One Tough SOB

It's no knock on the London Times that I want to wait until we have real proof to believe this story about Yushchenko's poisoning. (Yes, I suspect he was poisoned, but I'm skeptical of there being any hard proof to confirm it. If there is, then the KGB sure has lost a step.)

None of that's important. Check out this graph about what a tough-guy Yuschenko is:

Yushchenko fell ill on September 6 and was rushed to Rudolfinerhaus four days later with severe abdominal pain and lesions on his face and trunk. His liver, pancreas and intestines were swollen and his digestive tract covered in ulcers, but doctors could not explain the symptoms. Against their advice he went back on the campaign trail after a week, but returned to the clinic two weeks later with back pain.

Again he returned to campaigning, with his face half paralysed and a catheter inserted in his back so that doctors--still baffled--could inject painkillers into his spinal column.

TR would approve.

Europe and Islam

This ABC News story on the European reaction is so slanted that it isn't really worth reading. (For instance, it mentions the attacks on Muslim schools in the Netherlands following Theo van Gogh's murder--which amounted to penny-ante vandalism, but makes no mention of the more serious Muslim attacks on Christian churches and schools.)

However, in trying to bend over backwards to cosset Islam, author Leela Jacinto unearths one very revealing quote about the van Gogh murder from Massoud Shadjareh, chairman of the Islamic Human Rights Commission:

"We do need infrastructure to limit extremism, and this has to come from all sides. If the Dutch government had prosecuted van Gogh for his racism, he may have been alive. I'm not saying that anything, absolutely anything legitimizes a killing, but we also need to limit hate speech--on all sides."

You see, if Theo van Gogh had just kept his trap shut, maybe he would still be alive, God be praised.

One of the great disappointments about President Bush has been his unwillingness to speak seriously about the civilizational--as opposed to physical--threat presented by radical Islamists.

Ironically, it may be Europe, which has been so loathe to confront the physical dangers of Islamofascism, which leads the way on the war's cultural front.

Nerd Fights City Hall

A New Jersey man is waging a fight with municipal authorities for the right to build a 20-foot model of a Jawa Sandcrawler (one of the three Star Wars toys I did not own as a child).

A guy who wants to build the Sandcrawler? What a dork, what a loser. I mean, if he was trying to do the AT-AT . . .

So Smart He's Wrong!

Mickey Kaus predictably attacks Peter Beinart's bold call to arms to save liberalism. Why is Kaus's sniping predictable? Because Beinart is obviously right and Mickey's steroid-enhanced, super-capacity brain power would be wasted by simply concurring.

By way of argument, Kaus says, "Attacking Communism didn't threaten to radicalize billions of otherwise peaceable socialists the way frontally attacking Islamic fundamentalists threatens to radicalize billions of Muslims." First of all, even the most generous estimates only put the total world number of Muslims at about 1.2 billion, so Mickey should ramp down the hyperbole. (He's so excitable!) Second, who says that the Muslim population isn't already radicalized? If September 11, 2001 is what a non-agitated Muslim world looks like, then it seems as though we should be willing to risk further instigation in search of a solution.

Kaus also says, "If Communism had been a non-state ideology that embraced suicidal terrorism and was potentially adopted by billions of individuals and small groups with increasing access to weapons of mass death--individuals who could be whipped into anger by Internet-era media technology in the wake of anything that smacked of an 'assault on Communism'--the Cold War might have looked very different back in 1947." Billions? There he goes again. But in fact Communism did embrace much terrorism and was adopted by individuals and small groups from Cuba to Nicaragua to Vietnam, often with quite bad results.

But in other news, a close reading of the blogosphere this morning suggests that Kaus's latest poke at Andrew Sullivan has been well and truly joined. Hissss!

From the people who brought you CrushKerry.com, comes . . . Passion for Fairness. The site seems dedicated to influencing Academy members to vote for The Passion of the Christ for Best Picture over Fahrenheit 9/11.

In fairness, I haven't seen The Passion--and I don't plan to. If some audiences have felt enriched by it, then good for them. But it looks to me like a graphic, prolonged snuff film. And that's not really my thing.

Pretty Hate Machine

Sigh. Andrew Sullivan and others are taking shots at my review of Closer. The main complaint seems to be something which approximates to: "Older men have been lusting after pre- or mid-pubescent teenage girls for a long time; this is no big deal, don't be such a bluenose; and--not that there's anything wrong with it--it isn't Natalie Portman's fault, get off her case."

What to say? First off, just because something has a cultural legacy doesn't make it right. There were generations of precedent for slavery, the subservience of women, and even a general looking-of-the-other-way at rape. As a society, we've progressed to a point where these long-standing norms are now frowned upon. If you want to argue that there's nothing wrong with grown men having sex with 15-year-old girls, go right ahead. But don't tell me that it must be okay since them-there frontier folk did it way back when.

Even so, my main criticism isn't about pedophilia, per se (silly me, I thought that was settled law). It's about the culture which celebrates the explicitly sexual objectification of young girls. Think of it this way: I'm bothered much more by the "TOTALLY raining teens" Vanity Fair cover and the Olsen twins countdown clocks (and the nudge-nudge, wink-wink stories about these clocks in places like USA Today) than I am by Léon or Beautiful Girls (which is a fine film). The problem is that movies don't exist in a vacuum. If we're going to be four-square in favor of freedom of artistic expression (as we should be), then we also ought to be pretty rigorous about expressing our concern for creepy cultural trends which result as unintended consequences of this expression.

As far as Miss Portman is concerned, I made it pretty clear that the current state of affairs "isn't entirely (or even mostly)" her fault. She may have starred in the movies, but she isn't editing the entertainment press. As I said, she has handled herself in public with dignity and grace and seems like a nice young woman. I wish her nothing but the best.

Out of Control

I'm sure my fellow Galley Slaves really appreciate my hijacking this forum and turning it into a U2-fest, but as they are both occupied at the moment, I'll throw in one additional entry on my previous subject and try to restrain myself from further comment.

GS friend CSG recently took on my naming (in my humble opinion) the top three U2 albums of all time: The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, and All That You Can't Leave Behind. CSG prefers War, Unforgettable Fire, and Boy, all of which I agree are indispensable. Indeed, if you were to ask me one of favorite U2 songs ever, I would say "Bad" (though I do prefer that eight-minute version on Wide Awake in America). I tend to think less of War because I suffer from "Sunday Bloody Sunday" fatigue. I don't think I have the strength to hear that anthem again. Regardless, I respect CSG's picks and assure him I haven't suffered from dementia lately. But you just can't ignore The Joshua Tree.

Yes, the songs had mass appeal and penetrated the mainstream Top 40, but just because everyone else loves them doesn't mean you should stop loving them.

A few final thoughts: Bono recently rediscovered the missing lyrics he had penned while in the U.S. back in the early 1980s. The lyrics were suppose to be the basis of the album after Boy. Instead, he had to start from scratch and came up with the less satisfying October. Can we hope that the band will finally turn these scribbled notes into an album of sorts? I know I'd buy it.

And secondly, for fans of the Boy album, have you noticed in recent years that U2 has been playing some of those old songs in concert again, such as "I Will Follow"? In their recent New York performance by the Brooklyn Bridge last month, a fan who was there tells me they even played "Out of Control." Others have heard them play "11 o'clock tick tock" and "Party Girl." Be on the lookout for more old-school favorites in next year's tour.

From Father To Son

I'm not sure how many readers consider themselves U2 fanatics but you can count me as one. The problem is, when one surrenders absolute loyalty to a band, impartiality tends to get thrown out the door. U2 can cull together scraps of songs, leftover melodies, and live tracks, roll it together, and call it an album, and I would still lap it up. Come to think of it, they once did that--it was called Rattle and Hum and I still love it (mainly because it encapsulates their American phase). But now comes the Irish quartet's newest album, How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb. Herewith a brief review, doing my best to remain evenhanded:

In some ways, the album is a continuation of All That You Can't Leave Behind--the band's descent from outer space (think Zooropa and Pop) to more traditional and melodic ballads. But How to Dismantle... offers a richer sound than its predecessor, copious amounts of keyboard, and the return of the Edge's trademark chiming riff. You'll even hear echoes of the Boy album and older post-punk elements throughout.

Lyrically, the tracks are laced with Bono's love of his father, who died during the last tour (when the lead singer would finish each concert and fly back to Ireland to tend to his deathbed). It can be felt in songs like "One Step Closer to Knowing" and "Sometimes You Can't Make It on Your Own" (which the son sang at his father's funeral). It is also interesting to note the bands flirtation, once again, with Christian rock. The last song on the album, simply titled "Yahweh," is the most religious U2 has gotten since the October album. Yes, there is a peace-and-love song (called "Love and Peace or Else") but you're not getting hit over the head with it.

Despite their tune "Beautiful Day" serving as the anthem for the Kerry campaign, the band, and Bono in particular, did not go endorsing a candidate. Nor did they play with Bruce Springsteen and "rock against Bush." In fact, just a few months ago, Bono was seen at the trendy DC restaurant Galileo dining intimately with future Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. He's even listened to Gospel hymns with John Ashcroft--all of which makes for interesting tours (such as the time Jesse Helms watched from offstage--with his hearing aid off).

In all, How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb is solidly constructed and ranks about midfield, probably alongside The Unforgettable Fire but still below the band's three greatest achievements, The Joshua Tree, Achtung Baby, and All That You Can't Leave Behind. On a scale of 1-10, this earns a 7.

Fight Night

In case you thought his "excitable" dig of a few weeks ago was just a friendly elbow, Mickey Kaus has now decided to take it to the next level with Andrew Sullivan with his recurring feature Andrew Having It Both Ways. Let's get nuts!

How do you figure out who to root for?

Soxblog has an interesting post on Atul Gawande's New Yorker article on standards of care in the cystic fibrosis community. Worth reading.

After Portman

Regarding my quasi-review of Closer last Friday, a number of people have written in. One reader directs us to an early pedophilia chic movie:

In 1978, Louis Malle (the guy who liked to make movies about incest, too) directed Pretty Baby starring a then 13-year-old Brooke Shields--who played the pre -pubescent daughter of a prostitute, and who is 'bought' by an adult man.. (played by Keith Carradine, I believe). Thus was the imprimateur of the artistic elite stamped on the pedophile. Like a break in the dike, the pre pubescent girl became all the rage on the streets and even in strip bars. Nice.

And how I did I manage to ignore Larry Clark's oeuvre? He deals almost exclusively in young-teen sex.

View from the Pool, Christmas Edition

My admiration for the reporters who make up the White House pool is nearly boundless. The following report about the White House Christmas tree lighting ceremony was, sadly, filed anonymously. Still, the writer deserves our admiration:

Three weeks before Christmas
At the White House
Your pool was all gathered
Down in lower press

We boarded the vans
Out on the South Lawn
Where even ol' Barney
Was suppressing a yawn

To reach the Ellipse
It would be easier to walk
But the security precautions
Would make the agents balk

So the motorcade departed
The motorcade arrived
And all of this happened
At four minutes of five

Potus and Flotus took seats
Behind ballistic glass walls
The Marine Band played
And in came Santa Claus

St. Nick was fat and jolly
And in costume looked hot
I knew in an instant
It must be Willard Scott

Scott took the stage
And played a little trick
He plugged his employer
General Electric:

“Ho ho ho
He he he
All those lights
Are from G.E.”

The singers sang blues, rock
And songs about Jesus
Your poolers wondered if the
Temperature would freeze us

Potus gave his speech
Then lit up the tree
Transcripts will follow
The return was event-free

In my Newsletter column today I slag off on the vanity of sportswriters, but I want to (again) point you towards Bill Lyon, one of the best there is. His column on the Army-Navy game is simply perfect.

More Shanksville Pictures

Lane Core was at the first anniversary in Shanksville and has a ton of pictures from the event. He also has a great collection of other Shanksville pictures. His stuff adds a lot to what I was trying to explain with yesterday's post.

Liberal Professors

The Wall Street Journal has a Taste page commentary about the way liberal college professors harass conservative students.

The Journal worries, sensibly, about whether or not this produces a chilling effect on discussion. I'm sure it probably does.

But on the other hand, I wonder if it isn't also minting conservatives out of students who would otherwise be politicaly ambivalent. I hated--and hate is not a strong enough word--all save five of the professors I ran across during my undergraduate years. So did most of my classmates. (It wasn't political disagreement that soured me. I was a science major and politics never once came up in any class I took. They were just, as a class, repulsive human beings.)

Had one of these hated professors spouted liberal agitprop during a lecture my classmates and I would have taken to conservatism simply out of spite.

Maybe my experience was atypical, but I have trouble imagining that college students look up to their professors any more than Cinderella did to her wicked stepmother. Won't these abuses wind up hurting the spread of liberalism in the long run?

Sponsor Shout-Out

I want to give some props to Stephen Hicks's book, Explaining Postmodernism: Skepticism and Socialism from Rousseau to Foucault. It's a happy coincidence that he's advertising on the site, since this is one of the books I've most been looking forward to. If you have a hole in your holiday reading schedule, Explaining Postmodernism looks worth a go.

Great new site: GasPriceWatch.com. Tells you the prices of gas at almost every station in the country.

Beinart Stands Up

It would be difficult to overstate the importance of Peter Beinart's long call to arms in the New Republic. The proximate effect could be that if Democrats heed Beinart they could legitimately contend for the White House in 2008. But the more crucial, long-term goal, is that Beinart is trying to save liberalism.

Whether you're a Republican or a Democrat, a liberal or conservative, you should be whole-heartedly invested in this project. The health of our republic depends on vigorous, serious intellectual debate. If liberalism were to continue its slide into incoherence, we would all pay the price.

So congratulations to Beinart and the New Republic for taking these hard first steps. It won't be easy. Howard Dean and Michael Moore and MoveOn.org will not give up without a fight. But conservatives should do more than chuckle from the sidelines about the divisions on the left: We should root, hard, for Beinart and his compatriots. Their endeavor is critical for us, too.

(In all of this I hate to say a cross word about the New Republic, but Beinart's bracing essay was tainted only slightly by Jonathan Chait's mean-spirited attack on Jeff Rosen. If Beinart is the solution for liberalism, Chait's attitude is part of the problem.)

Pedophilia Chic (again)

My review of Mike Nichols's Closer is up now, although it deals mostly with Natalie Portman and the cultural legacy she's left behind.

Diners of the Caribbean

One kind reader recently asked if I could recommend some places to eat in the British Virgin Islands. I'd be more than happy to share some thoughts.

There isn't much of a restaurant scene on Tortola and certainly not on the more remote Virgin Gorda--at least in the conventional sense. There aren't any TGIFriday's or Ruby Tuesday's to be found. In fact, I didn't even see a McDonald's or a Burger King. Nor did I spot a Morton's or a Spago's. As I mentioned earlier, the BVI is unusually low-key and simple. They are much less frequented than either St. Thomas or St. John. This may change, however, with the recent arrival of cruise ships docking for a day in Roadtown, Tortola's capital. (This would include our very own Weekly Standard cruise liner Holland America.)

But there are a few gems, especially on Tortola, representing the best and most authentic in West Indian cuisine. Most of the good restaurants are family-owned. The decor is plain, but that just means all of the effort is put into the cooking. Out on the West Coast of Tortola, near Apple Bay, is a place called Coco Plums. It is a local favorite with reasonable prices. The menu here includes pork chops, garlic mashed potatoes, skillet-sautéed mushrooms, and my personal favorite, Voodoo Ribs--a whole rack of tender, falling-off-the-bone beef ribs slathered in a sweet and tangy barbecue sauce. Further up along Carrot Bay is Palm's Delight, a family-style restaurant. I consider this to be West Indian at its best (before it eventually evolved into soul food and cajun on the mainland). There's curry shrimp, fried fish in Creole sauce, honey-stung fried chicken, and the mouth-watering breaded chicken in gingerwine sauce. The fanciest restaurant we visited was the Sugar Mill in Apple Bay, located on the grounds of a 17th-century rum distillery. Here you will find a perfect blend of native fare and New American--call it Caribbean fusion. The curried chicken is sweeter than it is spicy, the conch chowder was the richest and heartiest I've ever had, and the lobster and shrimp nicoise was a veritable seafood cornucopia. At the Biras Creek restaurant on Virgin Gorda, you will find rather high-end fare (the prix-fixe was about $65 per person) along with West Indian, including fried sweetbreads (my moment of true decadence), filet mignon, and seabass. Lobster is served every day.

If you happen to come off a cruise ship at Roadtown and are loathe to eat at a chain like Pusser's Landing, I highly recommend a diner called the Midtown Restaurant, right on Main Street. The special at the time was a sautéed conch for $12. It was diced and served in a light gravy alongside a bed of rice and plantains. For those not familiar with conch, think of a giant clam--meaty, chewy, and juicy all around. By the end of the meal, I had, um, conched out.

For more on the British Virgin Islands, visit their website.