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There's P. J. O'Rourke content at the Weekly
Standard. P. J. meekly says mea culpa to various allegations
of racism, antisemitism, homophobia, etc. But he's having a tough
time finding outlets for his hatred:
I live in rural New Hampshire and we are, frankly, short on people who are black, gay, Jewish, and Hispanic. In fact, we're short on people. My town has a population of 301. When it comes to bias we're pretty much reduced to an occasional slur against French-Canadians. But my grandfather was French-Canadian, so I feel that it is somewhat inappropriate for me to express scorn for Frenchies. That is, liberals have a monopoly on self-loathing as a result of neurosis entitlements and affirmative anxiety programs for which I, as a Republican, do not qualify. Thus it is that I have to drive all the way to Dorchester and then out to Provincetown and down to New York City and back to be narrow minded enough to satisfy Jimmy Carter, Nancy Pelosi, Rahm Emmanuel, and their friend Hugo Chávez.
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How many hits do you think the Google would cough up for
Fairpoint bit off more than they could chew?
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A neat
visualization of the distribution of my favorite Scottish
restaurant, McDonald's, across the US. As a bonus, the visualizer
also determined the spot
in the 48 contiguous states furthest
away from a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, or, as we call it, "civilization."
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Debunking Michael Moore is like shooting a very large fish in a very
small barrel. But Billy Hallowell's article at Big
Hollywood is pretty good, and, even better, it's illustrated with
something large, rusty, dangerous, and obsolete—much like Moore
himself. And anyone who's driven between Portsmouth and
Dover, New Hampshire in the past seventy-four years will recognize it right
away.
Sep
29
2009
URLs du Jour
2009-09-29