‘St. Louis Today claims that the suspects wanted to bomb the Gateway Arch in addition to their human targets’
Ed Driscoll writes:
So wanting to make the latest New Yorker cover a reality, in other words:
It’s a sad commentary on sad commentary when a football player makes more sense than almost everybody
It was pretty lonely here at “Maybe both sides are jerks”-ville until Benjamin Watson showed up.
Ann Coulter: ‘While I don’t approve of the looting part, I do approve of the whole throwing-bottles-at-CNN part’
Ann Coulter writes:
About a half-dozen black witnesses supported Officer Wilson’s version of what happened. One was a black woman, who saw the shooting from the Canfield Green apartments. Crying on the stand, she said, “I have a child and that could have been my son.”
And yet, she confirmed all crucial parts of Wilson’s account. She said “the child” (292-pound Big Mike) never had his hands up and the cop only fired when “the baby” was coming at him. “Why won’t that boy stop?” she asked her husband.
I always want to know more about the heroic black witnesses. They are put in a position no white person will ever be in and do the right thing by telling the truth — then go into hiding from “the community” being championed by goo-goo liberals.
White people don’t feel any obligation to defend some thug just because he’s white. Only blacks are expected to lie on behalf of criminals of their own race.
But real heroism doesn’t interest liberals. They only ooh-and-ahh over blacks with rap sheets. The only meaningful white racism anymore is the liberal infantilization of black people.
…Hicks’ brand of political commentary is the sort that, had he not died of pancreatic cancer in 1994, might have evolved in its viewpoint from a left-leaning “the government is out to turn you into blindly accepting sheep who question nothing and do as you are told” to Jones’ rather more right-leaning perspective on “the government is out to turn you into blindly accepting sheep who question nothing and do as your are told.”
You don’t stumble across such things very often these days, particularly when the poet is one of those “MFAs in Creative Writing.”
(Whatever did Kafka and Rilke do without such things…?)
But technically, this is impressive indeed.
I suspect this unfashionably formal poem will be rapidly and heavily anthologized, and even make its way into some curricula, because not only is it uncharacteristically accomplished but it, unfortunately, genuflects at all the right (I mean, left) moments.
I left a comment, the essence of which will be familiar to long time 5FF readers:
An exceptionally fine poem — a rarity these days — with a flawed premise.
America’s militarized police are a disgrace; like police everywhere, they are too often time-serving bureaucrats, but with guns. However, in America, they seem not to have gotten the message that RoboCop was supposed to be satire.
That said, the idea that individuals are being shot by cops “just because of the color of their skin” and that hair color (or eye color) is an apt metaphor for skin color, is something out of Sesame Street — or, in the latter case, cruel Maoist child abuse disguised as a progressive social experiment. (And praised as such by the same people who are forever bullying us about “bullying.”)
Race is not just a social construct. Ask sickle cell anemia (if you could.) If it were such, then surely forensic anthropology is no more than modern-day phrenology and should be condemned, no?
I’m just a lowly Canadian (who wishes Michael Moore would stop telling lies about us, btw.) But if you’ll permit another outsider’s perspective…
“Always glad to help. The answer is that if you account for one obvious cultural difference–the larger black population in the United States–the United States of America’s murder rate is pretty much the same as ours, despite the huge disparity in handgun ownership. Black Americans are 13% of the U.S. population and commit over half of America’s homicides.
“Follow that last link and you’ll see that, according to the FBI at least, the non-black U.S. population of 244 million committed 5,447 murders in 2001. (That’s not counting the statistical outlier of Sept. 11, of course.) The Canadian government doesn’t break down its figures by race, but the Canadian Centre for Justice Statistics’ 2000 figures show 542 homicides in Canada–a typical figure–amongst about 28 million Canadians. Our murder rate for the whole populace is 87% of the rate amongst U.S. non-blacks. If you were to try and establish a non-black Canadian murder rate by removing the negligible number of Canadian blacks from the numerator and the denominator, the resulting rate would certainly be lower than 87%, but not by more than a couple of points.
“Of course, if you’re determined not to believe “cultural differences” count for anything, none of this is relevant. Still, the stats are right there in (cough, cough) black and white. To me it looks very much as if factor A, the difference in ethnic makeup, massively outweighs factor B, the difference in gun policy. Damian’s not wrong to bring up factor B, but doesn’t mention factor A at all. I thought someone ought to.”
John Derbyshire writes:
That’s the disparate impact argument. Statistical disparities like that can only be the result of malice toward blacks: of racism.
Since these disparities have barely changed across an entire generation—on some indicators of household wealth, academic achievement, and incarceration they have actually gotten worse—it must be the case that white racism is as bad today as 25 years ago. Does anyone believe this?
Fraser’s methods of torturing the gang’s victims earned him the nicknames “Mad Frankie” and “The Dentist” – he was reputed to pull out people’s teeth with pliers.
At the Richardson gang “torture” trial at the Old Bailey in 1967 he was jailed for 10 years. Two years later a further five years was added for leading a riot at Parkhust Prison.
In 1975 he assaulted three prison officers, one of whom he attempted to hang.
After completing another sentence in 1989, Fraser tried to build a career as a celebrity, appearing on television chat shows, acting as a consultant on crime and taking a stage show to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival.
In 1997, he was called as a character witness at the trial of Charlie Kray on drugs charges.
Last year he was reported to have received an Asbo following an argument over a chair in the care home where he lived.
‘Although ‘Bunny Lake Is Missing’ features a pop act in it and was made in the mid 1960s, it’s actually the antithesis of ‘Swinging London.”
Actually, there’s some evidence that Swinging London was the antithesis of Swinging London.
But that’s another post…
It was a common trend to insert rock performers into feature films during this period, with virtually every British Invasion band being seen in such a cinematic fashion. Here, Preminger cast The Zombies, one of the best and most underrated British rock bands of the 1960s (a version of the band still performs with original members Colin Blunstone and Rod Argent), and they are seen briefly on a television set (on a “Ready, Steady, Go!” type program) in a London pub and are heard performing three great songs (not any of their big hits): “Remember You”, “Just Out of Reach” and “Nothing’s Changed” (“Just Out of Reach” is later heard again on a janitor’s radio in the hospital scene). The band received prominent billing and was even featured on radio spots and one of the theatrical trailers…
(Oh, and note this line from Noel Coward’s writer character: “Some would be honored — may I tell you that? — by my touch. There are those in the BBC who bear like medals bruises left by the love of Horatio Wilson.”)
He gets so much wrong, it’s ridiculous.
In fairness, one critical detail reported by many conservative and MSM sources last August was that Office Darren Wilson suffered a severe orbital fracture. The pictures show (as I suspected) that this was not the case and that the initial report from Gateway Pundit was not true.
The Jewish strain in comedy is increasingly viewed as belonging to a lost era. When Joan Rivers died, she was celebrated as an old master who defined what we thought of as a Jewish comedian: a New Yorker with an unmistakable accent and inflections, whose broad insult humour “attacked the beautiful people, who were mostly non-Jewish, or Jewish converts like Elizabeth Taylor,” says Dorinson.
Alan Zweig, a Canadian documentary filmmaker, made a film called When Jews Were Funny, which premiered last year at the Toronto Film Festival, where he argues that Jewish humour is a dying art in general. Zweig says he has told audiences that while today’s best Jewish comics may be as funny as the old ones, “in my experience, the average Jew in the deli might be less funny than their grandparents. I didn’t get a lot of disagreement.”