Like so many of the faithful congregants of the Church of the Holy Idiot Box, Vester Flanagan bumrushed the pulpit from the pews. The narcissism evident in his professional pursuits of prostitute and pixelated personality displayed itself in his decision to methodically video the murder of two young people succeeding in the field in which he had repeatedly failed. Frustration about the self ultimately causes the troubled to lash out at others. Read my article @ the American Spectator on how the world, and the would-be world-savers, would be better off if violent reformers reformed themselves instead.
Jared Fogle pleaded guilty to child pornography and underage sex charges last week. The sandwich salesman faces five-to-twelve years in jail, imminent divorce, and, worst of all, a plummeting Q-Score. Read my article @ the American Spectator that asks: What does it profit a man to loseth the weight but gaineth the cell-block moniker “chomo”?
Senator Bernie Sanders tops former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton 44-37 in a poll of likely Democratic voters in the New Hampshire primary. A proud socialist in the driver’s seat in a state where they inscribe “live free or die” on the license plates speaks to what a long, strange trip it’s been. Read my column @ the American Spectator on how the senator's strange trip includes orgone-energy accumulators, bizarre discussions about eating placenta, and advocating the idea that prudishness causes cancer.
“No doubt he came to represent the realization of life’s large promises,” Fredrick Exley writes of Frank Gifford in A Fan’s Notes. Frederick Exley’s book reads about the meaning of alcoholism, and the weight of a late but accomplished father hanging about a son’s neck, and the catharsis a vicarious existence lived in the bleachers provides. But, superficially at least, the greatest football book ever written was about an obsession with Frank Gifford, who died this weekend. Read my piece @ Breitbart on the player and his greatest fan.
Seeing lions on television instead of out of the corner of your eye tends to inflate your love for the big cats. But Cecil, a socially-conscious king of the jungle, presumably eschewed the parched-grassland delicacies of antelope, zebra, and giraffe in favor of vegan fare. This would explain why his apostles trashed Walter Palmer’s vacation home and St. Sharon Osbourne, married to a known predator of smaller flying creatures, dubbed the hunter “Satan” and called for his head mounted to a wall. Such a beautiful creature would never stoop to the level of a beastly dentist. Read my article @ Breitbart on why lions are people too.
Conservatives pick Donald Trump for president because the media picks on him. After emerging beat up from the slings and arrows of Fox News moderators, a bloodied and bruised Donald Trump may actually appear more attractive to GOP primary voters. Read my column @ the American Spectator on conservatives hating the media more than they love their principles.
Ideologues seek to ban Gone with the Wind from movie houses and dig up Nathan Bedford Forrest's grave. The revival of the War Between the States after a 150-year interbellum thankfully witnesses human simulacrums and corpses as casualties rather than living, breathing people. After killing 300,000 Southerners, destroying Richmond, Charleston, and Atlanta, and imposing martial law on much of the rebellious region for more than a decade, the victors allowed the vanquished to keep their heroes. Read my column @ the American Spectator on how a century-and-a-half later that appears too generous a concession to some.
MTV, perhaps in penance to its early programming choices, later this month premieres White People, a documentary that, as the trailer informs, exposes “what white people have done in America.” Illegal alien Jose Antonio Vargas hosts the program. Some people miss their own irony. Read my column @ the American Spectator on the unhealthiness of obsessing over racial "pride" or "shame."
My childhood impression held that the Confederate Flag stood for Lynyrd Skynyrd just as Southerners stood in unison for “Freebird” as their “Star-Spangled Banner.” They raised cigarette lighters in reverence to their anthem; Northerners placed hands on heart. They say Palmetto bug. We say cockroach.The propensity of Massachusettsans to glean anthropological understanding of the people on the map they look down upon by watching Deliverance and Mississippi Burning, rather than traveling below the Mason-Dixon Line, surely leads to some misunderstandings. But the reward of firsthand knowledge just isn’t worth the risk of forced sodomy on a canoeing trip or Klansmen stuffing one’s corpse in an earthen dam. Read my column @ the American Spectator on why not everybody who loves the Confederate Flag hates the NBA, Earth, Wind & Fire, and Tyler Perry movies.