A well-dressed gentleman in New York today looks like a shadowy figure in a sepia-colored old photograph. I’ve been here for two weeks and have yet to see anyone wearing a suit and tie, except when I passed a window and saw a reflection of yours truly. Between Patagonia fleece vests donned by ...
Back in the good old days when the Brits ruled the roost in the American colonies, the sneaky Brits used a system of their own to lord it over those who looked like them, spoke like them, and worshipped the same God as them, but called themselves American rather than British. It was very simple, ...
He has the appearance of a startled vulture, a sort of prefab mannerism, but he’s all greed and preening self-importance. Selfishness is his holy grail, and he’s a lying, self-serving opportunist who knows whose ring to kiss at all times. This malodorous cesspit used his son-in-law position to ...
I’ve never had much use for diplomats, nor did my father, who called them gigolos and freeloaders living high on the hog off taxpayers like him. “Except for George Kennan,” I used to tell him, and Dad would reluctantly agree. For any of you young whippersnappers unfamiliar with George Kennan, ...
Of all the lovely things and habits that Big Tech has deprived humans of by turning us into electronic robots, the one I miss the most is the love letter. Those sleepy types who go by the name of millennials have declared letter writing over, with the great majority of them ages 18 to 35 proudly ...
I recently watched a Swedish movie, 1939, as good a film as I’ve seen in years, with a beautiful young blonde as the heroine, and with none of those boring Bergman silences that trademarked his movies. Alas, nowadays the moronic youth that watches movies prefers the visible to exceed reality, ...
“She” strangles a cat, then dissects it and shreds what is left. “She” then hits a man with a bottle, strangles him, and finally drowns him. “She” calls herself Scarlet Blake, and the British papers and media feel obliged to refer to this muscular and terrifying individual as a woman. ...
The late ’60s and early ’70s were great years for yours truly. Sporting successes in tennis and karate, a great president in the White House, and some good reporting from Hue for National Review’s William Buckley had given me a career boost. That’s when Bill, a very good friend, decided ...
Things ain’t looking that good. Nothing seems to be working in the so-called free world: rubbish in the streets, vandalism and violent crime, illegal immigration at record levels, no-go areas in towns and cities; is this why we pay taxes and call ourselves free? Mass shootings have become a way ...
I’m back scribbling about writing again because penmanship is like cocaine—once you start it’s difficult to stop. Disaffection is my customary response to contemporary writers and literature—long-winded me-me-me balderdash—and I won’t go near hysterical American female screeches who ...
