Many will recognize the above quote as uttered by the intriguingly eccentric Admiral James Stockdale, Ross Perot's 1992 running mate. On stage next to Dan Quayle and Al Gore at the vice-presidential candidate debate, he rightly understood that the vast majority of the American people had no idea who the heck this old guy was. He figured rightly that he might as well address that fact. It would turn out that this opening line would end up being his most memorable. Having survived a P.O.W. camp in Vietnam, the man deserved better. But such are the interesting curves one is thrown — especially if one ends up being a pal of Ross Perot's. But that's another story.

"Who am I and why am I here?"

The line has stayed with me and is as good a place as any to begin what we hope will be a long and meaningful "relationship" with visitors to National Review Online. It has always been my belief that Stockdale unwittingly stumbled on to the existential essence of early '90s America. The nation had lost its ideological enemy of the previous forty years. The nation was just emerging from a recession, yet economic uncertainty seemed to hold sway. Perhaps that uncertainty, more than anything else, helped doom George Bush's re-election chances.

America didn't know who James Stockdale was, but in a very real sense, in 1992, America had to question who she herself was. After the war is over, exactly what are the victors supposed to do? George Bush closed out the Cold War and didn't have an answer for what came next. America was wondering and had to question its identity.

Stockdale's query remained with me because what America is and strives to be will always be interesting questions. Like many, I am an immigrant, having come to the United States as a youngster — from the West Indies, by way of Great Britain. As corny as it sounds, I still believe in the American dream. Having always had an interest in politics, I gravitated toward Washington, splitting a decade between party politics and whatever it is Capitol Hill staffers do. Having had a long love affair with New York City, I have returned to what many consider to the greatest city in the world. Having always been in love with the written word, I now find myself fortunate to actually have a career in writing (in my day job at the newspaper I lovingly mocked as a youth). Who knows what's next, but there's enough evidence in this particular case to suggest that the possibilities that America holds are indeed many, and attainable.

Which brings us to this column's title. First of all, "The G-File" was already taken. Because of my interest in rap music, National Review Grand High Poobah Rich Lowry thought "The O.G. File" might work. I told him that "Original Gangsta" might give people the wrong idea about the values upon which this column is to be built. And so, there will be no links to Puff Daddy's home page. At least, not at first.

This column is called "Ragged Thots" for a couple reasons. It's partly a pun. Did I forget to mention that I like puns? If you don't, you might as well quit right here. They're part of the package that you get with this writer. Don't worry, just consider a pun as seasoning in a good meal. Utmost care will be taken to avoid over-spicing the food. Anyway, the more insightful among you will be able to figure out the play on words in the column title.

And no, it's not "ragged" because of concern over a lack of clarity. Instead, my thoughts, concerns, issues, etc. are ragged in the sense that I recognize them as works-in-progress. I have no corner on absolute truth. The best anyone can do when writing is to share opinions honestly derived from observations, experiences, and a particular understanding of America's history and foundations.

America began and remains as a unique experiment in democracy. In that sense, America herself is a work-in-progress. But America is also unique in the breadth of its culture. And so, the tensions arising from that uniqueness will be a regular theme in this space. Thus, this will be a "ragged" exercise in a sense. It is my hope that at the end of the day, an idea or two might pop up that will reflect the uniqueness of its subject. I expect visitors will be more than happy to share their own thoughts, whether they agree with me or whether they want to find out about the possibility of revoking my citizenship.

That means politics will be a large part of the mix. It is an election year, after all. But expect issues of social culture — gender, race, immigration, generational outlook — and popular culture — music, movies, television, perhaps even theatre — to pop up here. A few moments into the 21st century (as popularly understood) and America, though far more economically confident than eight years ago, still collectively asks, "Who am I and why am I here?" I think the nation's infatuation with John McCain (another Vietnam vet a la Stockdale) and his story (if not necessarily the specifics of his candidacy) has something to do with that as well. But that's a subject we'll return to at another time.

Bill and Hillary Clinton — can't escape 'em — will wander in. If one is writing about politics and culture, it's impossible to avoid the Best Actor and Actress of the last eight years. As much as conservatives (and many liberals for that matter) may hate it, the fact is that the Clintons will be around, in one form or another, for some time to come. They are, sadly or otherwise, part of America 2000. Living in New York also makes me a witness (legal term intentionally used) to the erstwhile First Lady's campaign for the Senate. There's just way too much material in the Hillary-Rudy ballet/boxing match alone.

Oh, yes, a fair portion of my adult life has been spent as a disk jockey, so whereas the esteemed Mr. Jonah Goldberg peppers his work with references to movies, don't be surprised if you see song lyrics both familiar and obscure worm their way in here. Why? It's because I am the son and heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar. (Jonah wouldn't sue me if I said, "What's that from?" Would he?)

Oh, a few people might be experiencing déjà vu. Wasn't there a previous attempt (or two) at "Ragged Thots"? Your memory is correct. There was an e-mail column with such a name. Alas, it was found to be too difficult to write honestly and forthrightly when one is involved in the day-to-day hurly-burly of partisan politics. A writer self-censored is a writer severely handicapped. And so, it's a true honor to be able to dust off an old title and put it to work under the esteemed auspices of National Review Online.

That is who I am and why I am here. How long I stay depends in part to all who come and visit three-times-a-week-or-so. Comments will be received (warmly or otherwise) at RAGGEDmail@aol.com. So until next time, keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars. What's that from? (Nah, no way, Jonah sues me…)