Sunday, June 12, 2005

An insipid book review 
I response to the first paragraph of this Guardian book review:

Anti-american cynicism once seemed quaint, but now we know it to be another instrument of banality. Every aspect of radical liberalism has long since begun to take on the patina of irrelevance - like a spoiled child stamping her feet in the middle of a party, screaming for attention and holding her breath until she turns blue in the face, only to be snickeringly ignored by the adult supervision. The tofu and the Chai: This is how the world leftists feed themselves-feeling superior all the while, and indulgent in the delusion that the world shares their bizaare assumptions about the nature of U.S. power - so much so that their arguments become mere discounted postulates - rhetorical monuments to the foolishness of their tribe - and dealt with not with admiring respect, but with a derisive yawn.

The rallies, the press releases, the vapid movie stars: This is how they allow themselves to justify Saddam's monstrous crimes, and lend abominable credence in their minds to the equally monstrous notion that Saddam should have been left alone to commit them.

But how can they still think they're right about anything?

Their children are Red-book toting imbiciles, their most visible spokesmen demonstrably unstable.

They have excused the atrocities of dictators from Stalin to Ho Chi Minh to the Sandanistas to Castro to Saddam Hussein. They equate the universal suffrage of millions to the slaughter of six million Jews.

Where is the guilt?

Where is the apology?

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