Almost exactly two years ago to the day I wrote in this “news”letter:
Oh, and I have a request. So far the G-File seems to be catching on just fine. Lots of good feedback, increasing subscriptions, etc. No one has sent me a gift bag full of scotch and cash yet, but I can only assume that’s coming. But a couple people – literally a couple – have written me to complain bitterly that they don’t like the G-File and that they want me to remove them from the list.
Here’s my heartfelt response: I truly don’t give a rat’s ass. I ain’t getting paid anything extra to write this thing. The reason I agreed to revive the G-File is that I missed writing stuff the way I want to without worrying about appealing to a wide audience or the sweaty-toothed madman pounding on my brain. This thing is for old school – and newly recruited – flying monkeys only. Think of me like Dr. Johnny Fever inWKRP in Cincinnati – I finally have a chance to say “booger” on the air again.
Besides, this is a newsletter (admittedly with less actual news than there’s “real fruit juice” in Hawaiian Punch). Don’t like it? Don’t read it. Regret signing up for it? That sucks for you. Don’t like my attitude? Send an e-mail to TheSuits@nationalreview.com.
Okay, now that they’ve left the room: Booger, booger, booger.
I bring all of this up because last night Dr. Charles Krauthammer said “booger” on national television, and not just once. He was very pleased and excited to have done it, though it was obviously unplanned. I was there on the Special Report set agonizing if I should take it up a notch with a WKRP reference. I had to explain to him during the commercial break who Dr. Fever was. That is not a stop on the highway of my career I ever thought I’d be making. I opted not to. And, as it turned out, during the commercial break, I had to explain to him who Dr. Fever was. That is not a stop on the highway of my career I ever thought I’d be making.
Now the thing is, if Charles Krauthammer – Charles frick’n Krauthammer – can say “booger” on the air what am I free to do in this semi-secretive missive sent to pop-culture-besotted rightwingers who need to appear like they are working at their desks during lunchtime? What brave new vistas have been opened up for me?
The mind reels.
Already, I’m getting a lot of blowback for today’s column. Even though I hinted up front that the column would be a tad too cynical. It begins: “Warning: What you are about to read is a deeply cynical view of the 2012 election. If you’re looking for puppies and rainbows, check back with me another time.”
Oddly, some readers were still taken by surprise by it.
I don’t want to waste your time defending my column’s morosely self-indulgent devil’s advocate cynicism, instead I want to spend my time nurturing my morose self-indulgent cynicism like it was a tiny baby bird living behind my radiator in my prison cell.
These are glorious times in America. Let us review.
The future is illuminated with the happy glow of $50 light bulbs. There’s a fresh breeze of hope blowing off the wind farms, like the stench of golden eagle viscera drying in the hot sun. We’re replacing oil with algae – whoops, sorry “biomass,” itself a useful synonym for a specific bovine flavored sub-variety the president is flinging around like a human sprinkler system of ungulate feces.
Religious freedom is finally being relegated to the petty luxury the Founders always dreamed it would become. I believe it was Ben Franklin who said, “He who sacrifices freedom for security deserves neither. But she who sells out religious liberty for $9 worth of birth-control pills is getting a bargain.” Hey man, that’s about as good as president Obama’s bit about Rutherford B. Hayes yesterday. As I joked on Twitter, “My friends, as Thomas Jefferson said so eloquently, ‘you can’t believe everything you read on the internet.’”
You know that feeling of “you’re not wanted here” you get from the bartender and waitresses when you keep ordering more buffalo wings and beer even after they’ve turned the stools and chairs upside down on the tables? No, well I do. And it seems like we’re getting the Pashtun equivalent of that vibe from the Afghans. Except there are major cultural differences at work here. Instead of merely saying “you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here” they’re murdering American troops left, right, and center. Yes, we had one lone gunman commit some unspeakably evil crimes, but it sounds like he had some major mental-health problems. Meanwhile, our allies are walking up and murdering our troops, and to date I haven’t heard anyone demand an apology from Hamid Karzai.
On to happier topics. The Congressional Budget Office reported this week that the joy of paying for Obamacare will be so much greater than we were told. According to the CBO, Obamacare, like Doublemint Gum, will now be providing double the pleasure for double the fun. Instead of the $940 billion per decade the White House deceitfully promised, we’ll get to pay $1.76 trillion. It reminds me of a friend’s painting company when he was in college.
Their motto was “We may be slow, but we’re expensive.”
Oh and who among us on the right side of the political spectrum can help but rejoice at the embarrassment of riches on offer in the Republican primaries. We conservatives are like Augustus Gloop when he enters Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, nearly paralyzed by the exciting and tantalizing options laid out before us. It’s like every new primary offers yet one more exciting candy surprise. The only worry: We might fall into the chocolate river (“That. Is. Not. Chocolate.” – The Couch.)
About book tours
Lots of folks have asked if my book tour will take me to wherever they are. The short answer in most cases is “I don’t know. But I hope so.” It looks for sure that I will be giving some kind of public talk(s) on The Tyranny of Clichés in D.C., NYC, Boston, Phoenix/Scottsdale, and Chicago. The rest are maybes (LA, Seattle, Denver) or flat-out I-don’t-knows.
Here’s the thing: I appreciate all the folks saying “Come to Yadahay Flats! We’d love to hear you speak. I’ll buy you a beer!” The problem is that publishers basically don’t do – and by do, I mean pay for – book tours any more, at least not if there aren’t sizable sales involved. A trip that destroys two days of my time that ends up selling a few dozen books just doesn’t make much sense, particularly in the early days after pubdate when media matters so much (I am not referring to the David Brock cult, btw). So I’m trying to arrange – with the help of AEI, my publisher, and/or my speakers bureau – events through various think tanks, clubs, etc. around the country that can make the economics of all this work. In a couple cases we’re bundling several small events together. Anyway, to make a long story short, if you belong to a group that wants to bring me to town to help sell the book, I’m flattered and grateful (truly grateful. I don’t think I’ve kept it a secret I’d like this book to succeed), please let me know. I hope we can work it out. But please don’t be offended if we can’t.
Oh, and I’ll be at St. John’s University in Minnesota this Monday night (March 19). It’s at 7:00 p.m. Open to the public. So come on down, or up, or over.
Various and Sundry
If you want a very basic explanation for why big government schemes fail so often, spend a couple minutes watching “Toddler Economics.”
For some reason that reference to a baby bird earlier now has this disturbing scene from Deadwood stuck in my head.
If you haven’t seen Twitchy, and you like making fun of Obama’s historical illiteracy here’s a great twofer.
A list of Charles Dickens’s fake books.
Why Darth Vader is leaving the Empire.
Oh, and: Booger!