I thought this was an interesting and sad story in Illinois: A Confederate soldier's grave tended by locals, who have searched and cannot find his identity. He apparently died as a prisoner of war while heading north on a train.

Happy Birthday to Me, June 29

So who was born on my birthday? I've always thought it was a less than spectacular group:

George Washington Goethals (1858-1928), chief engineer and later governor of the Panama Canal

William Borah (1865-1940), US Senator from Idaho, prominent Republican Progressive leader

Slim Pickens (1919-1983), cowboy actor

There are assorted other athletes (Harmon Killebrew and Pepper Johnson), actors (Fred Grandy and Gary Busey).

What happened of note on June 29? A lot of bad things, by the looks:

Shakespeare's Globe Theater burned down, the Townshend Act was levied on the American Colonies, the US purchased some Mexican desert property in the Gadsden Purchase (nice Franklin Pierce reference there), and the Second Balkan War began.

Pope Pius XI was pretty busy on June 29, issuing two papal encyclicals, one on the dangers of movies (you tell 'em!), one on "Catholic Action in Italy," and yet another on St. Thomas Aquinas.

It is also the Feast of Sts. Peter and Paul.

Ah, yes, Jerusalem. Written by William Blake, as you probably know. But what you almost certainly didn't know was that the "dark Satanic mills" referred to in the hymn are not the harbingers of industrialized Britain, but Oxford and Cambridge.

All in all it's a rather strange song, what with the reference to a youthful appearance of Jesus in Britain (taken to Glastonbury by his uncle, Joseph of Arimathea, who in the rather sophisticated legend was a tin-trader who made voyages to the west of England for the purposes of swapping commodities with the barbarians). Funny that it should be so popular.

But so it is, and they sing it with gusto on the "Last Night of the Proms", the final concert in a traditional BBC summer classical music series. The English Intelligentsia naturally see it as a terrifically jingoistic occasion, all very embarassing. Naturally it is instead very polite and sweet. The week after September 11th the BBD orchestra did not play Jerusalem as part of their traditional closer, which seemed rather strange to me. Hadn't they read the bloody thing? Seemed like that was the best of all times to sing it once more, with feeling.

Some good news from the North, where things are tied up once again despite some dreadful Canuck Tory goofs.

So I am either not a jinx, or I am being toyed with by a Higher Power. Hmmmm.

Up for some British imperial music? Who isn't? A nice collection of these hymns and songs here. I especially recommend Jerusalem, always a favorite, which is also apparently regarded by most Englishmen as their national anthem. Darn good choice.

In commemoration of these Canadian holidays, read Mark Steyn ("Ask a Washed-Up Canadian!") on St. Jean Baptiste Day.

O Canada

The United States has but one day of national celebration, but our neighbors to the North have twelve. Yes indeed "In the twelve days leading up to Canada Day, all Canadians are encouraged to celebrate their pride in their country by participating in "Celebrate Canada!" activities. From June 21, National Aboriginal Day, through Saint-Jean Baptiste Day on June 24, and culminating with Canada Day, you and your family may take part in a myriad of events and activities organized in your community." (Doubtless the election is just one of those organized activities designed to "Celebrate Canada!")

All this national pride and yet Canada is primarily represented in e-cards for this day as either a bucktoothed beaver, a moose, a ridiculous polar bear, an animated maple leaf, or a goofy mountie, whereas for the e-cards for our one day of national celebration, Glorious Fourth, the US is generally represented by the flag, an eagle or the Statue of Liberty.

Hmmm.

A Voice Crying in the Wilderness

Today is also the Feast of St. John the Baptist, or as they would put it in Francophone countries where this day used to have particular importance, Clovis having cleverly aligned the birthday of John the Baptist with the summer solstice, La Fete de la St. Jean Baptiste. Now alas the feast of God's angry young man is just a secular nationalist day for French Canadians. Somehow I don't think acerbic and devoted St. John would be flattered.

On the liturgical cooking front though it is an ideal time to cook up the last of those cicadas you may have sitting in your freezer, unless you have access to some fresh caught locusts. Some scholars do argue that the locust referred to in the Bible is not the hippity-hoppity creature but rather the pod of the locust tree, carob as it were. Disappointing as this thought is, do feel free to cling to this interpretation if entomophagy is not your thing. Wild honey however is de rigueur.

However you mark the day though do give the last embodiment of the Law his due, for fond though I am of him, he makes me most grateful for the embodiment of Grace.

The Shakespeare conspiracy theorists are at it again, this time having birthday celebrations for the "real" Shakespeare.

Bob Dylan received an honorary degree from St. Andrews University in Scotland. That thumping you hear is Russell Kirk turning over in his grave.

And today is the anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn, where in 1314, the Scots routed the English forces under Edward II and maintained Scottish independence.

Oh my heavens. Having just read the magnificent Christopher Hitchens' review of Michael Moore's film, I am nearly out of breath and weeping. He does have some rock-ribbed Mencken moments, no?

To describe this film as dishonest and demagogic would almost be to promote those terms to the level of respectability. To describe this film as a piece of crap would be to run the risk of a discourse that would never again rise above the excremental. To describe it as an exercise in facile crowd-pleasing would be too obvious. Fahrenheit 9/11 is a sinister exercise in moral frivolity, crudely disguised as an exercise in seriousness. It is also a spectacle of abject political cowardice masking itself as a demonstration of "dissenting" bravery.

To use language this well (sigh).

Yet Moore is a silly and shady man who does not recognize courage of any sort even when he sees it because he cannot summon it in himself. To him, easy applause, in front of credulous audiences, is everything.

An insecure buffoon seeking out applause. Nothing more.

However, I think we can agree that the film is so flat-out phony that "fact-checking" is beside the point. And as for the scary lawyers—get a life, or maybe see me in court. But I offer this, to Moore and to his rapid response rabble. Any time, Michael my boy. Let's redo Telluride. Any show. Any place. Any platform. Let's see what you're made of.

Them's fightin' words! Take up the challenge! I want to buy a ticket!

If Michael Moore had had his way, Slobodan Milosevic would still be the big man in a starved and tyrannical Serbia. Bosnia and Kosovo would have been cleansed and annexed. If Michael Moore had been listened to, Afghanistan would still be under Taliban rule, and Kuwait would have remained part of Iraq. And Iraq itself would still be the personal property of a psychopathic crime family, bargaining covertly with the slave state of North Korea for WMD. You might hope that a retrospective awareness of this kind would induce a little modesty. To the contrary, it is employed to pump air into one of the great sagging blimps of our sorry, mediocre, celeb-rotten culture. Rock the vote, indeed.

Well, that puts it all together, doesn't it? The world would be a far sorrier place if the "great sagging blimp" had his way. I need a drink.

Funny you should ask about good political memoirs, as I was thinking about such things the other day. Who was the first president to write his memoirs?

Well, I think it was Martin Van Buren (haven't read it, shame on me), right? Did Tyler?

Followed by James Buchanan (read it and liked it, big surprise -- a contrarian, stick-in-Lincoln's eye account of the US leading up to 1861).

Then U.S. Grant, who wrote about his generalship but not his presidency (on my shelf, haven't read it, although it was widely respected and Mark Twain helped get it published. Still in print too).

Did Cleveland publish his? Don't think so, although he did write a book called "Presidential Problems" after he left office.

TR? Good one, I think so, but I cannot call it to mind.

Coolidge wrote the absolute dullest, information free memoir ever.

Hoover must have much later in life probably in the 50s or 60s.

Truman, yes. Eisenhower, not on the presidency if I recall correctly. Nixon, yes. Ford, yes. Carter, yes. RR, yes. Bush...another good question, not sure. BC, now yes.

Thus presidential memoirs are relatively recent phenomena: pre-1900, I count only 3, 1900-1950, 2, 1950-2000, 5.

What's really interesting is that it took the Welsh so long to hide that St. George painting, laden as it is with more political than religious symbolism. The congregation must have viewed the Reformation as a heaven sent excuse.

What's even more interesting is that Doc has been silent on Niall Ferguson's latest.

As for our wine recommendation for the day...well it's not really a wine. The Hitchens' Vineyard has brought out its June 2004 grappa. Whoa!

Lot of stuff out there today...allow me to summarize.

•The science of the brain freeze is revealed to a hitherto horrified adolescent world. This is the sort of information that I wish i had had back in 1688, when 7-11 rolled out the first slurpee. Yes, I was there.

•It was Reagan, Reagan, Reagan; now it's going to be ClintonClintonClintonClintonClinton. The BBC wonders why it is that political memoirs are so lousy [do you recall reading a good one, Doc?]. And speaking of the BBC, David Dimbleby asked Mr. Clinton his usual close, penetrating, rude, in-your-face questions, and Mr. Clinton got very angry. Hmmm. Clinton should have watched tapes of Rumsfeld dealing with Dimbleby. That was a gladatorial combat to remember. And Mr. Clinton should thank his lucky stars and be thankful that it was Dimbleby and not Paxo.

•Apparently the White House is considering speeding up the process of hiring a new director of CIA. They should. What they should do is appoint someone with the job of cracking heads and firing people, while moving up junior talent to positions of responsibility. That's what has to happen in a war; it's called battlefield promotion. My pick for the job would be Rudy Giuliani. But I doubt that such a person would be selected. The safe bet seems that it will be Porter Goss, the head of the House intelligence committee, and a former CIA case officer in the '60's. I doubt that he would be the reforming chief that's needed. Probably better in that role would be Congressman Chris Cox.

•My jinx is still on: The Globe and Mail smugly reports that the Conservatives are down six points in the polls as the Canadian election approaches on frosty, maple-syrup flavoured feet.

•And Mark Steyn patiently explains European realities, and What Federalism Means.

Interesting story: While making repairs to a Welsh church, builders uncover a large mural depicting St. George slaying the dragon that has been covered up since the Reformation.

Fido's Fashion

I've been worried about this for a long time, and I daresay you have too, but finally dogs in Bavaria can wear lederhosen, even if Bavarians claim that the only dog that looks really good in lederhosen is a dachshund. (Mind you a Spitzerich looks quite fetching in an Alpine hat.)

What a pity that Scooter is a boy Corgi otherwise he could wear the Welsh national costume.

A Murrain Upon Him


I too saw the Brit speak article, and while I do laugh when Albert rolls out a "I might do" and roll my eyes when he mispronounces "schedule" and have threatened the employer with certain and immediate death if he pronounces "pasta" in the British fashion in my hearing (which is perhaps unfair since he is British. Still, a girl has to have standards.) this is what I have to say to the author of the article:

Sod off.

Sure some people use Briticisms due to pretension, but there are others who use them as idiosyncrasies of speech due to reading and exposure. As his absurd slam of Gov. Schwarzenegger illustrates, the author doesn't bother to distinguish between these usages. Der Arnold, complains the professor, says "a coffee" instead of "a cup of coffee." Well here's a newsflash for you, Herr doktor professor of journalism, Germans frequently shorten the formal "eine tasse Kaffee" (a cup of coffee) to "ein Kaffee" (a coffee), so Der Arnold is not being pretentious, he's simply doing in English what he would do in German, and as his usage is neither incorrect nor ungrammatical, it seems to me you could lighten up a bit there, chum. Compared all the "modern" twaddle spoken and written by academics and journalist these days, a mere Briticism comes as a positive relief.

The Doc beat me by a couple of minutes with his post on Briticisms. Myself, I am more guilty of them than most, what with four years spent and misspent in that Island Kingdom. Jennifer snickers a lot whenever I utter a (involuntarily, I swear) "it might do", or such similar idiom. "I reckon" is also a favorite. No doubt she can come up with quite a list of others. But I attempted to avoid such things, lest friends and family suspect that I was trying to become some sort of 21st century Cary Grant, or Hugh Grant mimic.

What I rather resent from that Pravda essay...I'm sorry, I meant Chronicle of Higher Education ("Nossink is wrong, nossink at all, especially vit American Higher Education!")...is the following:

Generally a Yank can get away with at most one such locution in his or her active vocabulary, for example the person I know who likes to refer to his time "at university," the university in question being a large land-grant institution. Any more than that and he would be laughed out the door, like the professor who habitually shows up at faculty meetings in a bespoke suit, Turnbull and Asher shirt, and Liberty of London tie, done in a Windsor knot.

I scorn anyone who refers to having been "at university". But let the Birckenstocked mildewed athletic color striped sock wearing Rococo Marxist soy milk latte sipping ideologically hidebound narrowminded lefty reactionary denizens of any history department in this country try and laugh me out the door when I show up with proper tailoring, and I will take a malacca cane to their hairless quivering lily white backsides until they are red, and drive them from the departmental door into the outer darkness where they can wail, gnash their teeth and do Admissions counselling.

And stay the hell off my lawn, you damn academics!

(Whew.) Nothing like a little vituperation to purge the blood.

Right-o! It seems Americans prefer to use Briticisms. Lord knows I am guilty, and I think it's due to the large amount of British tv and radio I consume. I always find myself saying things like "I'd like a cuppa" when I want a cup of coffee, or even that something is "brilliant" when it is pleasing.

A fastball thrown by Samuel Huntington, clearly stating that America was and still is a highly religious and essentially Christian nation. And because of its greath wealth and great religiosity, it is (dare I say) exceptional.

Like a pin to a balloon -- Waugh on Joyce: he wrote absolute rot, you know. He began writing quite well and you can see him going mad as he wrote, and his last books - only fit to be set for examinations at Cambridge. Ha!

Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition! And now, according to an exhaustive Vatican study, we find that the Inquisition was not as brutal as many thought -- only 1.8% of trials ended in execution, and in Spain, of the 125,000 trials, only 2% of defendents were doomed.

The things you find when you hang off a cliff -- a 1,250 year old Christian grave was found on a cliff in Pembrokeshire, Wales. An ancient corgi grave perhaps? One can always hope.

The South Is Different

And it's not all due to malaria.

From today's CQ Midday update:

"If poise, beauty and looking good in a swimsuit are traits desired by North Carolina voters, then Rep. Richard M. Burr, R-N.C., has scored himself quite a coup in his bid for a Senate seat. The Charlotte OBSERVER reports that in two weeks, the outgoing Miss North Carolina, Dana Reason, will join his campaign as a field representative. "I'll be the name and face of the campaign," Reason, 25, told the paper. Burr is running against former Clinton White House Chief of Staff Erskine Bowles to succeed retiring North Carolina Democratic Sen. John Edwards. Reason was an intern in North Carolina Republican Sen. Elizabeth Dole's successful 2002 Senate campaign against Bowles. "I really was impressed by his message," Reason said of Burr. "I didn't feel like I was meeting a politician, but a person." The new Miss North Carolina will be crowned June 26. "

It Had to Happen

A baker who lost nearly half his customers to the low-carb craze has tapped Dan Brown's best-seller for an Atkins alternative called the "Da Vinci Diet" that he hopes will bring people back to bread.

A little-known math theory kneaded with biblical lore from The Da Vinci Code has transformed Stephen Lanzalotta into a dietary sage. His lectures promote a diet he has followed for decades to maintain a muscular 160 pounds into middle age.

Numerology aside, it's a low-fat Mediterranean diet, and very good sense it makes, too.

The United States Army has selected a new field uniform. I think it's very practical, and very intelligently designed. Maybe that's because they took input from soldiers, for once.

Now if they would only get rid of those stupid "Ranger Bob" uniforms, and alternate between the sharp dress blues we saw so much of during the week of Reagan's funeral and these new BDU's, well, that would be fine with me. And what a cost savings! No more desert-specific camouflage, the elimination of an entire class of uniforms...That should be money enough for a division. Or maybe one F-22. Maybe.

I look forward for an fashion assessment from Jennifer, whom the Doc has called our "Style Editor".

I am still smarting from the failure of my beloved Howard Dean (that's Dr. Dean to you, proles), but that does not prevent me from making the following prediction: the Canadian Conservative Party will soon be forming a new government, and Stephen Harper will be the Canadian Premier. Last night's debate was a major step towards that happening. Things seem to be going very well, very well indeed. It's just a couple of weeks until the vote.

Stand by for the inevitable E.J. Dionne article which will shrill in loud, frightened tones, "Hang on! Progressives aren't dead yet! They landed on their feet!"

Welcome to Parliament, dude

Apparently, the British Parliament doesn't like you, but is trying to shape up. A new committee has recommended that, in the wake of the infamous purple powder attack on PM Tony Blair, MPs should strive to make the old place a whole lot friendlier. No longer will visitors to the Commons Chamber be called "strangers" (this is decidedly unfriendly and alientating, don't you know) and guides will be posted around the building, smiling, and saying things like "How can I help? Where do you want to go?" You know, like Walmart.

Says MP Peter Hain: Parliament shouldn't be a private club where members of the public are treated only on sufferance ... They should be welcomed in - it's their democracy after all. It's not MPs' democracy or House officers' democracy - it's the citizens' democracy ... I think we can make Parliament a much more voter friendly place and a much more modern institution that young people identify with.

First, it is essentially a private club, but much stricter than the Elks Lodge, with a long history, traditions, rules, and etiquette. To attend and view Parliament is a privilege. Not everyone can or should be there. Lighten up the image, take away its gravitas, and people will take it lightly.

Second, "it's the citizens' democracy" seems a bit pandering, stating a rather obvious fact that people back in the district vote for their MPs -- so what? Does that give voters the right to do anything they want in the building? Reminds me of the drunks at baseball games who say, "Hey, I bought a ticket, I can do anything I want, like scream obscenities at the players." No. You are here as a courtesy. Don't push it.

Third, there is nothing that makes my shoulders dip more than saying national institutions need to be made more youth-friendly and "modern." Pray tell, how this will happen? Flashing lights that blink "Par-lia-ment...Parliament!" Perhaps constant thumping background music, so that visiting Parliament is roughly similar to visiting the mall? Celebrity promotional visits to the Commons and Lords, maybe Britney Spears in a wig ("I'd just like to tell all the kids out there that the Lords rock.")? Maybe a whole new building, since the current one is so fuddy-duddy and yesterday (one Liberal Democrat called the Parliament building a "mock medieval, neo-Gothic palace")?

Like, dude, Parliament and, like this voting thing, is phat.

The Military and the Media

Mac Owens has an essay on National Review Online describing what he sees as a renewing deterioration of military-media relations.

It's probably worth pointing out that some of this deterioration comes about when the media doesn't do the job it should, viz., dig into all stories, not just ones about the US Army. Here's an extract from www.strategypage.com, a list of what the after-action investigation of that "Iraqi wedding" found, and it explains why Army commanders were so adamant that it wasn't wedding.

- The only permanent buildings at the site contained large stocks of food (the meat was still frozen solid), bedding, medical supplies, ammunition and weapons, as well a document forging operation. 

- The site was not prepared for a wedding feast, and there were no stocks of dishes,
plates, etc. and, most importantly, no  "Nuptial Tent," which is a standard feature of an Arab wedding.

- There was no evidence of any means of support for the house. The most common livelihood in the area is sheep raising, and there was no evidence of that at the site. All evidence pointed to a smuggler way station, similar to others found along the Syrian border in the past.

- The deceased "wedding guests" were almost all men of military age, only a couple of women, no elders at all. There was only one child, who was wounded. All the deceased were dressed as city dwellers, not as the local Arabs who would hold a wedding at such a location. All of the deceased lacked any form of ID on them. The only ID's found were stacked up inside the house, and these were fewer in number than those bodies found at the site.

- Weapons and equipment found there included RPG's, military binoculars, and bomb making materials.

- There was lots of clothing found, prepackaged in pants and shirt sets.

- Weddings are traditionally held on Thursdays in Iraq to take advantage of Friday as a day of rest. The bombing raid took place on Tuesday night.

- There were also no gifts, no decorations, no food set out or left over, and the good bit of money recovered was all in the pockets of the bodies found at the site.

What I wonder is, how come they didn't leak this before? There's more to military-media relations than embedding...

And, this just in, it seems that President Bush edited on the fly when he made those warm and gracious remarks about former President Clinton. There has been a leak of the actual speech.

Niall Watch

Alas, I neglected to post this essay by Mark Steyn on Niall Ferguson when it originally appeared...but it tastes just as good after some time in the fridge! Maybe even better!

This is particularly so because The Doc's "Favorite Historian" was at the time (April, when Sadr's Militia took to the streets) that the Shiite Uprising had Begun, as any Old Imperial Hand could have predicted, but those Stupid Yanks just don't read history, particularly enough of his own.

And, pray, where is this Shiite uprising? Hmmm...it seems to have gone the way of the ferocious Afghan winter. Waiter, crow for Dr. Ferguson.

Or, alternatively, a bit of salt from Dr. Steyn's shaker:

I was sorry to see Niall Ferguson, currently living high off the hog in the bosom of the Great Satan, reduced to peddling the Max Hastings bloody-ignorant-Yanks-blundering-around-the-world line in Saturday's Telegraph. He trotted through a brisk precis of the 1920 Iraqi uprising against the British and then wrote confidently: "I am willing to bet that not one senior military commander in Iraq today knows the slightest thing about these events."

I'll take that bet! What do you fancy? Ten thousand bucks per commander, rising commensurately as we go down the ranks? Last year, at a roadblock in the desert between Rutba and Ramadi, I spoke to a humble sergeant who, on discovering I wrote for this great British newspaper, said: "Wow! You guys got into some serious shit here, right?" On the passenger seat I had my copies of the Karshs' Empires Of The Sand and David Fromkin's A Peace To End All Peace. "That's a great book," he said of the latter.

Professor Ferguson's thesis is that the "ignoramus" Yanks are so hung up on theories of American exceptionalism that they decline to learn from the British experience. This accusation might more usefully be bandied closer to home, where London's governing class has, in little more than a generation, cut loose its imperial inheritance. If one were to pursue the parallel further, one might argue that the British Establishment is so hung up on theories of European exceptionalism it's shrugged off its own history.

Do read the rest of it. It still has the requisite bite, snap and crackle on the palate, mixed with the smell of prickly yet juicy raspberries, characteristic of the best years of the Steyn vintage.

I see that a collection of Evelyn Waugh's travel tales have been published, and get a lovely review at First Things. Must put that on my list (how intimidating at 1106 pages).

National Review's reprint of its massive and comprehensive defense of Reaganomics -- a combination of supply-side primer and "I-told-ya-so."

And with all the vagaries and change of the world, it's a sign of stability to see that the Colonel of Libya might still be up to his old crazy tricks, this time plotting to assassinate Crown Prince Abdullah of Saudi Arabia. But it's interesting to note that he wanted to do it to hike oil prices yet higher, not spread the cause of Islamo-Marxist revolution has codified in his unreadable "Green Book".

My, how times have changed.

Tellng a Newspaper By Its Cover

One of the things that is still very cool about England is that the big London broadsheet newspapers have a way with the cover art. They didn't hesitate, on September 12th, to devote the entire front page to a photograph. American editiors, and newspapers, just don't seem to have the technology or the courage to make a big splash. The cover of this mornings Washington Post is very boring indeed; but the online "cover" is wonderful, particularly the photo of the interior of the Capitol rotunda. This has to be the first-ever time I've preferred the design and look of an online version to the printed.

Canadian Liberals in Trouble

Or so one gathers by reading this Liberal-Sources-Only piece in the Globe and Mail. It makes for a pleasant muse, for those of us who assiduously follow Canadian politics. (Lector: Why do you follow Canadian politics? Auctor: Because they are fascinating? Lector: No doubt, no doubt...but why are they fascinating? Auctor: The stakes are so small.)

Just back from watching Mr. Reagan's funeral cortege. We were stationed in front of the Department of Labor and so were in perfect position to see everything, including the missing man formation beautifully executed right above us. I am pleased to say that everyone was extraordinarily well behaved and somber, despite the occasional eccentric clapping. (Apparently clapping is the only way we know how to give support.) I am even more pleased to say that when I went by the Capitol at 9:45, the viewing line stretched down the Hill and almost all the way around the Reflecting Pool and was actually longer than it sounds because around the Reflecting Pool it did not so much resemble a queue as it did a scrum.

The Heart of a King, and the Head of a Communist

This one is news to me, but apparently the heart of Louis XVII of France has been identified via DNA and was given a royal funeral by French royalists yesterday. Now a rock-hard, barely recognizable nugget in a crystal jar, it was apparently cut out of the dead king's chest (he was a boy of only 10 and died in a revolutionary prison of TB) and passed around as a secret souvenir for years.

Ok. Well, long live the king.

And a 9 foot high, giant bust of former Soviet leader and KGB director Yuri Andropov has been erected in Petrozavodsk, Russia, apparently upon the urging of local war veterans. Still, Russians liberals are a bit creeped out to have a giant KGB head looking at them. My favorite understated line from the BBC story: "But liberal groups have condemned the giant head."

Reagan Memories

There are of course floods of Reagan profiles, reminiscences, etc., being published this week. I noticed with a smirk this morning that the Washington Post must have been concerned about the positive coverage they were giving Reagan, since today they have a slew of "There were problems with his presidency" articles, including a bitter column by their new reliable lefty Harold Myerson. (When did he show up, btw? It must have happened while I was abroad.)

Here are the ones I've like the best, either because of the writing, perceptions, but usually because of the inside observations they bring to the piece. There was a quirky essay by Michael Beran which compares Reagan to the protagonist of Joseph Conrad's Lord Jim. Kenneth Adelman describes being Reagan's Director of the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency. The best part is the following anecdote:

The first epiphany came early in his administration, when we gathered in a formal National Security Council meeting in the Cabinet Room. Secretary of State Alexander Haig opened by lamenting that the Law of the Sea Treaty was something we didn't like but had to accept, since it had emerged over the previous decade through a 150-nation negotiation. Mr. Haig then proceeded to recite 13 or so options for modifying the treaty--some with several suboptions.

Such detail, to put it mildly, was not the president's strong suit. He looked increasingly puzzled and finally interrupted. "Uh, Al," he asked quietly, "isn't this what the whole thing was all about?"

"Huh?" The secretary of state couldn't fathom what the president meant. None of us could. So Mr. Haig asked him.

Well, Mr. Reagan shrugged, wasn't not going along with something that is "really stupid" just because 150 nations had done so what the whole thing was all about--our running, our winning, our governing? A stunned Mr. Haig folded up his briefing book and promised to find out how to stop the treaty altogether.

But probably the best of all the memories comes in an essay by another arms control negotiator, Max Kampelman, who gives illuminating glimpses into just how Reagan operated. Fascinating stuff.

And here's something else that shows Reagan's legacy; arms control negotiators just aren't as important as they were. They have less to do.

Neapolitans to the Rescue

I thought I would beat Jennifer to the punch with a food posting. Of course, it's more than just about food. It's about standards, and tradition, and what the heck you mean when you say the word "pizza".

Italian pizza makers, politicians and the modern-day proletariat had set aside a century's worth of squabbling over tomatoes, basil, cheese and oil to focus on a larger topic that threatened them all: Neapolitan pizza was under attack, facing impostors worldwide.

As one local pizza maker, Alfonso Cucciniello, put it: "Everyone in the world is trying to do this type of pizza. In Japan, in China, in the United States, in Miami."

"Pizza with pineapples?" he asked. "That's a cake."

You tell'em, Alfons! Hit em' again! You are the thin line between civilization and anarchy.

Has Someone Found Atlantis?

Fascinating story from the BBC about an aerial archaeological survey in southern Spain that has found something that looks uncannily like the mythical city described by Plato in the Timaeus and Critias. Frankly, I never expected that so much as a brick of the place ever existed. So to find what looks like rubble of a city grouped in concentric rings, just as Plato described, is more than a little surprising for me.

Truman's Korean Exit Strategy Finally Approaching Execution

Crying for Dr. Donne

Over on Bunnie Diehl , there's a bit of a discussion about whether it would be appropriate for churches to toll their bells on Friday to commemorate Mr. Reagan's passing. Some people object on the grounds that it mixes too much church and state.

I am as sympathetic as the next girl whose ancestors fled Germany because the State was too involved with the church and who hangs out with wild-eyed libertarians to worries about mixing church and state, but really there are limits as to how much one can worry about things. In my family worrying has been officially designated an Olympic sport but on this topic the limit has been reached.

The practice of the death knell is an ancient one in at least the English church. Doubtless it was primarily a parish wide notification system, but it was also a commemoration of a life and a reminder of mortality, for it was upon this aspect of it that John Donne mused in Meditation XVII, Nunc lento sonitu dicunt, Morieris. The meditation begins "Perchance hee for whom this Bell tolls, may be so ill, as that he knowes not it tolls for him." But its famous bit comes in the middle: "No man is an Iland, intire of it selfe; every man is a peece of the Continent, a part of the maine; if a Clod bee washed away by the Sea, Europe is the lesse, as well as if a Promontorie were, as well as if a Mannor of thy friends or of thine owne were; any mans death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankinde; And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. "

So yes the bells should toll for Mr. Reagan, not because he cut taxes, or saved civilization, but because he was a man.

"if by this consideration of anothers danger, I take mine owne into contemplation, and so secure my selfe, by making my recourse to my God, who is our onely securitie."

I wish I had more time to write, but I am so busy lately. Especially as I have so much to say about Ronald Reagan.

One thing that strikes me is all the talk about the popularity of President Reagan's "sunny disposition" rather than his ideas. It is almost as if the media is saying his personality sold his program rather than the widespread appeal of anti-communism/supply-side economics. I saw Sam Donaldson telling George Will the very thing, that the people liked him more than they did his philosophy.

What total horse manure. Ask youself this: had Ronald Reagan come out in 1980 and campaigned for higher taxes, bigger government, and unilateral disarmament, would the American people have rallied around him in a landslide? Please. No one could have sold that, and Carter certainly tried. The people liked the man and they liked his ideas. His "sunny disposition" and conservative politics were cut from the same cloth.

Some people still don't get it.

A rather tough-hitting, tough-charging essay in the latest Spectator, pricking the "greatest generation" balloon just a bit. The generation that saved England and the West from Hitlerian tyranny, turned tail and led the UK into a swamp of welfare state decline. For all their heroism in war, it was the D-Day generation that clamoured for, developed and exploited a welfare state. For more than 30 years they fostered the belief that the statism so necessary in conflict could be continued, with advantage, into the peace. The very institutions that had nurtured their resilience and sense of duty were, in turn, undermined by them. The family was torpedoed by the liberal divorce laws, and by the removal of the stigmas upon single parenthood and bastardy. The extended family, so vital in the 1920s and 1930s when the D-Day generation were children, was supplanted by the welfare state. Patriotism was ridiculed and caricatured by the very generation whose freedoms were secured by it, and cast aside in favour of post-imperial guilt. It is surprising, given the success with which the values and attitudes of the 1930s were put to use during the war, that the very people who harnessed them should have, in the subsequent peace, reacted so violently against them. What irony.

Party of the People? The wealthiest members of the Supreme Court (with investments in the millions) are David Souter, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Stephen Breyer, Sandra Day O'Connor, and John Paul Stevens. The "poorest?" Antonin Scalia, Clarence Thomas, and William Rehnquist.

Not Grandpa?

For years we've been hearing how similar chimps are to humans, with approximately only a 2-5% difference in genetic make up. Now genetic analysis indicates that they may not be that similar after all.