Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Operation Chaos

With a strong Clinton win in Pennsylvania last night, Rush Limbaugh’s Operation Chaos continues its successful run.  In fact, exit polls showed some 10% of the Pennsylvania primary electorate consisted of voters who had switched their registrations to vote in the Democratic primary.  This is not an insubstantial group, though the exits did not show how they voted, so we cannot be sure that some or most of these voters were disaffected Republicans who decided to vote Democrat this year, but it’s an interesting number nonetheless.

Still, Rush’s version of Operation Chaos rates at little more than a stunt in my mind - a very entertaining stunt, but a stunt nonetheless.  I doubt “stealth Democrats” have swung any of the primaries to date away from Obama.  The real Operation Chaos is the reality that is beginning to dawn on academic and partisan observers alike:

My colleague Noam Scheiber attributes Clinton’s success among these suburbanites to the influence of Governor Ed Rendell, who campaigned with Clinton, but I wonder whether Obama’s gaffes and his suspect associations--whether with Wright or former Weatherman Bill Ayers or real estate developer Tony Rezko--began to tarnish his image among these voters. If so, the electoral premise of Obama’s campaign--that he can attract middle class Republicans and Independents--is being undermined.

Indeed, if you look at Obama’s vote in Pennsylvania, you begin to see the outlines of the old George McGovern coalition that haunted the Democrats during the ‘70s and ‘80s, led by college students and minorities. In Pennsylvania, Obama did best in college towns (60 to 40 percent in Penn State’s Centre County) and in heavily black areas like Philadelphia.

And, from Jay Cost:

All in all, it was a strong, and generally predictable win for Hillary Clinton. But what does it mean?

We can say the following. If the superdelegates had grown concerned after Ohio about Obama’s ability to win lower income whites in the general election - these results will not alleviate their worries. Pittsburgh, Scranton, and Erie all swung decisively for Clinton. If Ohio had them worried, so will these results.

Obama clearly has a problem, that problem being that the two types of Democratic presidential candidates are not the “change” and “status quo” types, as he would have it, but the “McGovern” and “John F. Kennedy” types.  To put it simply, the Democrat Party is a “coalition” of interest groups who do not act in harmony but compete.  In fact, their interest groups are competitive in a fundamental way that the Republican Party’s principle interest groups are not.  Vast cultural differences separate the working-class whites, minorities, college-educated, and now super-wealthy elites who form the most visible constituencies of the party, whereas the Christians, middle class entrepreneurs, and businesses that make up the Republican Party have different policy priorities, but no necessarily contradictory belief systems.

For our purposes, identifying the precise cultural gulfs that separate the Democratic constituencies is not necessary; we need only point out that they show up readily in polls where the slate of candidates puts these gaps into play, as it does this year.  The split regularly is working class whites, the backbone of FDR’s coalition, against the wealthy elites, the highly educated, and the minorities.  As others have pointed out, usually the working class whites, being far more numerous, win out over the three other, much smaller groups.  Occasionally, however, the working class vote fractures for fails to show up, and the latter three groups find themselves able to nominate their sort of candidate, who is invariably someone like George McGovern or Obama.  Then, historically, the elite-preferred candidate goes on to a crushing defeat in the general election.  This happens for one simple, politically incorrect reason: the white vote, and particularly the white middle class vote, is the most important constituency in American politics.

Say what you will about the legitimate interests of racial minorities or wealthy elites (and I do not argue that their interests are illegitimate), but these voters are simply not numerous enough to matter that much.  Racial minorities have a further problem in that they appear to be unconditionally tied to the Democrat Party, meaning their interests are never viewed by either party to be at stake in any election.  In any case, any politician who fails to capture the white vote, no matter how charismatic he may be nor how many structural factors may be in his favor in any given election, cannot succeed in any national election.  They can, however, succeed in Democrat primaries, an acute problem for the party.

Does Obama’s lack of success with the white vote in Democrat primaries necessarily augur an electoral wipeout?  Not necessarily.  No doubt many of these Clinton voters will end up preferring Obama to McCain.  That being said, I think the pundits who dismiss the polls showing some 30% of Obama and Hillary supporters saying they will vote for McCain rather than support the eventual Democrat nominee are being much too hasty in declaring these numbers will be drastically lower.  First, the last two elections have accustomed us to strong partisan identification at the national level.  This may not be true anymore, given that both parties are in a state of flux - as Michael Barone argues, we may be entering into a field of “open-field politics.” Secondly, and more specific to this election, it has been awhile since we have seen such demographic entrenchment in a primary process.  Typically, momentum and media effects serve to push lagging candidates out, and this shows up in the vote breakdowns as we observe Candidate A’s core constituencies beginning to cross over into Candidate B’s camp.  By and large, that hasn’t happened this year. Obama has cut into Hillary’s core constituencies in some states this year, but then last night we observed Clinton cutting into some of Obama’s.  Still, these hemorrhages have been marginal - pundits who have predicted primary results solely by the state’s demographic makeup have been remarkably successful.  That suggests to me that the above-mentioned polls are not just evidence of temporary effects from intense political competition - the voters in each camp may very well see the other candidate as inimical to their interests, and stay home or vote Republican accordingly.  This is only a possibility, but we should not discount it too hastily.

Watch the next several primaries for continued signs of demographic entrenchment - the longer this effect lasts, the more likely my hypothesis will be proven.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Surviving The Heights

Darling Charles has posted one of his occasional musings on a bit of feminine footwear: a super-delicate stiletto-heeled sandal by Alexander McQueen. It's a pricey item at nearly a thousand dollars per pair, well beyond most women's shoe budgets. (Yes, beyond mine too.) One of Charles's blog-colleagues asked a question I've often faced myself: "How can anyone walk in those things?"

I wouldn't know about those shoes. They appear too delicate by half for me. I walk faster than most women, and would probably break a heel without thinking. Even if I didn't, without a compensating front platform, I think I'd find the heel too high for comfort. They're meant for reclining on a chaise longue while a handsome, superlatively devoted gentleman brings you mimosas and hors d'oeuvres. (How you'd get to the chaise longue from wherever you put them on is a separate investigation.)

The larger question of how women tolerate high heels is one I used to puzzle over myself. A lot of women regard them as implements of torture, right up there with Chinese foot-binding. Of course, that raises the companion question why any woman would wear such things. For we do wear them, most of us. We spend quite a lot of money on them, too. But why, if they hurt us, restrict our movement, and force us to wear delicate stockings and pantyhose we claim to hate just as much?

I have to be a little naughty here. Heels are sex made leather. Even if they make you feel a little unsteady, the compensation in improved posture, greater consciousness of your body, and increased attention from men is more than worth it. You'll never know how good an item of clothing can make you feel until you've worn a pair of luxe heels. With appropriate clothing for the rest of the body, of course.

Along with that, with the right shoes and a little practice, just about anyone can learn how to walk in high heels without pain. Moderate distances only! They're not for gofers or marathoners, and if you're going to be peddling a bicycle around Los Angeles, you should really be wearing trainers. But otherwise, if you buy:

• Well balanced,
• Solidly made shoes,
• Whose footbed pitch is compatible with your insteps and arches,

...there isn't much to it. Keep your legs close together, put one foot directly in front of the other, and refrain from hurrying, and heels won't give you any trouble.

Balance is usually a problem only in cheap heels, and in shoes with an excessively narrow heel. Sometimes it afflicts heels with unnaturally short, pointed toe boxes, too, but those are mostly a thing of the past. Cheap shoes are made of unsupportive materials on sloppy lasts, which results in poorly controlled sizing. Extremely narrow stilettos don't give you enough material to support your heel and can cost you a sprained ankle. You can almost always tell by eye when a heel isn't going to provide you adequate balance.

A solidly made shoe feels like it in your hand. It's not a webwork of delicate straps, or a gossamer fantasy like the McQueen sandals Charles posted about. It has some weight to it. Its upper surfaces are substantial. You can flex it without straining the upper's join to the sole -- and you should, several times, before you even try it on. After all, that's what your body weight is going to do to it with every step you take.

Footbed pitch is an individual matter. Some women can tolerate a high pitch, four to five inches, while others have to restrict themselves to more modest slopes, three inches or less. Don't kid yourself; half an inch either way can make a big difference. Wear a pair that attracts you for several minutes and move around briskly, as if you're dealing with several important things at once. If you still feel comfortable after five minutes of back-and-forth -- comfortable enough not to flop onto your back, rip the hellish things off, and fling them across the store -- they're a good risk. If not, put them back on the shelf! Sometimes a Dr. Scholl's pad under the ball of the foot will help a little, but if a pair of heels is past the edge of your comfort zone without the pad, you're probably better off without them.

The return of the platform sole has been a blessing to women who love the look of a four to five inch heel but can't tolerate that high a pitch. The good designers have become adept at avoiding the "clumpy look" that once characterized platforms, preserving the elegance of a high heel. The effect on comfort can be dramatic. I can tolerate about a four inch pitch in a "single-sole" shoe, but I find five inch heels in a shoe with a one inch platform at the ball of the foot just as comfortable. In fact, their solidity makes them even more reassuring.

A lot of podiatric and orthopedic authorities advise varying your heel height several times a day. This is probably a good idea; it keeps your ankles and tendons from becoming too used to a single position. Besides, it gives you a reason to wear more of your shoe collection each day, so why not?

Ladies, this is your guide to "surviving the heights." Mountain climbers have it a lot worse; they have to lug all sorts of equipment up the slope with them. All you have to do is keep to a few sensible rules and you'll be able to enjoy the benefits of heels without pain or fear. The rest of the problem -- escaping your favorite shoe store without buying a pair of entrancingly gorgeous but utterly unwearable heels -- is up to you.

Sunday, April 20, 2008

Fran’s Sunday Ruminations: Our Image In The Mirror

I don't regret my adolescent flirtations with nihilism and Erisianism...well, not totally, anyway. For one thing, there's Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche's observation that "That which does not kill us makes us stronger." For another, there's Robert A. Heinlein's observation about the educational power of experience: "It shows you how you busted your skull...after you've busted it."

I survived those years and learned better; I suppose that should be enough. But they're also a rich vein I can tap in service to my contemporary penchant for Ruminating. (Those who've brought rotten fruit may hurl it at will. Pssst! Hey, Will, get over here and stand in front of me!) What comes to mind this morning is the habit we Boomer spratlings had of demanding, of ourselves, one another, and everyone around us, "What's it all mean?"

Meaning has been a human quest ever since we became sentient -- conscious of our individual identities and thought processes -- however many thousands of years ago. For the consciousness of our own consciousness -- the sight of our image in our mental mirror -- brings with it a huge burden: what C. S. Lewis described as the "tragic conception" of life:

The horrible fingers which Weston would never use again worked at the buckles and brought out a small bright object -- an English pocket mirror that might have cost three-and-six. He handed it to the Green Lady. She turned it over in her hands.

"What is it? What am I to do with it?" she said.

"Look in it," said the Un-man."

"How?"

"Look!" he said. Then taking it from her he held it up to her face. She stared for quite an appreciable time without apparently making anything of it. Then she started back with a cry and covered her face. Ransom started too. It was the first time he had seen her the mere passive recipient of any emotion. The world about him was big with change.

"Oh -- oh," she cried. "What is it? I saw a face."

"Only your own face, beautiful one," said the Un-man.

"I know," said the Lady, still averting her eyes from the mirror. "My face -- out there, looking at me. Am I growing older or is it something else? I feel...I feel...my heart is beating too hard. I am not warm. What is it?" She glanced from one of them to the other. The mysteries had all vanished from her face. It was as easy to read as that of a man in a shelter when a bomb is coming.

"What is it?" she repeated.

"It is called Fear," said Weston's mouth. Then the creature turned its face full on Ransom and grinned.

[From C. S. Lewis's Perelandra]

The Green Lady's suddenly heightened awareness of self -- in the above case, awareness of her physical appearance -- is for her a source of spiritual threat. She is an un-Fallen creature, over whose fate Ransom and the Un-man are struggling. As Lewis makes clear at many points in his story, before the arrival of the Un-man she was in direct communication with God. That communication has been suspended to permit the battle for her soul to begin.

But the Green Lady's peculiar state of self-unconsciousness is barred to us fallen ones, already immersed in the post-Edenic demands of temporality and scarcity. Fortunately, for us self-consciousness is not a sin. Having turned us loose in time to find our way back to Him, God asks nothing of us but acknowledgement of His goodness and the will not to bring harm to others. Indeed, our temporal consciousness of self demands that we strive to know ourselves, that we might conserve our better qualities and improve our poorer ones. It's the essence of our temporal nature and our consciousness of it.

The "tragic conception" of life is closely akin to Thomas Sowell's "tragic vision." It acknowledges that all good things come at a price; that we are not guaranteed to have the prices of all the things we desire; that we face some conditions that cannot be undone by any exertion of mortal power. As H. L. Mencken put it, we must learn to "bear [them] with philosophy, as we bear colds in the head, marriage, the noises of the city, bad cooking, and the certainty of death."

From beneath those burdens of mind and soul sprouts a desperate yearning: the yearning for meaning. And if I may recur to my younger years again, we who demanded to know "What's it all mean?" could not answer our own question in any satisfying way. For we had forgotten, or perhaps had never learned, that meaning, too, is an image in a mirror.

For there to be an image in a mirror, something must stand before it. For the image in the mirror to be seen, someone must be gazing at it. We call that someone an interpreter.

While a man lives, he can interpret himself according to his own standards for meaning, and evaluate himself according to his own standards for worth. And of course, those who know him can measure him by their own standards. But a mature man knows that eventually he will vanish from the world. Those who knew him in life will remember him for a while, but those memories will fade. In time, the fact that he once lived will cease to matter to anyone. Given the ephemerality of his life, a mere seventy or eighty years dipped from the bottomless well of eternity, how can he be said to have mattered? How can his life, with all its strivings and sufferings, be said to have meaning?

Given a simple premise, the answer is simple: his life has no meaning. By implication, the existence of Mankind has no meaning. Zero plus zero equals zero, in any number system imaginable.

But the premise must be made explicit: If we omit God.

It's beyond mortal power to prove that God exists, or even, if we postulate Him, that He cares a whit about the fate of Man. All we have are the classical narratives and our yearnings for Him. The narratives could be fiction; our yearnings could be self-delusory. But whatever the case, the tragic conception becomes immeasurably more tragic without God, Whose interpretation of our strivings cannot and will not crumble to the ground. Without Him, our lives could truly be "dust in the wind:"

I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind.

Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind

[Now] Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away, and all your money won't another minute buy.
Dust in the wind, all we are is dust in the wind

Dust in the wind, everything is dust in the wind.

[Kansas]

Here is the aspect of religious faith that our modern anti-theists refuse to grapple with, because they have no substitute for it. Our lives can only have satisfying meaning, meaning that endures, to an Interpreter Who stands outside time. If there is no such, then let Cthulhu have us. Let us eat, drink, and be merry today, slaughter, pillage, and ravish as widely as we're able, and shoot ourselves in the head when our enemies have cornered us or our pleasures have palled on us; once the mirror has slipped from our fingers, nothing further will matter. But if He is watching and is pleased with us, the labor and pain we must undergo to live decently, with malice toward none and in acknowledgement of our debt to Him, is in the transcendent sense worth our while.

May God bless and keep you all.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Hipshots

Even a Certified Galactic Intellect needs recharge time. And tonight, which is different from all other nights, your Curmudgeon will need all his strength, for he, the lone Christian in his household, will be required by courtesy to eat large quantities of tasteless "traditional" cuisine in celebration of the only religious holiday the C.S.O. regards as an obligation. So have a few quickies in place of a full-scale rant and be grateful that you won't be served cannonball-sized lumps of starch in a flavorless broth, or be asked to part the waters in the hot tub by sheer force of will just because you did it last year.

(Apropos of which, there is absolutely no truth to the rumor that the completion of Which Art In Hope has been delayed due to your Curmudgeon's efforts at translating the Talmud into LOLCat. Your Curmudgeon has not inaugurated any such project. He'd like to, but the C.S.O. has assured him that Ceiling Cat would not approve.)

1. The Stability Canard.

Your Curmudgeon once had a very high opinion of Dr. Condoleezza Rice, first the National Security Advisor and now Secretary of State in the Bush Administration. Sadly, that opinion has dissipated under the force of events:

A MYSTERIOUS Israeli military strike on a suspected nuclear site in Syria last month was opposed by Condoleezza Rice, the American secretary of state, because she feared it would destabilise the region, according to a report this weekend.

Rice persuaded the Israelis to delay their operation, but not to call it off, after US officials were presented with “jaw-dropping” evidence of Syrian nuclear activity, the report said.

The Sunday Times revealed two weeks ago that Israeli commandos had seized samples of nuclear material, said to be of North Korean origin, during a daring raid on a Syrian military facility to prove to the Americans that an air attack was essential.

According to ABC News, Rice led the opposition inside the Bush administration to the Israeli strike, persuading them to shelve initial plans to hit the Syrian facility in the week of July 14.

The nuclear samples seized by ground commandos remain unidentified, but defence and intelligence sources in Washington believe they may have been connected to uranium enrichment.

(Applause to the beauteous Pamela for the link.)

If Dr. Rice prizes "stability" above the acquisition of weapons of mass destruction by a gangster-state such as Syria, she's truly lost her way. In all probability, the institutional dynamics of the State Department have corrupted her.

The notion that "stability" is a geopolitical value has to be discarded if American foreign policy is ever to become rational again. "Stability," divorced from other considerations, is no more desirable than "change." But a permanent diplomatic institution instinctively promotes "stability" to the top of its list of things to be striven for and defended -- because like all bureaucracies staffed by people in tenured positions who get the same compensation regardless of performance, its employees are more interested in minimizing their labors than in actually accomplishing anything.

Abolish the State Department!

***

2. "Reformed" Islam:

Have a pungent illustration of why Robert Spencer, proprietor of Jihad Watch, is among your Curmudgeon's foremost heroes:

Spencer: Nothing I have read in this elephantine and contentious exchange has led me to modify my view that, as Mr. Haidon has said, “Muslims will never accept, on any level, removal of parts of the Qur’an.” Not only are large numbers of Muslims ever likely to accept a drastically edited Qur’an, but they are also unlikely ever to flock to a wholesale reevaluation of Islamic theology involving the dismissal of the Hadith and Sira as “hearsay stories.”

Mr. Warner is correct: “And there is no mechanism for reform. Our results--good, bad or indifferent—do not make any difference. There is no body or group that could vote or agree on any change.” Many strange things have happened in history and I would never say that Islamic reform is absolutely impossible, but Westerners are extraordinarily foolish when they harbor any hopes of it actually happening on a large scale. We need instead to focus on efforts to defend ourselves both militarily and culturally from the jihadist challenge, and to continue to call the bluffs of pseudo-reformers who intend ultimately only to deceive Western non-Muslims – many of whom are quite anxious to be deceived.

Because of the entrenched nature of Islamic orthodoxy, and its willingness to commit violence to enforce conformity, I am skeptical of the claims put forward by both Mr. Massoud and Mr. Yuksel to the effect that Muslims are flocking to their reform efforts.

That's realism on the hoof, well buttressed by fourteen centuries of world history. Its implications should be front and center in any discussion of America's policies toward international alignments, immigration, and Islam. Attempts to deny it, or slide around it, have led Europe down the path to immolation; if not resisted, they can do the same to America.

***

3. True Believers

Mark Alger, one of your Curmudgeon's favorite Web commentators, provides us with an important touchstone by which to evaluate the worth of others' opinions:

AS TO THE RELIABILITY of a person's opinions on matters of science, listen to how he refers to controversial subjects. Does he "believe in" global warming? Evolution? Astrology?

Science is not a matter for belief. The word science comes from the Latin root scientia, meaning knowledge. In the scientific worldview, one either knows something or one does not. (And the latter is a far larger set than the former.) One does not believe.

Well said. The founder of science, Roger Bacon, was adamant that knowledge is confirmed by prediction and prediction alone. Nothing else counts. But a true believer wll routinely excuse his failures at prediction, usually by claiming that his favored theory merely needs to be modified a bit. After a few such revisions, the theory looks like something from the Rube Goldberg Memorial Museum of Intellectual History.

This is called "self-caricature."

***

4. The Price of Courage

Man must be free because nothing else is. All the requirements of human flourishing are finite in quantity, which implies that some sort of rationing mechanism is inevitable. But since each man has his own perception of necessities and scale of priorities, there are only two methods available: freedom, wherein we trade with one another as rationally self-interested sovereigns, and totalitarianism, wherein some Authority decrees, explicitly or implicitly, who may produce and trade, under what conditions, and for what seigniorage. As Ayn Rand said in Atlas Shrugged, "Take your choice, there is no other -- and your time is running out."

Even "free speech" is not free, as Geert Wilders' current situation demonstrates:

There is something very disturbing going on right now in Holland concerning Geert Wilders and Fitna. A journalist has suggested lifting Geert Wilders’ security so Muslims can kill him. I am asking as many people to please spread the word. My government is such a coward bunch who are very capable of doing just such a thing.

The journalist mentioned here has a long history of siding with the totalitarians:

H.J.A Hofland, Henk, (1927), is an ex-communist, journalist, active columnist who writes, among others, for the NRC, a very politically correct newspaper.

He made his statement on a TV talk show on 29 February (well before the release of Fitna). The statement had a somewhat sarcastic undertone. It was made in a “what shall we do with Geert Wilders” discussion (without Wilders or his adherents) in a Pauw & Witteman infotainment episode.

He did indeed say “drop Wilders’ protection.” In his vision the movie would jeopardize many people’s lives, and by canceling Wilders’ own security he would feel what it is to be threatened. He did not say “so Muslims can kill him”. I saw this episode and just checked the tape again.

This...person is not alone in the Netherlands; there are undoubtedly many who wish Wilders ill for having "endangered" them. That the danger was real and visible among them well before Fitna was released is of no moment; they believe quite fervently that they can shield themselves from it by pretending it isn't there.

Geert Wilders is a courageous, perceptive man of great civic virtue. He deserves public acclaim well beyond what he's received from his countrymen. It's a pity he wasn't born in America; we could use a few million like him.

***

5. Justice Delayed...And Too Little, At That

Courtesy of the esteemed Dr. Helen Smith, we learn that the first of the rape-torture-murder perpetrators in the Channon Christian / Christopher Newsom atrocity has been convicted:

The first trial ends with the first guilty verdict in connection with the deaths of Channon Christian, 21, and Christopher Newsom, 23.

The only one of the five suspects not charged with murder, Eric DeWayne Boyd is guilty of being an accessory, according to the jury.

The jury has spoken, convicting Eric Boyd of two counts.

After five hours of deliberation, they found Boyd guilty of being an accessory after the fact, and concealing a felon, agreeing with the prosecution that he helped hide murder suspect Lemaricus Davidson from police, while failing to report his crimes....

What Eric Boyd heard from the jury today will likely mean 15 years in federal prison, after sentencing August 12th.

Time was, an accessory to a felony -- and Boyd was accessory to these crimes both before and after the fact -- received the same penalty as the "immediate" perpetrators. The only imaginable penalty for the horror inflicted on Channon Christian and Christopher Newsom is death. Why, then, was Boyd tried separately from the others, and why was his trial before theirs?

Any bets on whether liberals will protest Boyd's sentence, or the sentences inevitably to be imposed on Boyd's collaborators, as "inhumane?" In your Curmudgeon's view, utter inhumanity is the proper response to an utterly inhuman deed perpetrated on two innocents by inhuman -- or should we prefer "subhuman?" -- savages. Proportional punishment is supposed to be what the Fifth and Eighth Amedments guarantee: no more than the victim suffered, but certainly no less, in the interest of both justice and deterrence. But your Curmudgeon is still waiting for his nomination to the Supreme Court.

***

6. Trends In Discourse

At A Western Heart, one of Australia's best political blogs, the esteemed Dr. John Ray comments thus:

This tendency of Leftists to make Lordly and abusive pronouncements with absolutely no backing evidence is one I almost invariably find in emails that I get from Leftists. They seem to think that because they say a thing is so then I must accept that it is so. I must confess that I do to an extent use their own tactics back on them sometimes. I don't dignify their emails with an argument about the facts. I just answer abuse with abuse. And even then what I say to them is milder than what they say to me. In answer to an abusive email, I might say: "You sure sound full of hate. Get help!" I gather that few conservatives reply that way because it sure rattles the Leftists concerned. They usually reply with either a denial or further abuse. But I keep up pointing out how what they say suggests mental defects of various sorts and they quite often get so upset that they ban my email address so that they cannot receive any further replies from me. What fun!

Though this sounds perfectly valid and justified -- indeed, your Curmudgeon has done much the same on occasion -- it points up a serious defect in contemporary political exchange. Committed conservatives and committed liberals have raised the conversational temperature so high that uncommitted persons don't want to go near it. In consequence, for either side to attract new allegiants by outreach is next to impossible; we must wait for them to come to us, a great frustration to political strategists who know that victory lies in the hands of the uncommitted voter.

***

7. Huh? Department

Ace of Spades has been spotty of late but still unearths a gem such as this now and again. Excerpting this bit of self-adulation would be counterproductive, Gentle Reader. You really must let your eye glide over the totality of the thing, even if only lightly engaged.

Your Curmudgeon finds himself wondering whether Mr. Winslow was spurned by Who's Who In America, and this is his compensation. At any rate, the depth and breadth of his self-regard make him the logical challenger to Dr. Gene Ray, the wisest human in all of history. A cage match sounds about right. With chain saws.

Friday, April 18, 2008

Apologies

You don't have to be a news junkie on your Curmudgeon's order of magnitude to be aware of the torrent of apology activity -- apologies demanded; apologies delivered; apologies analyzed, deconstructed, recontextualized, and dismissed -- that plagues our national discourse at this time. It's an orgy, really: public personages before the cameras, wallowing in contrition like a mud bath, in the hope that the act will prove seductive to the viewers at home.

Seductive how? Well, it's politicians' apologies that have been most prominent in the news, in these years of the Permanent Campaign. A politician in the penance seat is hoping to stave off the loss of votes and money. He fears that whatever gaffe he's atoning for will cost him his office, or the one to which he aspires. That's the only eventuality that can persuade a modern politician to admit to error.

Except that they seldom actually admit to error, do they? We get a lot of "I misspoke" and "I should have phrased that differently." We get even more "I'm sorry you were offended," which isn't an apology at all but rather a statement deploring an event outside the speaker's control. Only in the rarest of cases will a politician say, plainly and without qualification, "What I said / did was wrong; you were right to be offended by it, and I promise to change my ways."

That's actually a good thing. We know from experience that a politician is about as likely to change his convictions or goals as a leopard is to develop stripes. So to one attuned to the linguistic gradations in the political apology orgy, the rarity of genuine contrition candidly expressed is a sign that truth is still able to defend its turf in the politician's conscience.

But despite the increasing, healthful cynicism toward politicians' apologies that Americans are enjoying, one phrase has been conspicuously absent from treatments of the phenomenon. It highlights an implication of political contrition we've deliberately been distracted from addressing. It should be hammered into our discourse and kept in place for the remainder of our Constitutional republic.

The phrase is "the courage of his convictions."

It's possible to discern a politician's convictions -- or whether he has any at all -- from his actions in office. It's not even particularly difficult. Only the absolute newcomer, never before granted a position of authority, has a record of words alone. Any man who's held such a position will have a public record which can be compared to his espoused views...and to whatever apologies he might issue.

In the commonest case, a politician who apologizes for some utterance has expressed his convictions, or lack thereof, with greater accuracy than he intended. The evidence is usually unambiguous from his record. Did he claim that his ideological opponent is a criminal or a traitor? Did he call for taxes as a punitive measure against "the rich," who got where they are by "exploiting the worker?" Did he denigrate gun owners, or Christians, or persons who love their country and prefer that it not be overrun by foreigners who don't love it? He meant it -- probably with more intensity than he dares to expose.

It's not your Curmudgeon's intention this morning to castigate the specific views tabulated above. He'd rather focus on the apology and what it implies about the issuer. Such an apology can be translated as follows: "I didn't expect the negative reaction I'd get by showing my cards this way, and I'd appreciate it greatly if you would all just forget it."

Such a politician lacks the courage of his convictions. He wants the power to act on them, but fears to have them publicized and analyzed beforehand.

Note how frequently politicians vying for higher office object to having their records in office held up for public scrutiny. If they were honestly proud of their stands and deeds, or if it were difficult to divine their beliefs from their records, would they protest as often or as loudly?

Your Curmudgeon finds a peculiar significance in the relation between the words "apology" and "apologetics:"

• apology, n: An acknowledgment intended as an atonement for some improper or injurious remark or act; an admission to another of a wrong or discourtesy done him, accompanied by an expression of regret.
• apologetics, n: That branch of theology which defends the Holy Scriptures, and sets forth the evidence of their divine authority.

Altogether too many politicians would prefer that we accept their words and deeds as the revealed Will of God. This is especially true of their campaign statements and their decisions in power. They're merely bashful about expressing that desire in its fullest and most arrogant form: "I'm smarter and more moral than the lot of you put together, so sit down, shut up, and accept what I give you." When one's mask slips and his moral and intellectual hauteur is unintentionally revealed, he must explain it away somehow before it can cost him what he holds or seeks, yet without actually acknowledging fault. Thus is born the secular theology of political apologetics.

Food for thought.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

News Flash:  The Pope is Catholic!

It’s been far too long since I joined the conversation at this most excellent site; and today I don’t have anything deep, profound or original.

If I can brighten your day with a laugh, however, I’ll feel that it was a post well done.

I’m not a baptized Catholic, but I did first visit Eternity Road as a result of a link at a “Catholic” blog, (at this point I don’t even remember which one).  I do remember it was from a post criticizing our Esteemed Proprietor for his stance on the war(s) or “torture” or the like.  One never knows what’s coming around the next corner.

As Benedict XVI visits the U.S., it brings a lot of things out of the woodwork, or into the Old Media, that normally remain unnoticed by the Dictators of Taste and Style in New York, Hollywood and Washington, D.C..  The Washington Post web site’s religion page provided space yesterday for the President of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary to air his views on Benedict and his convictions, and the results provided me with some good humor.  Intentional?  You be the judge:

“Thus, I did not expect that Pope Benedict would move to breach the theological divide between evangelicals and Roman Catholics. Indeed, I would have been most surprised if, now elected as Pope, Benedict would reveal himself as someone other than who he had been as Cardinal Ratzinger.”

Ahem...so would I have been.  Popes are not like “moderate” Federal judges, who are expected by the left to “grow” while in office and become more “liberal.” So what would “breaching the theological divide” have entailed?

“Perhaps the most clarifying moment since his election came last July when the Vatican released the document known as “Responses to Some Questions Regarding Certain Aspects of the Doctrine on the Church” – a document that reasserted the claim that the Roman Catholic Church is the only true church.

The secular press and a good many non-Catholic church leaders expressed outrage and offense at the Pope’s comments – assuming that such teachings were simply out of place in the modern world. But Benedict was restating the tradition and teaching of his church – and he did so because he cared for those he believes are outside the blessings of grace he is certain are given to those in the communion of his church – and to that communion alone.”

You mean--the Pope didn’t declare the end of the Catholic Church?  For that would be the essence of such a document.  At least the author experienced clarity, instead of outrage.

“I actually appreciated the Pope’s concern. If he is right, we are endangering our souls and the souls of our church members. Yet, I am convinced that he is not right—not right on the papacy, not right on the sacraments, not right on the priesthood, not right on the Gospel, not right in understanding the church.”

Well my good sir, you have a right to an opinion in this great Republic of ours, but you don’t quite seem to get the point; the Pope doesn’t care, deep down, and the Church has to be the Church, or it will rapidly break into a thousand fragments like Protestantism.  Has the author asked himself lately why he works for the Southern Baptist Convention and not the Baptist Church? 

I’m not sure of the purpose of this piece, of why the Post.com chose to publish it, but it seems that they wanted to point out for the one billionth time that the Catholic Church believes it has an important, incontrovertible Truth to communicate to the world.  What a news flash:  The Pope is Catholic!

The good news is at least they didn’t let Sally Quinn write it.

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

“Universal Health Care”

Ever since the start of the presidential campaign -- back around December 2004, wasn't it? -- there's been a lot of chatter about "universal health care." The phrase has figured prominently not only in the curriculum vitae of Mrs. William Clinton, junior United States Senator from New York, but in her stump speeches and press statements as well. And of course the junior senator from Illinois, B. Hussein Obama, has made some noises about it too.

Your Curmudgeon has only a single question about this admirable-sounding goal: What do you mean by it, please?

Each of the three words in that phrase is ambiguous of import. Jammed together as they are, they make for a good round thumping phrase, just the sort of thing a liberal politician uses to bring the crowd to its feet. Yet the meaning of the whole is even less than the sum of the meanings of its parts.

The least uncertain of the three is "universal." That means "everywhere," right? Or since we're dealing with a political promise, perhaps "everyone." Either way, it's a grandiose ambition; no one in history has ever succeeded at bringing any identifiable thing to everyone. If you doubt this, try to name a good or service enjoyed by all Americans, under uniform conditions of access. Yes, price matters; no good thing can be had by anyone without someone first meeting its price. No, "political rights" won't qualify either; not one of them is unrestricted in availability. The "right to life" is denied to persons convicted of a capital crime; the "right to liberty" is denied absolutely to convicted felons and, depending on their occupations, contextually to nearly everyone else; the right to "pursue happiness" is devoid of meaning.

Then there's "health," one of the Benedict Arnolds of our discourse. Are you healthy, Gentle Reader? How long would you stay that way, given the normal progression of events? How about in a world devoid of maleficent microorganisms and traffic accidents? With medical intervention, or without it? Good health is merely the slowest rate at which one can die.

Finally we come to "care." What constitutes "care" in this context? However healthy you may be, imagine yourself sick. What constitutes care depends on the disease and its severity, no? Is "care" required to make you well, to prolong your life by some span, or just to alleviate your pain between now and your last breath? As we've already noted, regardless of which objective you specify for your "care," there'll be a price on it, possibly a high one.

Your Curmudgeon has been sidling up toward a number of provocative questions:

• Should health care really be "universal?" That is, should the identity, habits, and character of the subject have no bearing whatsoever on the sort of medical care he can demand as a right?
• Should health care be understood so stringently as this: whatever is required to return the patient to a condition of perfect health -- ? What about self-inflicted injuries, genetic defects, and lifestyle-related diseases? What about conditions for which only palliatives exist? What about health deficiencies incurred through contributory negligence; for example, lung cancer, which is strongly correlated with smoking?
• Should the price of health care ever enter into the decision whether or not to render it? Price is an indication of difficulty, of resources required, and of opportunities forgeone. $1 million spent to save one man from death by AIDS might mean that ten persons cannot be saved from their brain tumors, or a hundred persons might be denied the drugs that would cure their diptheria. No purse is infinitely deep; choices of this sort will be made by someone.
• What about the impact of medical treatments? If two persons await equally costly medical procedures but only one can be treated with the resources available, does it matter which one will benefit more? For that matter, what of the terminal patient whom nothing can save, but whose life can be extended by a few more weeks or months by an excruciatingly expensive regimen? Every dollar spent on him is a dollar unavailable for treating persons who might be restored to "perfect health." Given that his condition will inevitably and foreseeably kill him, ought we to squander resources on him that might do more good if applied to others?

Worst of all the aspects of the health-care controversy is the insistence, mostly by liberals but gaining increasing acceptance among conservatives as well, that health care should be considered a right. In that view, to deny a man the medical goods and services he demands is to commit a felony against him. Rights are absolute; they make no room for considerations of better or worse. If a man has a right to life, then we may not kill him, no matter what good we might imagine would flow from his demise. If a man has a right to his property, we may not take it from him without his consent, no matter what worthy projects we might undertake if it were ours rather than his.

If a man has a right to health care, then no matter how sick he is, nor how he got that way, nor what our medical science can do for him, nor how imminent his demise, nor how treating him would deprive others, he must be granted that which he seeks.

Perhaps you've pondered some of these questions before this, Gentle Reader. They're but a few of the thorns that festoon the universal-health-care thicket,. They won't go away simply by making government the agency that answers them. Indeed, politicizing health care -- turning it into a right -- will only guarantee that the favor of politicians, bureaucrats, and persons with the ability to influence them will trump any other consideration.

Food for thought.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Woodpushers’ Corner: The Value Of Patience

Fran has been trying to teach me patience at the board. He's gotten somewhere, but as good a teacher as he is, he's an even better demonstrator:

White is apparently either unknowledgeable about the Sicilian, or afraid of Fran's opening knowledge. Whatever the case, he's allowed Black a free hand in the center, at the cost of a couple of doubled Pawns -- a price a devotee of the Dragon Sicilian is often willing to pay. The push to d5 reveals the incoherence of the White formation: 18. ed is answered by Nxd4, and the Knight will be impossible to dislodge at an acceptable price.

White has surrendered the center to Black's c-Rook / black-squared Bishop / center Pawn mass. White's Queen is a juicy target with few places to hide. Yet there's nothing really dramatic coming, just a long, affectionate, smothering hug.

The pressure has grown too intense for White. Black's c-Rook and mass of center Pawns have proved to be stifling. If 23, de, Nc5 followed by d3. So White throws a Knight in the hope of freedom.

Fran's first Queen move of the game! (How can he wait so long?) The threat is Rc2. Together, the passed d-Pawn and the pressure against f2 are irresistible. Despite his Knight sacrifice, White has achieved no freedom at all -- and all Black has had to do is manuever his pieces onto good squares!

The d-Pawn has fulfilled its destiny! (So why won't he play me any more, hm?)

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Fran’s Sunday Ruminations: The Vampire and the Caretaker

Gavin's alarm clock buzzed with its usual peevish insistence. He cracked an eyelid, noted the hour and the pervading darkness, and pulled the covers over his head, hoping against hope that it wasn't really his least favorite morning of the week yet again.

It was not to be. Within seconds came his father's usual sharp knock.

"Come on, son." Even at three-thirty in the morning, Evan Conklin always sounded as relaxed and jovial as a man who's just finished a fine meal in the company of his best friends. "We've got work to do."

Gavin grumbled an obscenity and flung back the bedcovers with a sweep of his arm. The winter chill was upon him at once, singing along his spine loudly enough to make his teeth chatter. He slapped at the alarm clock with one hand while he groped for his robe with the other and hurried off to the bathroom for a shower and shave.

Gavin couldn't linger over his toilet if he was to set out at the appointed hour. Evan allowed him to sleep half an hour later than he allowed himself. It was hurry, hurry, hurry from the moment his feet touched his bedroom floor to the moment he buckled himself into the passenger seat of their car. The work, his father explained more than once, would not permit it.

Their destination was only a few miles away, but in the wee-hour blackness of a continental New York winter it seemed like an hour's ride. It was long enough for Gavin to fall back to sleep, but he didn't permit himself. One awakening per morning was more than enough. He forced himself to full alertness, stretching out his lower back, loosening the muscles in his arms, hips, and legs, and working his lungs open by steadily deepening his breathing. His father merely drove and said nothing.

Our Lady of the Pines was completely dark. Evan pulled a ring of keys from his coat pocket, thrust one into the lock that had only last spring been installed in the tall oaken doors, and shepherded them inside, flipping light switches as he went. The nave of the church blossomed into brightness. Evan headed directly for the mop closet, while Gavin went to fetch the vacuum cleaner.

Gavin had almost finished vacuuming the little church in preparation for the early Mass when the vampire fell upon him.

***

The creature was tall and evil of aspect. Its grip was cruelly tight. Its breath upon Gavin's neck stank of ordure and rotting flesh. Despite its form, it was hard to believe that something so foul could once have been a man.

It had him at its mercy, yet it did not strike. Its attention was fastened upon his father, who stared from the altar steps, mop dangling from his hand.

"Well?" the creature snarled. "Aren't you going to plead for mercy? Aren't you going to offer me your blood in place of your son's? It's customary, you know."

Evan smiled slightly. "No need."

"Oh? You'll concede me your son's life if I agree to spare yours, then?"

Gavin squirmed in terror, but the vampire's grip was inescapable. Evan shook his head. "Not at all. You won't be killing anyone this morning."

The vampire cackled. "Really? How do you plan to stop me?"

"I don't." With his eyes, Evan indicated the crucifix suspended above him. It evoked a snort of derision.

"Yet you see that I am here, in the heart of your imaginary God's house where I'm not even supposed to be able to enter, doing as I will with your boy." Gavin shuddered as the creature's talons ruffled his hair. "He looks a tasty morsel. I expect I will enjoy breaking fast more than usual this morning."

His father's gaze remained perfectly serene. "Go ahead, then. Feed on him."

A stillness forged of cold iron descended upon the church. Nothing moved nor stirred.

"Well?" Evan said. "What are you waiting for?"

The vampire did not respond.

"You have your victim," Evan pressed. "He's helpless in your grip. You know I can't stop you. Why haven't you struck him?"

"What makes you so sure I won't?" the vampire snarled. It crushed Gavin to itself with lung-emptying force, and he gasped in pain.

"It's perfectly simple," Evan said. "You won't because you can't. You don't really exist."

"What?" the vampire roared. "I stand here in your holy place, your son my helpless captive, mocking your Savior as the phantasm you take me to be. I hold your boy's life in my arms, and you deny my existence with such ease?"

"Of course," Evan said. "If God is real, then you are not. A just God would not permit the existence of a creature that could suck the soul out of a man's body and subject him to eternal torment, he having done no wrong of his own free will. And God exists. Therefore, you do not."

The vampire's grip loosened, and Gavin's fear was tinted with puzzlement.

"You see me before you," the creature said slowly. "You hear my voice and smell my odor. Your son feels my claws upon his flesh. Yet you refuse to believe in me, preferring your faith in a being you cannot see, hear, smell, taste, or touch. What gives you such confidence in your delusion, in the face of mortal peril?"

"It's quite simple," Evan said. "The characteristics assigned to your kind contradict all right and reason. Such creatures could not exist without destroying themselves. In a word, you are implausible. No, wait," he said. "Not implausible; impossible. A creature of supernatural strength and speed that feeds on human blood, yet cannot endure the light of day? A creature that converts its prey into competitors, ensuring both a geometrically increasing number of predators and a dwindling supply of fodder? The laws of nature as God wrote them literally forbid you to exist."

Gavin twisted again, and broke free of the creature's grip. He stumbled back and gazed upon the thing. But he could not reconcile what his eyes saw with the superhuman monster that had held him helpless a moment before. It seemed to have become insubstantial, ghostly, a mere appearance projected on the screen of reality by some unseen mechanism.

"You truly believe this?" The vampire's voice had fallen to a whisper.

Evan Conklin said, "I do so believe."

And the thing faded from sight.

***

Gavin awoke in a tumult of fright. He could not remember every detail of the dream that had catapulted him from slumber, but the overpowering sense of helplessness and terror, of being at the mercy of something merciless that no human strength could oppose, still pulsed within him. He sat up, switched on his bedside lamp, and breathed as slowly and deeply as he could manage, struggling to calm himself.

His door opened slowly. His father's head poked out from behind it.

"Everything all right, son?"

Gavin nodded, unwilling to trust his voice. Evan entered and sat beside him on his bed.

"Bad dream?"

Gavin nodded again, and Evan grinned.

"I know how rugged they can be. I used to have some pretty vivid ones, at your age." He rose and made for the door. "A shower will help. We'll hit the diner after Mass."

Gavin extracted himself from his bed and plunged into his Sunday morning ritual. When he buckled himself into the passenger seat of his father's car, and Evan had backed them out of the driveway and onto Kettle Knoll Way, he said, "Dad? Do you ever...doubt?"

"Hm? Our faith in God, you mean?" Evan kept his eyes on the dark ribbon of road unwinding before them.

"Yeah." Gavin braced himself for the answer. What he got was not what he expected.

"Now and then," his father said. "It's hard not to doubt something you can't see or touch. But faith isn't about certainty. It's about will."

"So you...will away your doubts?"

Evan chuckled. "That would be a neat trick, wouldn't it?" He pulled the Mercedes Maybach into the small side parking lot of Our Lady of the Pines, parked and killed the engine. "No, I simply command myself to do as I know I should do. Faith is expressed just as much by our deeds as by our words. As long as I can consistently act from faith, I can keep my grip on it, regardless of my doubts." He nodded toward the unlit church, barely visible in the darkness. "You might say that's why we're here."

Gavin marveled. "And all this time I thought it was because the parish was too poor to pay for professional cleaning staff."

That brought a snort and a guffaw. "Get serious. Though the way you vacuum, I don't wonder that Father Ray would rather have our money than your labor. No, it's that hiring your chores done distances you from them. You can't afford to do too much of that if you want to remain connected to life. I pay a cleaning lady to look after our house, but doing this for the parish keeps us involved in parish life, and mindful of...well, of a lot of things." He cuffed his son affectionately. "Let's get moving. We're already behind schedule."

***

May God bless and keep you all.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

CHRC Hiring Standards Must Be Very Low

After all, we don't expect the self-exalted of the power elite to caricature themselves:

I wonder if it isn't time for the National Post to cool its attacks on the Canadian Human Rights Commission ("The CHRC Doesn't Get it," editorial, April 8). Ask yourselves whether maybe, just maybe, it isn't the Post that "doesn't get it." Try to take a look at the facts from a different perspective.

Is a 19th-century English philosopher (even John Stuart Mill, whom I admire greatly as a defender of individual rights against an overbearing state) really the best arbiter of Canadian human rights standards in the 21st century? At the time Mill wrote, England was openly racist, sexist and anti-Semitic. After two disastrous world wars and the horrors of the holocaust, we are surely obliged to judge rather differently the anything-goes theory of free speech.

What is writer Maxwell Yalden -- "a former Canadian Human Rights Commissioner and member of the UN Human Rights Committee" -- trying to get us to infer? That "anything-goes free speech" somehow gave rise to the World Wars and the Nazi genocides? Where's the connective tissue?

At the international level, the premier United Nations human rights treaty, the Covenant on Civil and Political rights, to which more than 150 countries, including Canada, are parties, asserts quite explicitly that " advocacy of national, racial or religious hatred shall be prohibited by law." At the international level, the premier United Nations human rights treaty, the Covenant on Civil and Political rights, to which more than 150 countries, including Canada, are parties, asserts quite explicitly that "advocacy of national, racial or religious hatred shall be prohibited by law." For more than 30 years, the judgments of the UN's Human Rights Committee have been accepted worldwide.

That's news to your Curmudgeon. We certainly haven't accepted them in the United States. Nor are we likely to endorse the UN's ludicrous "Covenant on Civil and Political Rights," which directly contradicts our Constitutional guarantees, any time soon.

The Canadian Human Rights Act, with its Section 13 forbidding material that exposes individuals to "hatred or contempt" on racial or religious grounds, simply follows these global standards. It also follows plain common sense. We all know, to cite the old saw, that "you can't shout 'fire' in a crowded theatre."

The exception for "shouting fire in a crowded theatre" -- strictly speaking, words that are likely to evoke violence or panic -- has always, and rightly, been regarded as very narrow. There must be a demonstrable risk of violence or panic, and a demonstrable intent on the part of the speaker to bring it about.

We also know that you cannot use a public podium to promote violent racist or anti-Semitic propaganda.

This is a form of the fallacy called the appeal to the consequences of a belief, or, in some instantiations, begging the question.

The Internet is the public podium of the 21st century, and people of good will share the view that there have to be some restrictions on what can be promoted on the Web.

So one who dissents is not a person of good will? That's the modern form of ad hominem rhetoric: "If you disagree with me, you're a bad person!"

What the limits on free speech should be, and what standards should be acceptable "in a free and democratic society," to quote the Charter of Rights, are and always should be open to public discussion. And the National Post should recognize that the high road of civilized debate is more productive than below-the-belt bashing of our human-rights institutions.

Which makes a complete mockery of the notion of freedom: No standard arrived at by "democratic" means, whether direct or representative, could be barred from including a provision that criminalizes criticizing it. No doubt this has occurred to Mr. Yalden; no doubt he's desperate to prevent it from occurring to us.

One who is barred from speaking against the current consensus -- whatever it might be, whoever might have been charged with articulating it and establishing the penalties for violating it -- is not free in any sense of the word, whether traditional or trendy. But it's clear from his essay that Mr. Yalden regards rights as gifts from government, rather than the natural inheritances of individuals from human nature -- and still clearer that he wants no more sunlight to shine on his beloved "Human Rights Commissions," an Orwellian designation if ever there was one.

Canada is a lovely country filled with lovely people. Your Curmudgeon and his brood have greatly enjoyed their time visiting it. But if Mr. Yalden is the sort of voluble totalitarian it admits to its halls of power, Americans would be well advised not to contemplate moving there, much less incorporating it into our Union as many have suggested in years past.

***

The five prominent Canadian bloggers now under attack by the hyperlitigious Richard Warman and his collaborators on the CHRC are in desperate need of funds for their defense. Your Curmudgeon can imagine no better object for one's generosity. If you can afford it, and if you believe in the sanctity of real human rights, as opposed to the insupportable fictions promulgated by Mr. Yalden and his ilk, please consider donating to their cause.

***

Applause to Sithmonkey at Cold Fury for the link to Mr. Yalden's op-ed.