‘Professor Robert W. Sussman of Washington University (…) recently published an attack on Jared Taylor in Salon.com’
Unlike everything published on VDARE.com, and for that matter in American Renaissance, this attack contained no links and no footnotes.
This made somewhat difficult for American Renaissance Editor Jared Taylor to reply to Sussman’s attack, as he can only say he didn’t say the things he’s accused of saying. Nevertheless, he was easily able to show that Sussman’s piece was riddled with factual errors. (…)
But this “anti-racist” witch-hunting from Tucker and Sussman is nothing but tainted sources. The method used by Tucker, and purloined by Sussman, is a combination of what I’ve called “Ransom Note Racism” (out-of-context snippets, sometimes single words, frequently unsourced) “guilt by association”, (whether actually associated or not) and something very like the parlor game of Telephone, in which smears are repeated from ear to ear until they become nonsensical/ super-smears.
Theodore Dalrymple writes:
So I suppose you think that people ought to pull themselves together,” one of the guests replied (more or less).
Now I had never denied that some people cannot get better by the mere exercise of their own will, determination, and intelligence; but when they can and when they can’t is a matter of judgment. What I found most interesting about the guest’s remark, however, was the cultural shift that it implied, for the notion of pulling yourself together is apparently now applied only in the context of ridicule. A person who calls upon another to pull himself together is thereby showing himself to be a crude, and possibly a vindictive and cruel, person, a kind of psychological primitive whose geographical equivalent would be someone who believed that the earth was flat.
Now let us examine the matter in slightly more detail.
Probably the most resourceful director of the American cinema, Edgar G. Ulmer carved out a reputation for making stylish, strange and often innovative films while being shackled to budgets that were, by Hollywood standards, microscopic. Working outside the major studio system had its drawbacks but Ulmer accepted the lack of production resources in exchange for a much greater degree of creative freedom. Ulmer used this freedom to explore his personal interests and to bend, almost to the breaking point, the conventions of genre filmmaking.
Carnegie Hall (1947) is an epic-length cinematic love letter to classical music from one of America’s most important, if elusive and enigmatic, directors. Fans and scholars who celebrate Edgar G. Ulmer as a heroic outsider artist tend to focus their attention on his most impoverished productions – they fit better into the preferred storyline that he was a brilliant filmmaker whose talents were best expressed far from the cookie-cutter mentality of mainstream studio-driven Hollywood. There is another reading of his life, better suited to the facts but far less romantic: he was a sometimes difficult person who suffered the consequences of some poor career decisions and some plain ol’ bad luck. Carnegie Hall, certainly one of the most singular and distinctive films of the 1940s, is yet sadly overlooked. Critics and historians who wish to use Ulmer’s biography as a way to ennoble his smaller films have no use for it, while the ranks of those who would use his bigger films as a way of better understanding his biography are fairly thin in number.
Ed Driscoll notes that Steyn’s new book opens with a bit about Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky, and:
Mark’s PR people managed to convince Lewinsky to join Twitter on the very same day The Undocumented Mark Steyn debuts. “Monica Lewinsky Joins Twitter—To Fight Cyberbullying,” Fast Company.com reports today; since the Hillary Clinton campaign and its operatives at Media Matters and CNN are experts on the topic, I can’t wait to see Monica’s incredible lack of response when the cyberbullying really starts to fly — which it likely will starting sometime in mid-November, or perhaps early next year.
Cardinal revealed as an outright two-faced liar who, even worse, tried to take an honest lay journalist down with him:
Today’s qualified apology for the remarks follows an initial outright denial last week that he ever said the recorded comments. On Thursday, Kasper issued a statement saying he was “appalled” by his remarks as they were reported, saying, “I have never spoken this way about Africans and I never would.”
On Friday, after Pentin published the audio file of the interview on his website, Kasper again denied his comments and went further, accusing Pentin of bad journalistic practices, including recording him “secretly.”
Pentin said that the instant availability of information on the Internet, and the ability of the public to verify information, has been a game-changer, making it harder for special interest groups within the Vatican, even inside Synod’s own administration, to manipulate its message. He cited the “instant uproar” on Twitter and Facebook following the release of the Synod’s mid-point Relatio on Monday as “really useful” in thwarting the plans to “steer” the Synod in a particular direction.
“They know they can’t get away with this kind of manipulation any more.” Social media, he said, “gives voice, probably for the first time to the silent majority. That silent majority has until now been so easy to ignore.”
It’s my NEW Taki’s column, and I can tell you without even peeking that the comments from the He-Man Woman-Haters’ Club will be plentiful!
Sure, I enjoy the occasional hot fudge sundae or slice of good pizza (or six). But eating—or, more specifically, cooking—is mostly a chore, a duty, a speed bump. I’d rather be writing, reading—anything that holds out the promise of novelty, creativity, and discovery.
Eating, on the other hand, is so … ordinary. It feels more like a job than the activity it’s always so rudely interrupting: my actual work.
Long before I was old enough to earn a living, I was enchanted with the food pills on The Jetsons. Imagine: No dishes to do, no oven to remember (or, in my case, forget) to preheat before my mother got home. Such meaningless tedium. Didn’t my mother—didn’t the world—understand? I had better things to do.
(It doesn’t help that I’m also missing the gastro-porn gene. I hear tell that food-themed movies like Eat Drink Man Woman and Babette’s Feast and even 9 ½ Weeks are all terribly sensuous, or maybe sensual—I could never be bothered keeping those two straight. Whereas these “hot” films all leave me colder than yesterday’s leftovers.)
Essentially, if you had sex outside of wedlock, often with a prostitute (hence the “buttock” part, which was a slang for prostitute), and you were a Presbyterian in Scotland, you would often be given the choice of the Stool of Repentance or paying buttock-mail to stop from having to stand on a stool in front of everyone and get berated by your local minister for your lustful actions.
While the latter, perhaps, doesn’t sound so bad to modern thinking compared to having to pay a hefty tax to keep things quiet, without the option of buttock-mail, or if one couldn’t afford it, people are known to have killed themselves rather than have to face the Stool of Repentance and the “fornicator” label that would follow them in the aftermath.
Hugh [Hewitt] gives the book “five stars for funny plus despair-inducing”. I wouldn’t say there’s that much despair, but there’s certainly plenty of funny. [Un]documented is a grand cavalcade of my writing from the last couple of decades or so, from publications around the world – America, Canada, Britain and beyond – plus some favorite riffs from my guest-hosting stints for Rush Limbaugh and even from my stage appearances. It deals with all the big topics – like Islam – but also all the small stuff – like Kinder Eggs – that help illuminate the big picture.
This week Mark Steyn will also make guest appearances with Ezra Levant and Brian Lilley.
PS: I get a couple of mentions, so obviously you’ll want to read it…