to join the hunt, you sexist bastard. What kind of Neanderthal are you?”

To be sure, many will doubt the Neanderthal feminism theory. But we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” think it makes perfect sense.

After all, radical feminism is aiding our own civilization’s eclipse. Why shouldn’t it have been the same in pre-history? (Excuse us: Pre-herstory.)

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November 09, 2007

Our Gracious Concession Speech, Take Three

Another year, another embarrassing defeat. We’re starting to seem a bit like the New York Yankees—only no one on our staff answers to the ridiculous moniker “A-Rod.” (Thank goodness.)

As you may well know, dear reader, for the third straight year, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” were finalists for the “Funniest Blog” prize in the 2007 Weblog Awards. And, for the third straight year, we got beaten like Robin Givens.

Perhaps our obscure references to former wives of Mike Tyson don’t really go over well with the general public? We wouldn’t have guessed that this would be the case, but you never know.

Anyway, as a result of our unenviable status as thrice defeated, we have decided to offer another in our grand series of gracious concession speeches. We hope that this particular one shows the sort of pseudo-maturity that one comes to expect from the typical non-heart-felt oration.

“An Officially Gracious Concession Speech” by the Crack Young Staff, Perennial Big-Time Losers of the Weblog Awards

Unfortunately, dear friends, tonight was not our night. Neither, we hasten to add, was a night around this time one year ago, nor two years ago, for that matter. Although we gave it our level best, we went down in flames—like parts of California, or Richard Simmons.

To be more specific, we wound up in penultimate place, a mere four votes away from the ante-penultimate slot. This means, of course, that we are officially funnier than one “weblog” on Al Gore’s Internet. And, boy, that doesn’t feel very good.

Before we begin our recriminations, we ought to praise “Sadly, No!,” the winner of the “Funniest Blog” award. Apparently, tendentious left-wing mis-readings of conservative columnists are hysterical, and thus their “Michael Medved is a crank” humor deserves heartfelt huzzahs.

We mean, come on: How do these guys come up with such uproarious yuks? It’s not like Ann Coulter says something ridiculous all the time, now is it?

In addition, we feel the need to praise the runner-up, “DUmmie FUnnies.” As you may not know, the folks at this charming “weblog” decided to use all sorts of dirty tricks to garner votes, including rousing dimwitted right-wingers to plump for them by claiming their loss would be some sort of disaster in the culture war. So, congrats, guys: Not only are you runners-up, you also stayed classy.

We would be remiss, furthermore, if we failed to thank all those thousands of people who failed to vote for our humble “weblog.” There are, of course, many of you, but that doesn’t lessen our enthusiasm for each and every one of you one bit.

In fact, we firmly believe that everyone who did not cast his ballot for the crack young staff is, for lack of a better word, retarded. Severely retarded, in fact. Although we had an inkling that numerous Americans were a bit off, we didn’t recognize how many honest-to-goodness helmet-clad US citizens were out there.

But it’s true. So, fine: Vote for some other crappy “weblog”; forsake the crack young staff in its time of e-need.

We pledge to keep on trucking anyway. And we aim to be as mercilessly unfunny as we’ve been these past three years. With a little luck, we’ll be writing another such graceless concession speech after another Weblog Awards trouncing next year.

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The Annual Passive-Aggressive Weblog Awards “Post,” or Vote for Us, Please!

[Note: The following “post” will appear atop this humble “weblog” for the duration of the 2007 Weblog Awards voting. To cast your ballot for our storied Internet outfit, go here. Remember: You can vote once a day for the duration of the contest. For more recent knee-slapping material, scroll down below.]

Oh, dear: It’s happened again. For the third straight year, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have become finalists in the Weblog Awards. Although the powers-that-be at Wizbang have renamed our category this time around, we are essentially competing for the very same award as we have in years past: Best Humor Blog.

Longtime reader(s) of this humble “weblog” undoubtedly recognize that this is the cause of much consternation for us crack young staffers. And no wonder: In the voting for the last two Weblog Awards, we were heartily trounced. To empathize with our plight, you’d have to be a member of the Kansas City Royals, for crying out loud.

To be more specific, in the 2005 fiasco, we were beaten like a red-headed step-child. You can count all the “weblogs” we beat on no fingers. Though we performed a mite better in the following year’s contest, we still wound up in the middle of the pack.

It is with much excitement and trepidation, then, that we aim for three straight years of utter futility. If we manage to pull off another stunning defeat, we may be the Lyndon LaRouche of the “weblogosphere”—perennial candidates, perennial losers, perennial lunatics.

And what can you, dear reader, do to ameliorate our vexing situation? Well, we’re glad you asked. All you must do is vote for us in typical Mayor Daley fashion—early, often, and even when deceased. With your help, we may improve upon our ghastly performances in previous contests.

Instead of being the Mike Gravel of the Internet, we may even reach the storied level of, say, Dennis Kucinich. Or even Joe Biden—though you can rest assured that, unlike Sen. Biden, all our material and hair are our own.

In order to prove what e-worthies we are, we forthwith bestow upon you a veritable cornucopia of awe-inspiring “posts” from this year’s bumper crop of goodness. Before you plump for one of our rivals, check out some of this brilliance:

Please Tase Him, Bro

The Agnostic's Revenge

Ask Dr. Death

PC Reading for the Kiddies

Mike Nifong: Rapist

Un-Mugged by Un-Reality

Change the Channel Like Beckham

Take My Babies One More Time

Celebrate Sameness

Ah, yes: What striking e-genius, if we must say so ourselves. So vote for us, please. If you don’t, rest assured that the terrorists win.

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November 08, 2007

Suburban Street Toughs

Like many of our fellow citizens, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are largely products of the American suburbs. You know the suburbs, dear reader: Those milquetoast communities home to the local branch of Restoration Hardware, Barnes & Noble, and all the white people as far as the eye can see.

To be honest, when we think about the suburbs (which we do as little as possible), a frightening array of images pop into our minds: Soccer moms; Dukakis voters; NPR; Baby Gap; &c. You know: The typical ennui-inspiring soullessness you have come to expect from a town called Danvers.

We would be remiss, however, if we failed to mention one particular aspect of the suburban life (!) that never fails to vex us. As you can tell from the title of today’s animadversion, we’re talking about the odious young ones we have taken to calling suburban street toughs.

Now, don’t get us wrong: Street toughs are—on their own—pretty bad. No one likes to walk into these shady customers during the dark hours.

But suburban street toughs are even more irksome than their urban compatriots, in large part because they aren’t nearly as frightening as they are pathetic. At least in the big city the ne’er-do-wells know how to car jack you, for crying out loud.

And what do suburban street toughs do? Well, as far as we can intuit, they spend lots of time on outdated BMX bicycles hanging outside the local Dunkin’ Doughnuts or strip mall. With their ‘do rags and baggy vestments, they attempt to put forth an unsavory demeanor, but they wind up looking like a bunch of guys named Nigel in desperate need of a tailor.

We mean, come on: Can you really come across as menacing when you’re within a few feet of a Starbucks? Nothing rankles as much as ersatz toughness.

In fact, we’d love to force these extra-urban goofs into a big van, and then leave them off in the big city. We don’t think their whole I’m-Foreboding-Outside-of-Borders-Books routine will impress too many folks in the red light district of your local city.

A couple of hours mixing it up with pimps, drug dealers, and toothless derelicts should cure lil’ Johnny and Hunter of their perverse need to terrorize their upper-middle class brethren.

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November 07, 2007

Penultimate Place

As the French say, “What a surprise.” We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” currently find ourselves in a dogfight for “Funniest Blog” in the 2007 Weblog Awards. Unfortunately, however, our dog is severely retarded and moribund. Also, for those of you interested in such things, it’s a pug.

You see, dear reader, this humble “weblog” is—for the third straight year—fairing rather poorly in the Weblog Awards. In this particular iteration, in fact, we currently poll in penultimate place. Which, for our vocabulary-challenged readers, is second-to-last.

Now, we suppose we could prattle on about the idiocy of the American public. We guess we could complain that the likely winner of said contest offers nothing but tendentious misreadings of conservative columnists and calls the dubious result humor. And we figure we could mention that the current runner-up is so painfully unfunny that it makes us cringe.

But this, you surely understand, is nothing but spilled milk. Or, as the British would have it, spilt milk. As honest men and ladies, we simply have to own up: We’re getting completely trounced. We’re getting beaten like Ike Turner’s girlfriends. It’s sad, but it’s true.

And, to be downright honest, dear reader, it hurts. Badly, in fact. Actually, if you want to know how it feels, you’ll have to sit firmly on your testicles for a solid hour or two. If you lack testicles, well, then, we’re sorry: You’ll never know how it feels. Unless you own any Phil Collins records.

We mean, come on: Second-to-last place? Man, we know our e-outfit is a bit dilapidated, but we didn’t realize that it’s that bad. Pretty soon, out of shame, we’ll take up Yak farming in Peru, for crying out loud.

So what happened? How did a “weblog” so brimming with promise become an inveterate Weblog Awards loser? Sure, we got nominated for an award a few times. Yet even Pat Morita received a few nominations in his lifetime—and he appeared in The Karate Kid movies, for Christ’s sake.

Now, if we were loyal Nation readers, we might suspect foul play. Perhaps some evil cabal of Jews has rigged the “Funniest Blog” contest in favor of ultra-Zionist “weblogs”?

That doesn’t sound terribly reasonable to us, but such a notion might land us column space in Mother Jones. And, heck: If the Mossad took down the twin towers on 9/11, surely it can steal the rug out from under the crack young staff. Just ask those famed foreign policy experts Messrs. Walt and Mearsheimer.

Still, short of compelling us to don a kaffiyeh, this explanation fails to make us feel any better. Yes, yes, yes: We, like countless Muslim nations, are now the victims of an insidious Hebrew plot. But even Yasir “She’s My Baby” Arafat got his hands on the Nobel Peace Prize.

And, if we recall correctly, he was responsible for the deaths of a few thousand people or so. But us? We’ve never harmed a soul.

So, as the 2007 Weblog Awards wind down, we ask you to take this extraordinarily passive-aggressive “post” to heart. Vote for us as often as you can. Perhaps, with your help, we’ll only wind up feeling largely pathetic.

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November 06, 2007

Racism and Sexism with Geraldine Ferraro

Remember Geraldine Ferraro? For those of you who don’t recall this electoral eminence, she was the highly competent lass who served as the vice presidential nominee on the Democratic ticket in Walter Mondale’s deeply successful 1984 campaign.

If memory serves, the impressive Mondale-Ferraro duo managed to win Minnesota and the District of Columbia alone. The other five thousand or so states went to a fellow called Ronald Reagan. Even Massachusetts plumped for the Republicans, for crying out loud.

Well, now Ms. Ferraro finds herself a die-hard Hillary Clinton supporter. And, as such, she’s mad as heck about the most recent Democratic presidential debate in Philadelphia, during which various fellow candidates—mirabile dictu—criticized Sen. Clinton for locutions one can only call Clintonian.

An article in the November 5 number of The New York Times offers Ms. Ferraro’s reaction:

“John Edwards, specifically, was well as the press, would never attack Barack Obama for two hours they [sic] way they attacked her,” said Geraldine Ferraro, the 1984 vice presidential candidate who supports Mrs. Clinton. “It’s O.K. in this country to be sexist,” Mrs. Ferraro said. “It’s certainly not O.K. to be racist. I think if Barack Obama had been attacked for two hours—well, I don’t think Barack Obama would have been attacked for two hours.”

Boy, oh, boy: Ferraro sure is worked up. And no wonder she considers the mainstream media irredeemably sexist—just look at how the Paper of Record incessantly refers to her as “Mrs. Ferraro,” as if her marital status mattered at all! Oh, the horror: You haven’t come a long way, sister.

Yet let’s examine Ms. Ferraro’s “thoughts” on this matter a bit more closely. According to this self-proclaimed feminist, it is sexist to treat female candidates for president according to the exact same standards as male candidates, since they are clearly more delicate. Thus John Edwards and his ilk are degenerate women-haters because they dared to offer extended criticism of a lady.

Similarly, according to this self-proclaimed liberal, it is racist to treat black candidates for president according to the exact same standards as white candidates, since they are clearly more delicate. Thus John Edwards and his ilk are not degenerate racists because they did not dare to offer extended criticism of a black man.

Can you, dear reader, feel the progressiveness? No wonder the Left considers itself the proper home for feminists and anti-racists!

Does anyone know if “Ferraro” is the Italian word for pandering? Or maybe paternalistic?

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November 05, 2007

Careful Policy Prescriptions from the America-Loving Left

Perhaps, dear reader, you do not realize that the United States is currently indistinguishable from Nazi Germany. To be honest, that was news to us. Yet a “weblogger” at the popular lefty “website” Daily Kos has crafted a careful essay to this effect, and, as you’ll see, it’s almost preternaturally convincing.

The “weblogger” in question, someone called “Granny Doc,” has named her lucubration “Don’t Tell Me Not to Compare it to Hitler,” and, as you would expect from such a title, it’s very, very nuanced. Here’s its charming opening:

Back in the day when the Brown Shirts and the SA were busily using mobs of thugs to terrify and intimidate German citizens...

Back in the day when an emasculated Parliment [sic] was so busy fighting inflation and trying to hold on to their personal power...

Back in the day when Jews were the designated enemy...

Back in the day when the Courts were sidelined and finally stripped of all power...

Back in the day when the citizens were sold on the idea that a "strong man" was the only thing that could save them...

Back in the day when the world arose and swore we would never let it happen again...

Well, we have. Let it happen again.

We have private mercenary forces acting as an unregulated private army.
We have isolate, unresponsive elected officials consumed with protecting corporate contributors and getting re-elected.

We have Muslims to fear, torture and kill in the name of our personal safety.
We have Courts whose decisions and orders are ignored through Executive signing statements and pronouncements about what laws they will, and will not, obey.

We have lawful subpoenas disregarded by those who are called to testify before oversight committees.

We have a Republican party that having lost the Soviet Bloc as a boogie man [sic] to control and terrify Americans, found a new club with which to beat us into submission in the form of a crazed Saudi.

The parallels are undeniable, and I see only one solution if America, The Grand Experiment, is to survive.

We know what you are thinking, dear reader: This is some thoughtful analysis from one of the greatest minds of the Left. Clearly Granny’s arguments are as perfect as her prose is beautiful. As she argues, the “parallels are undeniable”: America is clearly the second-coming of Hitler’s Germany. We can’t argue against that impeccable logic.

Oh, but wait: It gets even better. Naturally, you are dying to read Granny’s thoughtful hopes for the future of the United States. How can America rescue itself from the horrid clutches of our Nazi present? Here’s Granny’s answer:

I want to stand by and watch it all blow up.

I want the dollar to plunge to worthless paper.

I want the stock market to implode.

I want the economy to plunge into chaos.

I want the Chinese to call in all the debt they hold.

I want an economic meltdown of such staggering proportion that even that idiot on Bill Moyer's Journal who does not know the difference between a State Constitution and the United States Constitution, is forced to look around in mild surprise and wonder what the hell happened.

Only total economic destruction will get the attention of the fools.

I want every single idiot who doesn't think politics is any of their concern to be gob smacked by the terror of losing it all. I want a wake up call of such stunning proportion that a generation will slip from the stage before any American citizen votes on the basis of looks, or, charm, or cant - before any claim of "Free Trade" is accepted as uninteresting. Before any citizen thinks it's cute, or hep, or stylish, to be distainful [sic] of politics.

I want every politician who places getting elected ahead of protecting the Constitution to find their corporate masters have lost interest in their little fiefdom as economic collapse makes their petty posturing even more pathetic.

I want a culture war against greed to emerge from the rubble, and the blyth [sic] acceptance of what is, in favor of the hard work of what could be to become so passe [sic] that our grandchildren will forever wonder what we were thinking.

I want every bamboozled, bubble headed, super-star chasing, reality show afficianado [sic] thrown off the island, and forced to swim in the shark infested waters of what their indifference has wrought.

And I want it now, before this inept, self-serving Congress allows the Facists [sic] one more opportunity to fully convert this from the United States of America, into the 4th Reich.

Gee: That all sounds pretty reasonable. Pining for America’s complete economic collapse—what could be more helpful than that?

Frankly, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have great difficulty understanding how folks could claim that a major organ of Democratic Party thought such as the Daily Kos is anti-American. How can you call great Americans such as Granny Doc, who clearly hope for the best for our Nazi nation, unpatriotic? It makes no sense to us.

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November 02, 2007

Paper of Record No More

As has been reported in the media with depressing regularity, newspapers have been taking something of a tumble. In recent years, their readerships have steadily declined. Even as highfalutin and classy a paper as, say, The New York Post has to worry about its continued financial success.

It turns out that Al Gore’s Internet has presented a major obstacle to the newspaper industry, since most people would rather watch a Youtube video of female flatulence than trouble themselves to keep abreast of current events. Further, thanks to the great success of our No Child Left Behind Gestapo, most American children are functionally illiterate, and therefore incapable of turning to, say, The Boston Globe in the first place.

Now we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must admit that we generally resemble Luddites, and thus we enjoy curling up to a good newspaper each morning. Up until recently, our choice of news source was none other than the self-proclaimed Paper of Record, The New York Times.

But no longer. We have just experienced the proverbial straw that proverbially broke the proverbial camel’s proverbial back. Although we used to take in the Gray Lady with aplomb, we cannot in good conscience do so in the future.

What, you may reasonably wonder, happened? What compelled the crack young staff to abandon “Pinch” Sulzburger’s delightful orgy of upper-middle class sanctimony? Did we finally peruse a Maureen Dowd column? Did Thomas Friedman’s intellectual preening compel us to implode?

No: Nothing as dramatic as that. Rather, we spied the following correction in the all-important style section of the November 1 number of the Times:

An article last Thursday about lingerie designed to be shown off in public misidentified the woman shown in the October issue of Harper’s Bazaar wearing satin briefs beneath a transparent frock. She is the actress Mary-Kate Olsen—not Ashley Olsen, her twin.

Awful, is it not? How can you trust the Gray Lady anymore, if its staff would make such an odious error? We most certainly cannot.

We mean, come on: How in good conscience can you misidentify a woman “wearing satin briefs beneath a transparent frock”? To our knowledge, our humble e-outfit has never made such a ghastly mistake, even though we don’t have anything close to the fact-checking resources of The New York Times.

Actually, we have a very strict woman-wearing-satin-briefs-beneath-a-transparent-frock-correct-identification policy. Those who fail to live up to its rigorous standards need not apply for work at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly.”

Furthermore, if the Gray Lady can’t get Mary-Kate and Ashley straight, what other egregious journalistic violations can we expect of them? Why, if you ask us, a paper that would make that boneheaded play is likely, say, to lie us into a war in Iraq. Or, say, to publish leaked national security secrets that render us all less safe.

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November 01, 2007

Are You Ready to Rock, Jenin?

It is an unfortunate truism that nothing makes you appreciate the aural detritus of American popular music quite as much as the even more noxious cacophony of international pop tunes. Yes, even though you (justly) despise, say, the Backstreet Boys and Billy Joel, the horrors of other countries’ hit songs almost—almost!—force you to appreciate American pop stars.

And no wonder: Have you ever heard, for example, Indian popular music? Oh, what palaver! And to think that these are the people who have bestowed us with the delicious sounds of Indian classical music!

What about, say, Italian pop songs? Nothing quite says “downward spiral” as much as a culture that previously gave us Virgil and now presents us with that utter garbage.

As usual, however, the Middle East is home to the worst crap you can find. Or so we read in The Daily Telegraph, Britain’s staunchly pro-Tory newspaper. Under the peculiar title “Hamas Boy Band to Bring Harmony to Gaza,” journalist Tim Butcher writes the following:

Hamas militants have launched a new weapon in their struggle with Israel: a troupe of honey-voiced singers known as Protectors of the Homeland. Wearing crisply pressed fatigues in urban camouflage blue, the six band members gather each day to practise in an old office within the Gaza City police headquarters. The small room throbbed with energy as their dusty 12-track amplifier screeched with feedback before being tamed by an engineer. To the accompaniment of a backing track from a laptop computer, the men then started polishing their routine of songs, almost all of which have strong Islamic and militaristic content and titles like Change and Reform. Such uplifting lyrics as "By the shrouds of the dead we are inspired" are typical. "It is our job to inspire the foot soldiers," said Maj Hosam Abu Abdu, a 40-year-old former police officer who now fronts the band. "We want to urge the soldiers and officers to push on, to make the effort needed in the struggle to end the occupation [of Palestinian land by Israel]." Formed in the summer as part of the arts department of Hamas's domestic security service, the Executive Force, the group has performed for police units around Gaza City.

Sounds pretty good, eh? As you can tell from the charming picture that accompanies the article, these mellifluous fellahs remind one very much of 98 Degrees, except for the fact that everyone in the band (Allah be praised) sports a beard. And those military fatigues are awfully fetching.

Further, unlike those saccharine American boy-bands, who warble tunes of the “I Want it That Way” ilk, the Protectors of the Homeland offer delightful four-part harmony and incitements to genocide. Take that, Justin Timberlake.

Until you’ve heard their “Kill the Jews Rap,” you haven’t heard anything. Move over, George Michael.

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