Mar
7
2026

So's-Your-Old-Manism

Number 4 in Alinsky's "Rules for Radicals" is "Make the enemy live up to its own book of rules". Or (alternatively) show that someone is using a different book of rules for his side:

So, good for Maher.

Also of note:

  • "Dumb" is actually the nicest thing you can say about it. So Charles C.W. Cooke is being more polite than I would: Anti-Billionaire Sentiment Is Dumb. (archive.today link)

    The current habit of attacking “billionaires” as some problem to be solved — and, more specifically, as the source of all of America’s contemporary problems — is illiterate, intemperate, ungrateful, frivolous, and, above all, dangerous.

    (That's more like it, Charlie. All better adjectives than mere "dumb".)

    A representative question — advanced with all the rhetorical confidence and tragic folly of John Cleese asking, “What have the Romans ever done for us?” — is this:

    Really? Really? I suppose if you believe that the only useful institution in our universe is the government — and, in tandem, that you have convinced yourself that it is never adequately funded — then you might plausibly struggle to answer this. But that’s on you. Extraneous conduct aside, what billionaires have “contributed to society” are the things that made them billionaires in the first instance. Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Phil Knight, Jeff Bezos, Eric Schmidt, Walt Disney — these men did not spring up from the earth, fully formed as tremendously rich guys. They created products — computers and phones; shoes and athletic gear; ubiquitous online shopping; retail hardware stores; movies, TV shows, and amusement parks — that other people wanted to pay for. Lots of people. Oodles of people. Millions of people, in fact. And when those millions of people wanted to pay for those products, billions of dollars changed hands. The billionaires got the money, and the buyers — some of whom are now complaining about it — got the products. This was voluntary, virtuous, and, in almost all cases, useful.

    CCWC for the win.

  • Don't cry for her, South Dakota. Jim Geraghty performs the indispensible duty of throwing a few more of Kristi's flaws onto the pyre: Kristi Noem Has No One to Blame but Herself. Among (many) other items, Jim puts that Mount Rushmore ad into context:

    You can watch the 60-second DHS ad here. Featuring Noem on horseback at Mount Rushmore and a lot of stock footage, it is utterly indistinguishable from a campaign ad. As Axios put it in October, “The most expensive political ad campaign of the year is being run by the Department of Homeland Security.” For perspective, in 2025, the campaign of Virginia Democrat Abigail Spanberger spent $28.4 million on TV ads, or just under 13 percent of the DHS spending. Except Spanberger spent her donors’ money, and Noem spent ours.

    If that ad campaign had been a television series, it would have ranked among the most expensive series of all time. That’s the total amount in Green Bay Packers quarterback Jordan Love’s contract extension in 2024, when he became the highest-paid player in NFL history to that point. DHS could have bought anywhere from 770 to 880 Lamborghinis for that sum, depending upon the model.

    Now, if you’re skeptical that President Trump would approve a $220 million ad campaign, the president told Reuters that he knew nothing about it.

    Except Kristi testified under oath that he approved it. So either Trump or Kristi's lying. Want to guess who?

  • Nothing? Come on, Peter; she gave you something to write about! Peter Suderman asserts (nevertheless): There is nothing positive to say about Kristi Noem's tenure at DHS.

    Noem was let go with a few nice remarks from President Trump and an appointment to a new gig, special envoy for the Shield of Americas. What, exactly, is the Shield of Americas? No one can say for sure. I can't prove that it's a fake, made-up, face-saving appointment. But it sure looks like a fake, made-up, face-saving appointment. Apparently, there's a Shield "summit" at a Trump golf club this weekend.

    Just keep her away from the puppies.

  • I can't help but notice that the New York Times is doing clickbait headlines for geezers. Dave Barry gets sucked in by one: Are You Aging Well? 4 Simple Tests to Find Out. (Fun fact: Dave is approximately 3½ years older than I am.)

    I am 78 and a half years old. At this stage of my life, my definition of “aging well” is “still not dead.” Nevertheless I was curious to see what trajectory I’m on, so I clicked on the article, which lists four physical tests you’re supposed to take. The first one is called the “Sitting-Rising Test.” Here’s how the Times describes it:

    The goal with this assessment is to go from standing to sitting on the floor, and back up again, using the least amount of support as possible. The test is scored on a 10-point scale — five points for sitting down and five points for standing up — and you lose a point for every hand, knee or other body part you use to help yourself. Subtract a half point if you’re unsteady or lose your balance.

    So my goal was to get an 8, although I would have settled for a 7, or even, given my advanced age, a 6. I took the test in the privacy of my bedroom, going from standing to sitting on the floor, then back to standing again, using as few body parts as possible to help myself. I don’t mean to brag, but on my very first try, with no practice and without warming up, I scored somewhere around minus 137. There was no way I could keep track of the exact number of body parts I used to help myself get down and back up, but it was definitely most of them, including at one point, I believe, my spleen. Also if you count a bedpost as a body part, my actual score was closer to minus 138.

    I'm not even gonna tell you my score.

Recently on the book blog:

The Doorman

[Amazon Link]
(paid link)

Picked this up at the Portsmouth (NH) Public Library thanks to its inclusion on the WSJ list of 2025's best mysteries (WSJ gifted link). If that's not enough for you, the book's Amazon page will reveal more copious critical praise.

But a mystery? Or even a crime thriller? You may ask yourself those questions until around page 307 of the 386-page hardcover; no mystery, and the crimes, if any, are pretty minor before that. But those last 80 pages are pretty blood-soaked.

The book reminded me somewhat of Tom Wolfe's novels, although the author's politics seem to be a couple miles to the left of Wolfe's. We have a detailed look at the three central characters: (1) Chicky is the titular doorman, working at the "Bohemia" apartment building on Central Park West in Manhattan. An honorable widower who is not just teetering on the edge of financial ruin, he's dropping down the cliffside, hitting every rocky outcropping and cactus on the way down. (2) Emily, living up in Bohemia's apartment 11C and D, is trapped in her marriage to a fantastically wealthy cartoon villain she despises. And (3) Julian, down in the much cheaper (but not cheap) apartment 2A, a "gallerist" (look it up, I had to) who is being edged into irrelevance by changing tastes and has a pretty serious health problem.

For the first 300-or-so pages, there is (of course) some building suspense, as we see hints and foreshadowing of what the book's finale will bring. But it's mostly a (very) well-written examination of the characters' inner lives and their environment. There's plenty of strife (economic, racial, ethnic, social), some steamy sex scenes, infidelity, occasional perversion. Just don't go in expecting a whodunit; keep your eyes open and you'll figure it out before it's revealed.


Last Modified 2026-04-13 11:29 AM EDT