Mark Steyn writes:
Usually the Muslims-fear-backlash crowd at least waits till the terrorist atrocity is over. In this case the desiccated multiculti saps launched the #I’llRideWithYou campaign even as the siege was still ongoing – while Katrina Dawson and Tori Johnson were still alive. Muslims are not the victims here. Ms Dawson and Mr Johnson are the victims. And yet the urge to usher Muslims into the victim chair and massage their tender sensibilities is now so reflexive the narcissists on Twitter don’t even have the good taste to wait till the siege is over and the corpse count is known. Far from a restoration of faith in humanity, it’s a glimpse of how advanced the sickness is.
Warning: The comments will be 5000% “JOOOO!”-y this week. I don’t even have to check first. Sorry…
The blue ribbon in the “Self-Hating White Man” category has to be placed on the coffin of David Ruenzel.
I’ll admit it: I emailed the story of Ruenzel’s murder to a bunch of my friends with the subject line “ha ha ha ha.” That’s because he made a living writing about “white privilege” for the inexplicably respectable Southern Poverty Law Center—and he was killed by two black dudes.
While hiking, no less. (…)
His murder provides some of us with a “Little Nell” moment, but don’t laugh for long…
James Fulford, picking apart another dubious story by “reporter” Sabrina Rubin Erdely:
Of course, all this is not Blumer’s fault if she was drugged, as she apparently believes. But there’s no evidence that she was drugged. She had toxicology tests, they came up negative.
Roger Simon writes:
Many of us who have spent even part of our lives working in the film industry, particularly those who have committed the unpardonable sin of not adhering religiously to the orthodox liberal line, cannot but grin at the release of the hacked emails from the bosses of Sony Pictures. We were right all along about these self-described liberals and progressives and now we have proof — they are pond scum. They are about as liberal and progressive as Attila — not that those words mean anything anyway.
They’re also racist, but forget about that. It’s hardly surprising. What is surprising is that they are clueless. They don’t know what the average ten-year-old nerd knows — never write anything online, especially in email or text message form, that you expect is any way to be confidential. Digital writing is indelible. If you want to say something private, you’re better off with India ink than email. And if you really want to be secure, do what al Qaeda does — keep it face to face.
All I Want For Christmas Is You” turns 20 years old this Yuletide. So this week Mark celebrates the occasion with a special audio edition of Song of the Week that tells the story of this Christmas hit and includes his own performance of the song with Miss Jessica Martin.
Although you may find me on Facebook.
Until then, enjoy your black and white “Indian head” test pattern of the week:
“I always saw it as a record for people on oil rigs or Arctic stations.”
Even the exclamation mark is annoying.
Could you live without the last eight songs (save the school-choir retooling of “Career Opportunites”)? Yes, but once you’ve lived with Sandinista! for any length of time, particularly Columbia Legacy’s newly remastered version (with full libretto restored), you realize that would be as futile as cutting an hour out of Francis Ford Coppola’s Vietnam War masterpiece; it’s glorious in part because it’s a sprawling mess, not in spite of it.
Hernandez leans heavily on Westway to the World interviews for the band’s take on the album. That movie is hard to watch because Topper was still using and looks it.
In case that was your last sight of him, he’s doing much better now, as can be seen below: