OOPS. Did an intemperate, incoherent post late last night, and have removed it. (What's your excuse for the leaving the rest of them up?--ed. Where were you when I needed you?--re) It was about Andrew Sullivan's response to Sam Tanenhaus on Ann Coulter and what ST seems to consider her erstwhile enablers (now critics) in the conservative movement. Sullivan thinks Tanenhaus unfairly "paint[s] diverse and serious writers like Dorothy Rabinowitz and David Horowitz as indistinguishable from Coulter." Well, Horowitz did write things like "Traitor in Chief," which more or less accused Clinton of selling us out to the Red Chinese. It's just a hop, skip, and a jump (maybe just a hop, actually) from that sort of thing to Coulterland. So it's piquant to see him, and a few others, now drawing a cordon sanitaire around her work.

But on sober reflection, it may be a good thing that they've distanced themselves from Coulter, even if only for ass-covering purposes. The high pitch of internet discourse hasn't been the best friend of reason -- I'm living proof of that -- and a dial-down here and there can't hurt.

[SIC]. A recent post from Andrew Sullivan:

DARK DAY FOR KRUGMAN: His hopes for recession seem to be receding.

If you don't know what's bughouse about this, explaining it to you would be a waste of my time.

CRAZIER THAN YOU THOUGHT. Leah at Eschaton has the proper attitude toward U.S. Institute of Peace board nominee Daniel Pipes. But I'm afraid she doesn't know the half of it (though the half she does know is pretty damning). In addition to his kill-'em-all-let-Michael-Ledeen-sort-'em-out approach to Middle Eastern affairs, Pipes has some interesting ideas about academic freedom here in the U.S. As I wrote back in November:

Columnist Daniel Pipes is unfailingly hard on Arabs, but he's murder on American professors of the antiwar persuasion. In this New York Post throwdown, he says our typical university is "a topsy-turvy world in which professors consider the United States (not Iraq) the problem and oil (not nukes) the issue." He also says the cloth-eared crowd "despise their own country," and describes them as "inept," "cranky and mistaken," and "the major American institution most alienated from the rest of the country."

After he's got that off his chest, Pipes gets down to prescriptions: "The time has come," he says, "for adult supervision of the faculty and administrators at many American campuses. Especially as we are at war, the goal must be for universities to resume their civic responsibilities."

One might wonder when unthinking compliance with Administration policy became an educational responsibility, but Pipes has no time to explain--he's got a plan: "This can be achieved if outsiders (alumni, state legislators, non-university specialists, parents of students and others) take steps to create a politically balanced atmosphere, critique failed scholarship, establish standards for media statements by faculty and broaden the range of campus discourse."

(Well, if I don't quote myself, who will? By the way, I'm the new new Orwell. Pass it on.)

Pipes' plan to send flying squads of thought police to college seems to me reason enough to keep him away from power, and perhaps sharp objects, for the duration.

SHORTER JONAH GOLDBERG: "I'm not nuts! You're nuts!"

(Best imagined as Albert Brooks screaming into the speakerphone in Real Life.)

FACES OF DEATH. I can't quite fathom why the deaths of Torturedee and Torturedum were supposed to be a boon to Wall Street. They must be hungry for good news. ("Uday's dead! This'll drive pork bellies through the roof!")

Not to rain on the bonfire, but what threat did those two pose anymore? Their father's regime is good and dead, and given what has been said about the lads, one can hardly imagine them mounting a fiercely loyal Saddamite resistance ("Follow me, boys, and tonight I will feast on the flesh of your tortured bride!").

Well, any port in a storm, I suppose. Iraq is a bloody shirt that anyone can wave; if you're of one mind, you can flog the risk to military lives, the feckless management, and the senseless waste and overreach of the whole affair, and if you're of another, you can flaunt "Democracy! Whiskey! Sec'y of Defense!" and such like. The posted pix of the brothers' shattered melons give the latter faction a chance to whoop. It'll be someone else's turn soon enough.

Meanwhile dollars and lives continue to sink into Iraqi sand. Someday they'll kill Saddam Senior, and the footage will be available on streaming video, but that won't turn the sand to concrete.

IT'S A FAIR COP, BUT SOCIETY'S TO BLAME. Ted Barlow says I'm "often unfair but always hilarious." He's too kind on both counts. Good luck at the new job, Ted, and I hope you don't really have to stop posting altogether.

HOPE FOR OUR YOUNG PEOPLE. "One of the most popular campaigns to curb alcohol use on campus hasn’t reduced student drinking and may actually have increased it, according to a new report from the Harvard School of Public Health’s College Alcohol Study." -- MSNBC.

I had previously worried that the kids were devolving into something docile and feeble. I'm still not sure they aren't -- their music sucks, and their taste in novelty liquor products suggests rampant pussification. But if an anti-alcohol propaganda campaign makes them want to get even more drunk, maybe their heads are screwed on straighter than I thought.

HAYSEED UNHEARD FROM. I see by Newsday that Celia Cruz's "funeral procession was led by white horses pulling a hearse, followed by limousines and a statue of the patron saint of Cuba, Our Lady of Charity."

When may we expect that asshole Rod Dreher to write a snotty column about it?

BOOBS. With the country safely in the hands of war profiteers and Jesus freaks, movement conservatives now have leisure to attend to cultural matters. At OpinionJournal, Collin Levey makes a conservative case for breast implants. "A boob job is certainly safer than eating arsenic or removing ribs, things earlier generations of women did for beauty," says Ms. Levey. Besides, breast implants piss off feminists. Boo yah!

I guess my preference for real tits is part of what makes me a liberal. I'll leave the silicon sacks to the Heritage Foundation boys.

IT HAPPENED JUST THAT WAY. At NRO's The Corner, they're telling stories about how cool people love them and lame people hate them. Brookhiser gets props from a biker. Jack Fowler (who he?) goes him one better, or worse:

As the train pulled into Grand Central Station, we got up and walked to the door, next to which was an aging hippie and Cruella Deville look-alike who gasped upon seeing my “NATIONAL REVIEW” shirt and hat. She conniptioned: “How could anyone have the nerve except Buckley to wear that,” etc. “Gee mam,” I respond, hoping to give her a greater reason to hate me, “I not only wear the clothes, I work there too.” “You’re intolerant” she hisses intolerantly. I smiled, tipped my cap, and said: “Have a wonderful weekend."

Kinda like a "Mallard Fillmore" strip come to life, ain't it? I have a story of my own, every bit as believable:

I was walking down Fifth Avenue, proudly wearing my DOPE, GUNS, AND FUCKING IN THE STREETS T-shirt, when a miserable, pinch-faced, squinty-eyed, fat, sweating, ugly, bad-smelling preacher, carrying a bible and drooling tobacco juice, let out a squeal and charged me, dragging by the hand former U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Jeanne Kirkpatrick, looking every bit of her 107 years of age. "You is doin' th' Devil's work!" squealed the preacher, "Y'all ought to get right with God, head out to the Red States, lynch niggers, stomp faggots, an' drive a S.U.V.!" Jeanne Kirkpatrick nodded her three-foot-long head in agreement. "I, too, hate people of color and homosexuals," she rasped, "and my car is rather large." I sprayed them both with my squirting flower and they melted into dust.

I SHOUTED OUT, WHO KILLED DAVE KELLEY?/WHEN AFTER ALL, IT WAS THE BBC! Shit floats. The nutty idea raised by Andrew Sullivan yesterday has risen to the status of a new Right-wing meme: the BBC killed David Kelley by exposing the reluctant whistleblower to the wrath of the Blair Government. Here, the New York Post parrots:

BBC officials refused to disclose their source, but said the story was based on "one senior and credible source in the intelligence services."

An understandably outraged Blair ordered an investigation, which quickly focused on Kelly, a microbiologist involved in the search for WMD.

Ordered to testify before a House of Commons panel, he insisted he couldn't have been the source - because he hadn't said anything remotely like what Gilligan reported.

"From [our] conversation, I don't see how he could make the authoritative statement he was making," said Kelly.

But when Kelly - obviously distraught over having been thrust into the limelight - took his own life last week, the BBC confessed that he had, in fact, been the network's source.

Problem is, Kelly was never in the intelligence services. Nor was he "one of the senior officials in charge of drawing up the dossier."

And, as he himself insisted just days before his death, he'd never said what the BBC claimed he said.

Indeed, if anyone is guilty of having "sexed up" the information it gave the public, it's the BBC - not Tony Blair.

Two things jump out. First, there is some debate as to how the reporter actually characterized Kelley's role. This will probably be clarified soon enough in England, but by then the perpetrators of the current anti-BBC story, having milked it for all its stateside value, will have moved on to some other outrage, obviating any need for retraction that may arise among those few Americans who give a shit about British politics.

Secondly, this interpretation asks us to believe that when and if the Beeb misrepresented Kelley, he thereafter had no chance of a fair hearing by the Blairites, hence the suicidal despair. Given that Kelley, in this imagining, would be extremely useful to the Blair government in denying the BBC story, why would they not then clamp him lovingly to their breast? Isn't it more likely that Kelley, finding himself a major figure in what is turning out to be the biggest British Government scandal since Profumo, got cold feet?

The truth of this case may be unknowable, but we may know that certain explanations are not only unlikely, but perfidious.

CLOGS, FROGS, SPROUTS, ETC. Victor Davis Hanson on nationalized name-calling:

Remember various Germans' eerie evocations of Bush/Hitler, "another Caesar," Jews in Miami and New York, clicking one's heels, the German way, and other foul nonsense. Certain French apparatchiks and their consorts weighed in with slurs against Turkey and Eastern Europe ("end of Europe," "foreign culture," the need to stay "in their places," etc.) or Israel ("sh**ty little country"). Canada's officials chimed in with "moron," and other assorted outbursts. In contrast, very few in the Bush administration engaged in such childish smears.

Well, of course they don't -- Bushites have people to do that for them. Like Ralph Peters in the New York Post:

Forget the fact that the German contribution to the Renaissance was the realization that you could fit more beer in a bigger mug... a German Green is a Gestapo wannabe with a red paint-job... little German babies...

Peters ends this diatribe with a prose poem about how ugly and ill-mannered he found these two Germans he saw once.

I think we can agree that this sort of thing, while enjoyable in small doses, is unseemly in high places (and at the Post). And it says something awful about the current crop of democracies, including ours, that some people think they can drum up public support with that kind of behavior.

DAVID KELLEY STILL DEAD. ANDREW SULLIVAN STILL NUTS. A source for the BBC's WMD allegations, scientist David Kelley, talks of "dark actors playing games," then turns up dead. Official report is suicide.

If you are not inclined to take official reports seriously, you might suspect that the Blair Government had something to do with Kelley's death. They had something to gain by his silencing, certainly.

That might be paranoid. But if that's paranoid, what clinical psychiatric term would describe blaming Kelley's death on the BBC? Why, Andrew Sullivan, of course:

It is certainly not to the credit of the Blair government that, when Kelly told his superiors of his contact with the BBC, they pushed Kelly into the limelight in their defense. But they are still not ultimately responsible for this tragedy. Kelly deserved to have his views accurately represented by the BBC, rather than hyped in a way that made him the center of a grueling public storm. That very hype destroyed his privacy and led this very private man to despair. Someone at the BBC must be held accountable. And resign.

This paragraph -- from its vague acknowledgement of the real issue in this case, to the even more vague implication that Kelley's revelations were "hyped" and therefore not "accurately represented," to the final absurd misdirection of blame -- is a masterpiece of dementia.

Of course, it's possible Sullivan's not crazy -- merely eagerly deflecting attention away from his beloved Tony Blair, and trying to make a twofer of it by implicating one of his many voodoo dolls.

Geez, it says something about the guy that even the most charitable explanations for his behavior make him look bad.

SLIGHTLY SHORTER GLENN REYNOLDS. Did I mention I'm not a Republican? Though I'm no Socialist either. Heh. (coughing into fist) Reagan!

You Democrats ought to stop obsessing on Bush's lies. No one cares. The French are evil. There was that 9/11 Commission, you should look into that -- what? You have? Heh, heh, I can't hear you. Heh, heh.

The President has shown himself amenable to invasions anywhere except Saudi Arabia. Many prominent conservatives want to invade Saudi Arabia. There's a winning issue for the party of Clinton!

Homeland Security is a mess. I believe Democrats have failed to notice.

And why have none of you made an issue of the FCC? Swing voters are waiting to be swayed by your opinions thereunto.

You're always tearing down, never building up. I hate you. That's why I spend many column inches giving you advice. You should take it. Suckers. Indeed.

IN DEFENSE OF PRISONER TUCK 'N' ROLLS. I see a convicted killer wants a sex change at taxpayer expense. Like most of you, I had at first a bad first reaction to it -- the situation carries a heavy "ick" factor, as the icky Jonah Goldberg might put it. But let's take a contrarian view (actually contrarian, not the bullshit normally peddled under that name) and see how we feel.

If we accept Ruskin's idea that the state of any society can be measured
by the condition of its prisons, we suck. But I think we are generally tilting in the right direction on that score. Even some conservatives, normally insensible to the suffering of others, have warmed to the issue of prison rape. If National Review columnists give a shit whether Guests of the State are sexually tortured, you know we've reached a watershed.

And also in general, we have for years been pushing out the boundaries as to what, medically speaking, constitutes the acceptable minimal quality of life. With close to 20 million Americans taking antidepressants, it may be that condition of mind is getting to be as significant a standard of health as condition of body was back in the days when we first started deploring rickets in children.

I know that most people hate prisoners, for reasons ranging from personal injury done by them to a free-floating and very American contempt for all unfortunates. But even the most sour apple will admit that the lowliest convict must be given food to sustain himself and perhaps a little exercise. As our MDR for a tolerable state of being is inexhorably lifted, might we one day accept that gender confusion is a cruel and unusual condition even for the least of us?

I'm inclined to think, looking more than usual at the way our society has gone during the span of my life (tomorrow is my birthday), that despite the exacerbations of our natural cruelty leaders and newsreaders try to excite at every opportunity, we will soon enough grant privileges to prisoners that are unimaginable at this moment.

Will we, nill we, we're getting kinder. You may think that's bad, criminal, idiotarian, but there it is. (Hell, with the WMD evidence looking flimsier every day, even the hardest among us point to the kindness done to Iraqis as the justification for invasion -- if that's how Republicans are turning, can you imagine what's going on with the rest of us?) You may gnash your teeth at the injustice represented by one human being getting a little break, but I am looking at the horizon, and it seems a little brighter. I've never been among that pinch-necked crew that thinks we have too many rights. Your mileage may vary, but I believe time is on my side.

A LITTLE GOOD NEWS. "Masturbation protects against prostate cancer." Well, that's just the icing on the cake, so to speak.

So fellas, visit this newcomer to the blogosphere and blow a wad a votre sante!

"NEVER GET OUT OF THE BOAT." Freddie Forrest in "Apocalypse Now" knew it was a bad idea, but did it anyway and almost got eaten by a tiger. I knew reading Instapundit would piss me off. When will I learn? From the Perfesser's parsing today of a Times of London story about documents that suggest Italy was also duped about Nigerian uranium:

[A reader] adds: "Let's see. Italians fooled. Brits fooled. CIA left out of the loop until it was too late and the Govt presentation was compromised... Soooo... I guess that leaves France as the perp. Which is what everybody knows already, but pretends not to." Sounds plausible. Is it true? I don't know. But somebody does.

The really maddening thing is, you can't tell whether he's kidding or not. Now, I know he used to have that quote up on his site about having a dry sense of humor that many people are allegedly unable to get -- but sometimes when people are incomprehensible, it's not because they're geniuses, but because they're incoherent. IP floats so many ridiculous ideas that there's no telling whether he means this one. I guess a "heh" or an "indeed" might help.

Aaargh! (rubbing skull, Spock-like) Forget... forget...

LAST REPLACEMENTS LYRIC OF THE NIGHT: Who will be the next to dry your lashes?/Who knows?

HEY NOW, YOU'RE AN ALL-STAR. Great game tonight. The MLB directive that this shall determine home-field advantage in the October Classic (instituted after last year's debacle -- scroll, ye bastards, to July 9, 2002!), turns out to have been brilliant. Hank Blalock's homer was a great moment, but the whole chess match was worth watching. So much is ill done, what a pleasure to see something well done. Especially when it's a ballgame.

(On the stereo: The Replacements, "Another Girl, Another Planet.")

YO EL ROY. Here's another weblog by a guy named Roy! Looks like he's doing alright. I knew nearly everyone on the web was better off than me, but to find a guy with my rarified name -- a name that means King, after all -- in that distant, high-floating, wave-at-the-drowning-man boat is... piquant.

(On the stereo: The Replacements, "Portland.")