An American conservative attitude toward the nature of crime, as committed by individuals against individuals, and as naming specific acts – not “rape is rape” and “no is no,” but “only real rape is rape” and “only a real no is no” – may prevent conservatives from saying what they really mean: that in fact they agree about the existence of a rape culture, but disagree as to who the real perpetrators have been and are.
Two “audio letters” home, sent December 19, 1944, one in which Duncan has his friend Joe (“a good singer”) sing “White Christmas,” the other featuring Duncan singing “Oh Holy Night.” The discs themselves are very lightweight, and have not survived…
Responding to Dick Cheney’s infamous performance on Meet the Press, Andrew Sullivan delivers an admission at odds with his thesis of the irredeemable evil of the Bush Administration’s enhanced interrogations program. Sullivan addresses a set of exchanges between Cheney and…
The danger for torture opponents in accepting collateral damage to the bases of public discussion, not least in the involvement of the proponents of public reason in habitual defamation of designated enemy political combatants, is the topic for a different discussion, or, more likely, non-discussion.
(Put abstractly: DJ Earworm’s art of re-assembly constructs or realizes a depth – or, perhaps more precisely, synthesizes and integrates an ideational as well as actual polyvocality – that few to none of the popular music videos he samples can…
First a comment from “Pinky” at Ordinary Times, which I’ll quote in full: I don’t know if I’m just in a melancholy mood, but I guess I’ve been thinking lately about the lack of quality online. What strikes me is…
“The Triumph of Death,” Pieter Bruegel, The Elder
To treat the past as nothing because it is or seems inaccessible to us is to imply the nothingness of every present destined to fall into it next – to make the substance of life the triumph of death… and therefore it is not thus.
Though the big, slick, expensive sites and services offer many of the things, and better, that ten years ago we went to (each other’s) blogs to find, they are inadequate for anyone seeking more than “the literature of a quarter of an hour,” but not involved in, supported by, or satisfied with traditional commercial and academic publishing. A blog might seem to belong to that species of 15-minute literature, but, once the all-consuming desire for passing interest has been stolen away or stolen back, the blog-as-log begins to disappear, revealing a virtual location: the site, marked by the non- or anti-ephemeral durability of logos rather than log.
