New Scandal at DOJ as Illegal Guitars End Up in Hands of Mexican Drug Lords.
The indispensable Iowahawk reports.
But the truth is, -- I am not a wise man ; ---- and besides am a mortal of so little consequence in the world, it is not much matter what I do ; so I seldom fret or fume at all about it. -- Tristam Shandy
New Scandal at DOJ as Illegal Guitars End Up in Hands of Mexican Drug Lords.
That's a pretty entertaining job of channelling, that is.
As opposed, that is, to some cult-member babbling about how "the science is settled" on the basis of computer models that consistently fail to produce accurate predictions.
Reputations may rise and fall. But in the end, this is a victory for science. No theory is carved in stone. Science is merciless when it comes to testing all theories over and over, at any time, in any place. Unlike religion or politics, science is ultimately decided by experiments, done repeatedly in every form. There are no sacred cows. In science, 100 authorities count for nothing. Experiment counts for everything.
This is a magnificent example of good communicating skills. There has been lots of discussion about why the United States had its credit downgraded, and whether it should have, and whose fault it is. And you all, Gentle Readers, have heard the numbers being tossed around about the debt, the deficit, budget cuts, etc. -- and it probably hasn't made much impact because all the discussion is in terms of numbers with vapor trails of zeroes after them.
I'm seeing a Landry interception coming here...
Now this was an English professor whose classes might actually have been worth attending. Or, well, considering that MSNBC adds a critical piece of information omitted by the Irish Times, maybe not: "[Dr. Barbarian's] stated classroom policy is to crucify students who cheat or show weakness."
Long Room Hub Associate Professor in Hyborian Studies and Tyrant Slaying.
Dr Conan T. Barbarian was ripped from his mother's womb on the corpse-strewn battlefields of his war-torn homeland, Cimmeria, and has been preparing for academic life ever since. A firm believer in the dictum that "that which does not kill us makes us stronger," he took time out to avenge the death of his parents following a sojourn pursuing his strong interest in Post-Colonial theory at the Sorbonne. In between, he spent several years tethered to the fearsome "Wheel of Pain", time which he now feels helped provide him with the mental discipline and sado-masochistic proclivities necessary to sucessfully tackle contemporary critical theory. He completed his PhD, entitled "To Hear The Lamentation of Their Women: Constructions of Masculinity in Contemporary Zamoran Literature" at UCD and was appointed to the School of English in 2006, after sucessfully decapitating his predecessor during a bloody battle which will long be remembered in legend and song. In 2011/12, he will be teaching on the following courses: "The Relevance of Crom in the Modern World", "Theories of Literature", "Vengeance for Beginners", "Deciphering the Riddle of Steel" and "D.H. Lawrence". He strongly objects to the terms of the Croke Park agreement and the current trend for remaking 1980s films that he believes were perfectly good enough in the first place.
He is happy to hear from potential research students with an interest of any of these topics, but applicants should note that anyone found guilty of academic misconduct or weakness in the face of the enemy will be crucified as an example to the others.
This is brilliant!
...it's hard to beat Bernie Marcus's ad-lib line from an MSNBC interview last year, when he was explaining why Team Obama's optimism about the economy was catastrophically misguided: "Geithner does to small business people what Debbie did to Dallas."
...one can only conclude that Obama is an ass, which is my private opinion, and which I now take the liberty of making public.
Instapundit addresses the President...
It's a bad thing when cops are both incompetent and armed -- the wrong people die. "What is notable is that, as nytimes.com reports, eight officers firing 73 bullets at one shooter managed to hit him only twice." (HT: Insty.)
...they're some of the worst shots I've ever seen in my life. I saw a shootout once live on TV that went on so long eventually the criminal got frustrated and just shot himself. And the cops are on TV whinin' about it, too; they're like, "He's got on body armor, he's got on body armor." I'm watchin' it live on CNN, goin', "I can see his head. Shoot him in the head!"...[Later, talking about the Kehoe brothers] These guys have a shootout with the police at point-blank range -- nobody gets hurt. I would love to have been at the [police] office the next day when that guy's being interviewed by the police: "And then what happened?"
"Well, at that point I unloaded my semi-automatic nine-millimeter weapon at point-blank range."
"And then what happened?"
Nice shootin', Elmer Fudd. There was a kid in Michigan three years ago, shot eight bullets, hit nine people. These cops shot 22 bullets, didn't even hit the [censored] Suburban.
Apparently he was a poor black child.
Because you have to put up with conversations such as these two:
Because Lileks can come up with lines like this: "[Obama's] oratorical panache now consists of looking from one teleprompter screen to the other with the enthusiasm of a man watching someone else's kids play tennins." (HT: Michael Greenspan.)
...But the thing that really caught my attention was that Obama never looks at the camera. He looks at a forty-five degree angle or so off to his right, and then he swings back to look at a forty-five degree angle or so off to his left. Then he looks back to his right. Then back to his left. He's practically a metronome. And he's always looking at the same elevation, have you noticed? He never looks down at the people in the front row, never elevates his eyes to the "ceiling fans," as I once heard a pop singer call the fans in the back row of the balcony. For a long time I couldn't figure out what was up with that -- right up until I saw how astonishingly badly he floundered in any venue in which he is forced to ad-lib rather than use his teleprompter. And the penny finally dropped: Obama reads his whole speech word-for-word from the teleprompters. He looks at the teleprompter on his right, and then he swings back to look at the teleprompter on his left. Then he looks back at the teleprompter on his right. Then back to the one on his left.
Now, Dubya is never going to be mistaken for a great orator. But even Dubya knew his own speeches well enough to take his eyes away from the teleprompter every now and then and look at the camera. So now I get the hugest kick out of watching Obama give a speech, because I just watch his head move to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right...and I laugh myself silly.
The irrepressible Dr. Tony Copperfield, in his hilarious book Sick Notes, has a chapter complaining of how counterproductive "[fill in disease here] Awareness Weeks" are, and of how addicted (naturally) Britain's National Health Service is to filling the entire calendar with one "[Disease de la Semaine] Awareness Week" after another. And in the middle of his rant he passes on this tidbit: "Not long back, Sami Patel [one of his fellow doctors] sent a letter to the PCT asking whether it was his imagination, or had Premature Ejaculation Day come early that year?"
It's 3:00 in the afternoon, and I'm about to do some work at Panera Bread while Helen's off on her church retreat and the kids are in youth group. As is my wont, I order a mug of coffee, and then stride over to the counter where four large coffee containers stand proudly, each with a sign showing what time they were last refreshed. I note that the urn for the decaffeinated coffee still shows "9:40" as its most recent refresh time; I thank my lucky stars that I don't drink fake coffee; and I decide helpfully to call the situation to the attention of the staff.
I'd like to have Phil Ray Gage for a neighbor. I'd certainly not like to have whoever the rectal-cranially inverted jerk who called the cops is, for a neighbor. And as for the cop who actually wrote him a citation...if she has a husband, I pity the fool.
From Theodore Dalrymple, reviewing Virginia Woolfe's Three Guineas:
The Cambridge guide to English Literature describes Three Guineas as an established classic -- but a classic of what genre exactly? Of political philosophy? Contemporary history? Sociological analysis? No: it is a locus classicus of self-pity and victimhood as a genre in itself. In this, it was certainly ahead of its time, and it deserves to be on the syllabus of every department of women's studies at every third-rate establishment of higher education...The book might be better titled: How to Be Privileged and Yet Feel Extremely Aggrieved.