After a lifetime of unsuccessful attempts, I have finally attained coolth,

at least in the eyes of one reader. “Mr. Derbyshire: I’m sure you’ve

already been told this, but as a former on-screen punching bag for the late Bruce Lee ,

you are officially the Coolest Writer in National Review History, and quite

possibly the coolest conservative commentator ever. From now on, you can

successfully win any debate by simply pointing out, ‘Oh yeah? Well I went

toe-to-toe with BRUCE LEE.’ In the hierarchy of pop-culture obsession with

martial arts, this places you higher than almost everybody associated with

the Matrix films, higher than the creators of the videogames Tekken, Mortal

Kombat, or Street Fighter 2, higher than either Steven Seagal or Jean-Claude

Van Damme. Masters of Gymkata quake in your presence. Michael Dudikoff

flees in terror. You’re still a few steps below Jim Kelly, Sonny Chiba, Jet

Li, Jackie Chan, and Chuck Norris, but you’re approximately on the same

level as Sho Kosugi, Jeff Speakman, and Don ‘The Dragon’ Wilson. Just to

let you know.”

Does it subtract one iota from my coolth that I have no clue who most of

those people are? No! I am impregnable! I am invincible!! I am COOL!!!