Not that it’s really news, but there’s a new book out documenting that Mao (Anita Dunn’s favorite philosopher) was the biggest mass murderer in history. But unlike Hitler, he murdered his own kind, so that’s all right. And as usual, one has to ask why it’s acceptable, and even fashionable, to wear a Che or Mao tee shirt on campus, but not a Hitler one.
[Update a couple minutes later]
Wow. It’s amazing to read some of the defenses of Mao (and Che), and anti-West sentiment in comments over there.
Remembering, nine years later. It’s hard to imagine this president doing that.
…at channelling FDR? John Pitney has a theory about the president’s latest bizarre off-prompter moment:
One can only guess what the president was thinking. I’m the new Roosevelt, right? So what did he do when he was under attack? He told union guys something about a dog. But instead of tossing off some humorous line about Bo the First Canine, he blurted out a bit of witless self-pity.
It was as senseless as it was unfunny. Not even the world’s looniest dog-hater has ever accused a pooch of ignoring the Constitution and a running up a $13 trillion debt.
I like Treacher’s take, myself:
Who’s a good president? Obama’s a good president, isn’t he? Yes he is!
I certainly wouldn’t compare Obama to a dog. Dogs are capable of learning.
Well, the question is, how old is this dog, and can he learn any new tricks in time for either this election, or the next one?
…of popular support for Apollo — a blog post by Roger Launius from a few days ago.
I would point out, per Gene DiGennaro’s comment, that the popularity of space-related toys tells us nothing about the degree of public support. If only ten percent of the kids like space toys, that’s still a huge market.
A travel guide.
And passing on the memories to a younger generation:
It goes without saying that re-enactors take what they do very seriously. But the mistake is often made in assuming that it is all about dressing up and playing army and searching for that transcendent moment when the present falls away and the past is once again alive. Just as important to these re-enactors is the act of honoring the fallen, of making sure their sacrifices — often the supreme one — are never forgotten.
As I watched through the day, this same spirit seemed to imbue the Scouts with a similar sense of pride and purpose. These were Silicon Valley kids after all, their lives filled with Facebook and World of Warcraft, MTV, and SATs. Many have seen their parents lose jobs in the last couple years; and many will soon choose a lesser, cheaper college because their families can no longer afford the tuition. And more than one Scout couldn’t join us on this trip because of tight family budgets. And yet, as difficult as times are, marching in the heat in a scratchy wool uniform with a rifle on your shoulder put things into context for the boys. It could be much much worse. They could be dumped into a grave in Ball’s Bluff, or standing at the Angle, watching as canister blew to bits boys their age on the other side, and nervously awaiting the bayonets of Pickett’s and Pettigrew’s on-rushing howling divisions.
This reality hit us all, men and boys, most deeply when Captain Mullin’s wife Katie, in her long, traditional dress, delivered to each of us packages “from home”: hand-addressed packets of string-tied butcher paper bearing replicas of stamps of the era. Inside, in an extraordinary effort by the ladies of the 71st, we found, wrapped in wax paper, gifts of lye soap, dried fruit, peanuts, shortbread, handkerchiefs embroidered with our initials (and a medicinal bottle of whiskey for me, the colonel) and, most touching of all, hand-copied versions of real letters from home of the era. No instant messages, no emails, not even a cellphone call from home — in 1862 this might be all that a young soldier might hear from home in months.
I don’t think that either side of that war was fighting for universal health care, mortgage bailouts, or bloated public-employee pension plans.
The summer of corruption.
It’s not sufficient, but I think it’s necessary. Of course, the summer of our discontent, with real unemployment rates in the twenties, while the president golfs, and Michelle Antoinette goes on her outing to Spain, will help it along.
[Late evening update]
Related thoughts from Victor Davis Hanson.
That’s how long it’s been since the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, with a second one on Nagasaki three days later, ending the war and probably saving millions of lives. Gerard Vanderleun thinks that it’s been too long (three generations now), and perhaps the world needs another reminder. Nuke something for peace.
Can someone explain to me the point of this long essay (assuming that it actually has one)? Because I seem to be missing it.
One small step for (a) man, one giant leap (too far) for mankind.