The Open Question: Gimme a Break

While I admire Mr. Buckley’s enthusiasm, unfortunately that is about all that can be said for his clever effort. Mr. Buckley appears to be neither a rocker nor a conservative—if one accepts the notion that conservatism means balance, moderation, and, most of all, common sense. Rather, he has apparently never gotten over being a “rock critic.”

For the most part, rock critics are a dreary and dull-witted bunch of guys with rumpled clothes, dirty tennis shoes, and speech impediments—a simpering, humorless pack of gimps and failures who’ve found a way to hang out with the guys whose posters used to adorn their bedrooms when they lived at home. In common parlance, they’re groupies. Mr. Buckley displays all the traits of groupie-ism: a slavish idolatry of assorted heroes; a sycophantic I’m-with-the-band posture; and a frantic defensiveness when the little gods he worships are profaned.

SG

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Stuart Goldman

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While I admire Mr. Buckley’s enthusiasm, unfortunately that is about all that can be said for his clever effort. Mr. Buckley appears to be neither a rocker nor a conservative—if one accepts the notion that conservatism means balance, moderation, and, most of all, common sense. Rather, he has apparently never gotten over being a “rock critic.”

For the most part, rock critics are a dreary and dull-witted bunch of guys with rumpled clothes, dirty tennis shoes, and speech impediments—a simpering, humorless pack of gimps and failures who’ve found a way to hang out with the guys whose posters used to adorn their bedrooms when they lived at home. In common parlance, they’re groupies. Mr. Buckley displays all the traits of groupie-ism: a slavish idolatry of assorted heroes; a sycophantic I’m-with-the-band posture; and a frantic defensiveness when the little gods he worships are profaned.