In what the White House billed as a major address on foreign policy last week, Vice President Joe Biden questioned the foreign policy credentials of presumptive Republican nominee Mitt Romney. He mocked Romney for once saying that the American people don't choose their  president based on foreign policy experience -- a point that candidate Barack Obama proved beyond doubt in 2008.

Since Biden raised the topic, however, it's worth asking how the man who came up with the idea of dividing Iraq into three autonomous states (remember that idea?) got his own foreign policy experience. To Biden's credit, he answered the question, as only he could, in the beginning of his speech.

I want to just state parenthetically that you know I ran -- not you know, but I ran for the United States Senate when I was 28 years old, and no one in my family on my dad’s side had ever been involved in public life.  And as one of my colleagues said, I’m the first United States Senator I ever knew.

And I ran at the time because I thought the policy we had in Vietnam, I didn't argue it as immoral, but I thought it just didn't make sense, the notion of dominoes and so on and so forth.

And I came to Washington as a 29-year-old kid.  I got elected.  Before I was eligible to serve, I had to literally wait to be sworn in because I wasn’t eligible under the Constitution.  You must be 30 years old.  And my image of the military commanders at the time was, if you ever saw that old movie, if you ever rented it, where Slim Pickens is on the back of an atom bomb, dropping out of an aircraft, yelling, Yippe, Kiyay.  (Laughter.)  And “Dr. Strangelove” was the movie.

If you’re reading this, you probably know that the Internet is the perfect place to entertain yourself when you’re bored, procrastinate when you have a term paper due, and waste time alone in your room. There’s a lot to see and do online, but one of the most mindless ways to pass the time on the world wide web is to troll around for internet memes–bits and pieces of content that go viral for one reason or another.

Most memes are harmless, entertaining, silly, and funny. Like this one, this one, or (one of my favorites) this one. Going viral can change lives–it can turn people into celebrities; get them record deals; and make them household names. Just consider the stories of Antoine Dodson and Rebecca Black.

But some memes are not only distasteful, they are mean and cruel. Just last week, one sixteen-year-old girl who has Down Syndrome discovered she was, as a child, the subject of a terrible internet meme–and that she and her family are now helpless to do anything about it.

According to Mashable:

When does an Internet joke go too far?

Years ago, a photo of a baby with down syndrome was taken from a support group website and turned into a controversial Internet meme. That child — now 16 years old — is Heidi Crowter, and Heidi just discovered what the entire Internet has been saying about her photo, according to The Sun.

Here you'll find a picture of a grown Heidi holding a laptop displaying the original meme that trolls posted to Facebook years ago. The meme is a picture of her as a child along with the caption “Lose your virginity to a retard.” Given how helpless and vulnerable a child with Down Syndrome is, the meme’s punchline–which is morally reprehensible for a litany of reasons–is especially disturbing because it has a hint of sexual violence in it.

Heidi’s parents have been trying to take the photos off the Internet, but that’s proven to be a very difficult task. Just last week, another website devoted to insulting people with Down Syndrome put the picture of Heidi up. You have to wonder who these sick people are–how could they derive pleasure out of bullying disabled children?

Heidi’s story highlights a central problem and tension in Internet culture: that the right to distribute content freely (which is arguably protected under the First Amendment) can clash against moral, decent, and civil behavior. The proliferation of the most lewd and disgusting forms of Internet pornography presents the same problem.

Why does Internet culture breed such uncivil behavior? The main problem, I think, is anonymity. When people can hide behind the veil of anonymity guaranteed by the Internet, they are more likely to abandon their inhibitions and flout societal norms in order to express and indulge their basest desires. After all, they don’t have to worry about their reputation. They are also removed from the real flesh-and-blood person that they are insulting (in the case of Heidi) or deriving pleasure from (in the case of online porn), which makes it much easier to be hurtful or perverse since compassion and empathy–emotions that thrive on the immediacy of human interaction–won’t kick in as a check on immoral behavior.

While most people are capable of cruel acts and depraved thoughts–it’s human nature–in society, those desires are checked. But in the online world, which is by and large unencumbered by social restraints, we see the scales of civility fall away. The golden rule is all but forgotten. In his essay for the book New Threats to Freedom (Templeton), Ron Rosenbaum explained this tendency perfectly:

“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a  mask and he will tell you truth.” So said Oscar Wilde. The problem with applying this insight to the culture of the Internet is not that the mask reveals the truth, but that the truth revealed by the anonymous “screen name” is a deeply disturbing vision of the face beneath the mask: a face frequently twisted with self-righteous hatred, fear, and paranoia. . . .

The blogosphere has certainly changed the character of political conversation, but in problematic ways. First, it has put the neighborly conversation that once took place over a picket fence or at the VFW dance on a vast and impersonal stage, before an audience that eggs on the most extreme ranters—those who seemingly have the leisure to spend their entire day haranguing the ether and harassing anyone who disagrees. Second, it provides a mask of anonymity that may have initially been intended to free blog commenters from the threat of exposure, but that now effectively immunizes them not just from exposure but from accountability, responsibility, and shame.

In The Moral Animal, Robert Wright noted that moral norms are meant to protect society’s weakest. When those norms (“accountability, responsibility, and shame”) are absent, it comes at the expense of the most helpless and vulnerable among us–people like Heidi.

Late last week, the Foundation for the Defense of Democracies' David B. Rivkin, Jr. and the Heritage Foundation's Charles D. Stimson published an op-ed in the Washington Post calling attention to a new law in Virginia that "forbids state employees, including police and members of the National Guard, from participating in the investigation, surveillance, detention or arrest of any suspected member of al-Qaeda or its affiliates, if that suspect is a U.S. citizen. "

It is disappointing that governors, particularly Republicans, have joined forces with the ACLU in a campaign against the war on terror. It is similar to the foolish and ineffective efforts of cities to oppose the Patriot Act in the years after its passage. But rather than repeat the excellent policy arguments against the actions of Virginia and other states, I want to point out that the law is also unconstitutional.  

The Constitution gives the federal government exclusive control over the nation's military; when enlistees join the state National Guard, they simultaneously join the federal National Guard. When the state guard is called into federal service, they become part of the federal army and are no longer in state service. The Constitution allows Congress to decide how to structure that military, and it gives the President as Commander-in-Chief the authority over their deployment. State governors have no right to decide how the National Guard is to be deployed when in federal service.

This is not just idle speculation about the Constitution's text.  In 1990, the Supreme Court decided this issue unanimously in Perpich v. Department of Defense, 496 U.S. 334. In the 1980s, several state governors objected to National Guard training missions in Central America.  The Court, however, ruled that state governors could not oppose the federal government's decision on how to train and deploy the National Guard when in federal service.  That principle indicates that these new wave of laws, also taken to oppose federal policies, violate the Constitution. As such, we should expect them to meet the fate they ultimately deserve.

If you followed the news this weekend, you may have heard about Chinese dissident Chen Guangcheng's thrilling escape from house arrest. The top of this New York Times story has the details:

BEIJING — For months, Chen Guangcheng, one of China’s best-known dissidents, played a cat-and-mouse game with the phalanx of guards encircling his home. He dug a tunnel to try to escape, a friend says, but was found out. And he sneaked out a video that alerted his supporters to the smothering confinement he said he and his wife endured at the hands of the men who kept them virtual prisoners in their rural farmhouse.

Then last Sunday night, in an improbable escape, Mr. Chen, who is blind and reportedly weak from months of mistreatment, scaled the wall that had been built around his house, slipped past his security detail and made a desperate sprint to apparent safety in Beijing. The daring rush for freedom could not have been possible without a small network of activists who risked detention to help him and who, supporters with knowledge of the escape said, used coded messages to communicate and elude a surveillance apparatus that is one of the world’s most pervasive.

By Saturday, three activists who had either helped him or had been advocates in the past had disappeared, including the woman who drove Mr. Chen more than 300 miles to Beijing and a man who admitted to meeting the dissident as he was shuttled between safe houses in the capital. The man’s wife said he was taken away by the police.

Friends of Mr. Chen, along with people in the Chinese government, say he is now inside the American Embassy in Beijing. If true, that creates diplomatic headaches for the United States just days before Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton and other American officials arrive for annual talks.

Harboring one of China's most well-known dissidents -- you may recall Christian Bale was roughed up trying to visit him in December -- sets up some interesting diplomatic challenges. And, in fact, the U.S. has sent a senior diplomat to Beijing to manage the crisis.

It's an amazing story, a tale of dramatic escape, made all the more compelling by the activist's blindness. One story I read quoted Ai Weiwei, another government critic who has faced slightly less hostile residential detention. After talking to a friend familiar with the escape, Ai said:

“You know he’s blind, so the night to him is nothing,” Mr. Ai said the friend told him. “I think that’s a perfect metaphor.”

In any case, you can read a dozen stories and not have the answer to what should be a shockingly simple question: From what, exactly, is Chen Guangcheng dissenting?

Once you find out, you have to wonder why it's missing from all the stories.

Washington Post columnist Jay Mathews argues that since far more people went to high school than college, we should reference that part of their history when talking to them. My parents graduated from high school in 1964. When any of their peers asked where they went to school, they didn't mean where my parents went to college, grad school or seminary, they meant high school. And in Denver, abbreviations ruled the day. My Dad went to "TJ" -- Thomas Jefferson. My Mom went to "GW" -- George Washington. In many ways, this explained much of what you needed to know about someone's adolescence and background. Mathews writes:

High school defines us. It is an educational experience we nearly all share. Useful abilities, such as reading, writing, math and our own peculiar talents for the most part take root in high school, or don’t, to our sorrow. High school offers lessons in love, social dynamics, news and what we are most likely to enjoy in our adult lives, at work and play. Hillsdale High School in San Mateo, Calif., gave me more than my colleges, Occidental and Harvard.

High school dramas are staples of television and cinema. Far more people attend high school sporting events than those at colleges. High school teachers are far more likely to have an impact on the lives of students than college professors.

Yet we don’t act as if any of that high school stuff is important. In a lifetime of social gatherings, I cannot remember ever being asked where I went to high school. The college experiences, on the other hand, are frequently discussed.

I think he may be on to something. I have barely any relationship with the University of Colorado, which granted me my economics degree. In many ways, I think Douglas County High School in Castle Rock, Colorado, defined me more. It was an excellent school with high-performing peers. We had many from our class go on to become doctors, scientists and academics. One of them even won a MacArthur Grant in her young 30s. Another is an Academy Award nominated actress. My best friends from that period of time remain my best friends. I didn't make lasting friendships in college, possibly due to the fact that I worked full time to pay for my schooling.

I don't have particularly fond memories of high school, except for the fact that I made some of my most enduring friendships during that time. I didn't make lasting friendships in college, possibly due to the fact that I worked full time to pay for my schooling. I've been thinking about this as I decide whether to attend my -- gasp -- 20th high school reunion this summer.

Anyway, I'm curious if any of you attended high schools that significantly influenced you.

Maureen Dowd writing in the New York Times this past weekend about the Vatican-appointed commission to ensure doctrinal soundness among American nuns:

Even as Republicans try to wrestle women into chastity belts, the Vatican is trying to muzzle American nuns....While continuing to heal and educate, the community of sisters is aging and dying out because few younger women are willing to make such sacrifices for a church determined to bring women to heel.

Aging?  Dying out?  Consider the Sisters of Life, founded in 1991 with just eight women.  The order, in which nuns spend four hours a day in prayer, devoting the rest of their waking hours to helping women with troubled pregnancies, has grown dramatically--as best I can tell from Googling around, they now number at least 100. And then there are the Dominican Sisters of Mary, Mother of the Eucharist, an order that has grown from four nuns upon its foundation in 1997 to more than 100 today--and in which the average age is just 28.

From the website of the Dominican Sisters of Mary (where I also found the photos):

At the dawn of the third millennium, Pope John Paul II called the Church to “take up her evangelizing mission with fresh enthusiasm,” to “put out into the deep” and to “open wide the doors to Christ!”  This call was repeated by Pope Benedict XVI as he closed his Inaugural Homily....

The Sisters...look to expand their community’s presence geographically, since their Motherhouse, located in Ann Arbor, Michigan, is now filled to capacity. In order to provide housing and adequate formation to the young women seeking to give their lives to Christ, the Sisters hope to establish priories in California and Texas.

Yes, Maureen, certain orders of American nuns are indeed dying out--but not the ones that forthrightly insist upon lives of sacrifice, sanctity, fidelity to the teachings of the Church, and devotion to the successor of Peter.

After listening to Ed Driscoll's interview with the movie's screenwriter and director, Whit Stillman, I took the missus out to see Damsels in Distress this evening.  The film is a low-budget indie, and it shows--sometimes the sound isn't quite right, and there are scenes that could have been better lit.  But the movie, about a group of girls attempting to do good in college--they spend time running a suicide prevention center, where, they have found, tap-dancing represents wonderful therapy--is charming and funny.  And in the lead character, Violet, played by Greta Gerwig, it presents one of the sweetest, most effective, and intelligent--Gerwig always underplays just underplays her lines--portrayals I've seen in months.

Since Rob and I have been kicking around the idea of member reviews--of films, books, television programs, and even (why not?) museum exhibitions--here's a Sunday evening experiment.  Below, an email from my friend Joe Malchow, who enjoyed Damsels in Distress as much as did my wife and I.  If you haven't seen the movie, Joe's comments might mean nothing at all to you.  But if you have--well, why not read what Joe says, then add a comment of your own?  A movie as skillful, evocative and enjoyable as Damsels in Distress represents a lovely topic for a Ricochet discussion, don't you suppose?

Dear Peter,

Wasn't Damsels in Distress clever? Strange but clever.

I do not know what your theory of the film was, but the two or three hours after viewing rewarded some thought.

I think the entire film is -- and its bright, waxy colors suggest as much -- the world as viewed by Violet. At first blush the film is about the beauty of a forceful personality. Violet's cohort are all flowers; they follow her; when she changes dress, they do. When Violet disappears for Motel 4, it is literally the entire college that goes searching for her. The rest of the girls hardly exist: one is picked up at the bar with a conversation of "hey," "hey," "hey." Another has been inventing her voice -- she isn't English, she is a blank slate which has attracted stronger content from the environment. Of course, the strongest is Violet -- always Violet. Her constant brightness, her deeply held theories which can change at a moment (when Lilly threatens to peel off from the group, and accuses Violet of being harsh, Violet accepts the charge immediately and vows to change) but which, whatever they are, are decisively and convincingly lived. But the story isn't really about the force of personality, as lovely as Violet's is. It is about whypersonalities like Violet's are infectious and good. It's about grace. Violet has grace. The soap is the manifestation of grace. Violet finds the soap at a dingy hotel. She loves that the hotel thought so much to provide good soap. But it isn't really great soap: just soap. But it's grace. She refers to the soap as a gift. It is freely given: the only gift in the film. Everyone, even the crusty construction workers, react to the soap. The suicide prevention house reorients its operation: now it's about packaging the soap and dispensing it to the school. At first the soap makes no difference, because it is wrapped up -- they toss it around. But eventually it has an effect. Violent sees a graceful world, and it is because she is graceful herself that she has such an effect upon the rest of the students.Best,Joe

Damsels in Distress, a movie about grace.  That's what Joe Malchow makes of it.You?

Okay, so I may have been more or less the last person on the planet to have learned the derivation of "jumping the shark," but this time I've got one for all of you, I promise.

It comes from The Fortune of War, the sixth in Patrick O'Brian's magnificent series of novels about life in the British navy during the Napoleonic wars.  In this scene, Irishman Stephen Maturin, a prisoner about the U.S.S. Constitution, discusses varieties of English with the Constitution's surgeon, a Mr. Evans:

‘Why, sure,’ said Evans, in his harsh nasal metallic bray, ‘the right American English is spoke in Boston, and even as far as Watertown. You will find no corruption there, I believe, no colonial expressions, other than those that arise naturally from our intercourse with the Indians. Boston, sir, is a well of English, pure and undefiled.’

‘I am fully persuaded of it,’ said Stephen. ‘Yet at breakfast this morning Mr Adams, who was also riz in Boston, stated that hominy grits cut no ice with him. I have been puzzling over his words ever since. I am acquainted with the grits, a grateful pap that might with advantage be exhibited in cases of duodenal debility, and I at once perceived that the expression was figurative. But in what does the figure consist? Is it desirable that ice should be cut? And if so, why? And what is the force of with?’

After barely a moment’s pause, Mr Evans said, ‘Ah, there now, you have an Indian expression. It is a variant upon the Iroquois katno aiss’ vizmi – I am unmoved, unimpressed. Yes, sir.’

"Cuts no ice with me" comes from the Iroquois.

Can anyone here at Ricochet claim, with a straight and sinless face, to have known that already?  Oh, I doubt that.  I doubt that very much.

I will now await a flood of comments, thanking me for the educational service I have just performed.

I write this with some hesitation, because it might merely confirm the notion that I am fast becoming a crotchety old man, but here goes: it’s time to get rid of the annual White House Correspondents’ Dinner. In the old days—pre-YouTube and Twitter—the dinner was a more-or-less private affair. There would be some quotes in the papers afterwards, but that was about it. Now it’s streamed live and can be watched on tape by millions, and it’s begun to have the feel of one of those interminable Hollywood awards shows. The jokes are dissected not only for humor content, but for balance and hidden meanings. Presidents are criticized for being insensitive to real problems, while emcees are damned or praised, usually depending on the political leanings of the listener. The targets of the barbs are expected to smile good-naturedly while everyone else is squirming in their seats, trying to pretend the whole evening isn’t more than a bit unseemly. I’ve been to a few of these events, and my squirming became so severe that I stopped attending.

The dinner was a good idea at its inception back in 1920. After all, we Americans rather like the idea that our presidents aren’t royalty, and we take pride in the fact that we are allowed to poke fun at them (I don’t recall many Castro roasts). But maybe it’s the growing mean-spiritedness of contemporary humor, or maybe it’s the nature of the problems facing the country and the world, but the whole thing comes off as sort of—if you’ll pardon a technical term—icky. Besides which, we don’t need these dinners to see the “lighter side” of our presidents. Between the tweeting and the talk shows, there’s no shortage of opportunities for our leaders to show us just how funny they are. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind having more chances to see how serious they are. 

"Daddy," my daughter said, "while you're resting for a couple of days, would you like to go to a Civil War Battlefield?"   After a solid month on the road, a few days of rest punctuated with an historical tour sounded like a splendid idea to me. Besides, neither one of us had been to this place and it would give my two-year old grandson a chance to run off some surplus energy.   So, after the little fellow and I watched his favorite movie, "Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo," we loaded up a few provisions and set out for Pickett's Mill.  

History records that this was a battle which the Union lost.  Pressing quickly toward Atlanta in 1864, General Sherman decided to veer away from the heavily fortified and waiting Confederate forces of Confederate General Joseph Johnston at Altoona Pass, opting instead to steer due south from Marietta to Dallas, Georgia.  Searching for an adequate route, Sherman's forces encountered the forces of   Confederate General John Bell Hood, at New Hope.  Hood's forces stood their ground, surprising Sherman, who dispatched 14,000 of his men, under the command of Union General Oliver O. Howard to attack General Hood's forces from their right flank.  

On the morning of May 27th, 1864, while artillery rained down on Confederate forces at new Hope, General Howard ordered Brigadier General Thomas Wood to move his men to the right flank of the Confederates, a task that was easier said than done through the thick brush and lopsided North Georgia terrain.  General Wood's forces became disoriented, as their uncertain progress slowed considerably and allowed time for Confederate forces to shift in bulk toward the approaching Union soldiers.  

Advancing on the farm of Benjamin and Malachi Pickett, Union soldiers ran smack into forces of one of the best commanders of the Civil War, Confederate General Patrick Cleburn.  Venturing into what little open real estate there was, Union forces came under withering fire.  With support forces delayed by the nearly impassable terrain, the order to retreat was given and Union forces fell back.  Within the hour, a second attack by support forces was ordered, which attack met the same fate as the first.  That evening, at 10PM, Confederate forces went on offense, running Federal soldiers still further north.  It was a loss which set back General Sherman's plan to make a big bonfire of Atlanta by about a week, at the cost of approximately 1,600 Union and 500 Confederate casualties.  

I was standing outside the Information Center, trying to visualize the area engulfed in the thick smokey chaos of battle, with disparate orders being shouted simultaneously, the crack of tree limbs broken by incoming shots, primal cries of war mixed with cries of anguish, when through the tumult in my mind I heard, "Grandpa!"  It was my little grandson, Daniel, with my daughter, Christie.  "I got pinecone!" he bragged.  Happily uninformed of the savagery that once shook the ground where he stood, the little guy had mistaken our expedition for a pinecone inventory.  Picking them up can be a prickly experience though, so he instead would call one out and then kick it.  

The map showed three walking trails behind the Visitor Center, traced in white, blue, and red, with red being the longest at almost 2 miles and white being the shortest at one mile.  It looked like the red trail would bring us to an open battlefield before intersecting with the blue trail that would take us back to the Visitor Center.  So, after viewing a short video and looking at a few relics inside, we set out on a walking tour of the property. 

The last actual historical battlefield I had toured on American soil was Yorktown, and it was an unforgettable experience.  To see the trenches, to learn the tactics, the challenges, and get some insight into the incredible courage of the soldiers was a singular inspiration and I was anxious to soak it all in again.  The trail at Pickett's Mill consisted of a dirt path that varied in width.  It started out level enough, and wide enough for three of us to follow the painted red marks on the trees in front of us.  Our progress was slow as Daniel determined that there were many pinecones in need of kicking, but in time we were far enough down the trail that the Visitor Center was no longer in sight.  The trail narrowed significantly and the terrain became decidedly more difficult.  

Climbing a particularly steep hill, using exposed roots as steps, I was convinced that the top of the hill would open up to a vast field with defensive fighting positions, perhaps signs that explained what took place exactly where that fateful day in 1864, and a chance to catch our breath.  I was wrong.  The top of the hill revealed nothing more than the next hill.  The trail was now narrow enough for only a single file procession, and Daniel had to abandoned the pinecones after tripping and falling face first into the dirt.  But he's a tough customer.  He brushed himself off, saying, "Grandpa, I almost fall down!"  We decided it would be best if he held an adult's hand while we walked, which of course he resisted until my daughter told him that Grandpa needed his help.  So he took my hand and began mimicking every groan and grunt I made.   

Trudging up the next hill, I was eager to finally lay eyes on the battlefield and see for myself where the Federals ran into the cutting firepower of General Cleburn.  Perhaps there was a water fountain up there too, for old soldiers and their families to rehydrate for just a moment on this increasingly arduous trip.  The brush was thick over the trail, and I caught just the slightest scent of some sort of animal upwind.  This was more of an adventure than a tour, but the top of the hill was in sight and we knew from the map that there were some sort of buildings at the battlefield as well.  Finally, we crested the peak and beheld, …a steep descent into an area so overgrown with brush that it was difficult to see the trail.   Still there, were little red marks on a tree every 25 yards or so.  

Then came the bugs.  Some were dive bombing Christie, and making little bites.  Others were buzzing around my ears.  I could hear them but couldn't swat them away because I had a grandson in one hand and a backpack of grandson supplies in the other.   After a few more hills and ravines, our red trail finally joined with the blue one, giving us hope that the blue trail would double back toward the Visitor Center.  It didn't.  We crossed a creek of some sort, and then embarked on steep climb that no one with a small child should undertake.  Grandpa carried Daniel and Christie carried Daniel's supplies.  Evidently the union forces had needed a break at about that point as well, because there were two old park benches at the top of the hill.  Winded and tired, we sat down.  Daniel and Christie had chips and juice, and I began to worry.  We had already followed the trail to a dead end before realizing that it had branched the other way.  The thickness of the woods and winding hills made it nearly impossible to get one's bearings.  Using the compass on my smartphone, I had a general idea which direction the Visitor Center was, but the trail was proving increasingly difficult to determine and navigate.  

"I'll run up the trail just a little and see if there's anything there," Christie said.  I was too winded to argue.    A few minutes later, Daniel and I decided  she had been gone too long.  I've read too many headlines where someone runs ahead to scout the trail only to have something bad happen.  Daniel and I were re-packing his bag when she came back and reported that she found some other visitors who said they were also lost and trying to find their way back to the Visitor Center.  So rather than continue, we gave up on ever finding a battlefield and, indeed, gave up on the notion that one even existed.  We saw no historical signs explaining what happened that awful day in May of 1864.  No trenches.  No cannons. No grassy areas where a respectable battle might be fought.  We saw no battlefield, but only a damnable intermediate terrain navigation course.  

Maybe there was a battlefield somewhere.  The history books talk about it, after all.  But the Visitor Center must have been built in the next county over.  Little Daniel was just worn out  and had to be carried.  He's tall for his age, and must have weighed around 35 pounds when we began carrying him back to the car.  I judge that he gained a couple hundred pounds by the time we got there.  

"How did you like your tour of the battlefield?" the sadistically smiling bearded swindler behind the cash register asked as we staggered into the Visitor Center.  I managed a rather undiplomatic response to the effect that it didn't exist, whereupon he took me outside and pointed to various points of interest that existed "over there" someplace.  It was all fine by me, as long as we could, …just, ….leave.  Some 30 years ago, I would have had a walk like that for breakfast, with 70 pounds of gear on my back and a 23 pound M-60 machine gun in hand.   And I would have been paid to do it, rather than pay for the privilege as we had on this day.   But those days are gone, and the trail wasn't fit for small children, either. 

Then again, our bug bites, aching legs, exhausted bodies and diminished spirits were but a minor inconvenience, a trifling insignificance compared with what the men who died at Pickett's Mill endured.  They fought every element of nature we had encountered that day without the benefit of a trail, or painted marks on trees.  Laboring under the weight of their own gear, each hill taller and more steeply treacherous than the last, these men pressed on until finally, exhausted and confused, they were cut down by the thousands.  Author Ambrose Bierce served with the Union Army at Pickett's Mill.  Here's what he had to say about it: 

The battle, as a battle, was at an end, but there was still some slaughtering that it was possible to incur before nightfall; and as the wreck of our brigade drifted back through the forest we met the brigade (Gibson's) which, had the attack been made in column, as it should have been, would have been but five minutes behind our heels, with another five minutes behind its own. As it was, just forty-five minutes had elapsed, during which the enemy had destroyed us and was now ready to perform the same kindly office for our successors. Neither Gibson nor the brigade which was sent to his "relief" as tardily as he to ours accomplished, or could have hoped to accomplish, anything whatever.

"Is Slow Growth Actually Good for the Economy?"  That, I'm not joking, was an actual headline at NPR.  

The headline not only exposes  the Obama-water-carrying attitudes at NPR, it also exposes the fact that NPR is filled with what I call "insular progressives."  The latter are people with extremely liberal views, who have surrounded themselves with like-minded people.  As a consequence, they are apt to say things that moderates and conservatives find ridiculous.  But they never or rarely learn that because they have so little interaction with moderates and conservatives.  Probably most professors and most mainstream journalists, I believe, could reasonably be called "insular progressives." 

This time, however, the NPR progressives seem to have realized their insular nature, and it seems they became embarrassed by the headline.  They changed it to "Is Moderate [my emphasis] Growth Actually Good for the Economy?"

What brought on the embarrassment?  How'd the progressives at NPR come to realize how ridiculous their headline was?

It appears that two people, Gabriel Malor and Michelle Malkin, and one institution, Twitter, are most responsible.  Malor wrote a link to the headline along with the the following tweet: "Unbelievable.  Actual NPR headline."  He wrote another tweet making fun of NPR's headline:  "Is high blood pressure actually good for your health?"

Malkin retweeted Malor's tweet, and she urged her twitter followers to "let the NPR headlines games begin."  Here are some of the faux NPR headlines.  They include "Is cancer actually good for the body?" and  "Was Seal Team Six good for bin Laden?".

I suspect that this story will gain some traction--at least among blogs and talk radio.  I also suspect it will catch the attention of some members of Congress.  NPR executives concerned about their taxpayer subsidies can't be too happy with this.

For me, one of life’s enduring mysteries is how so many people seem to take Al Sharpton seriously.  He is a man who came to prominence in perpetration of a slanderous hoax, one for which he has yet to express remorse.  He is a charlatan of the first order, though he seems to make a handsome living at it.  It beats working, one supposes.

Mr. Sharpton was here in Los Angeles recently to mark the two-month anniversary of Trayvon Martin’s death.  L.A. might seem an odd choice of venue to for the occasion until one remembers that Sunday is the 20th anniversary of the Rodney King riots.  Shaprton’s thinly veiled message is this: Consider the potential consequences if the criminal justice system fails to produce the result that the No Justice, No Peace crowd desires.  

I have more to say on this in my most recent column on PJ Media, which you can read here.  And for those interested in learning about the early moments of the riots, I described them two years ago in this piece, also at PJ Media.

Tonight was the annual White House Correspondents' Dinner. It's usually attended by the President, who gives brief remarks, and a famous comedian provides entertainment. Sometimes this goes over better than others. In 2006, the entertainment -- Stephen Colbert -- was so hostile that many George W. Bush aides walked out. Various liberal groups loved it, of course.

So Jimmy Kimmel, host of Jimmy Kimmel Live, had the honors tonight and he was absolutely ruthless. Against everyone. But because it was the first time I'd ever seen anyone go after Democrats, I'm still somewhat in shock. I followed the jokes on Twitter as opposed to watching him deliver them, but he was brutal. Here's how Mediaite wrote it up:

Kimmel thanked the President for his appearance tonight, saying “salaam.”

“Mr. President, I know you won’t be able to laugh at any of my jokes about the Secret Service so cover your ears if that’s physically possible,” said Kimmel. “If this had happened on President [Bill] Clinton’s watch, you can damn well bet those Secret Service agents would have been disciplined with a very serious high five.”

Kimmel joked about the General Services Administration’s scandal, the President’s ability to compromise with the Republican party by conceding to their demands and White House advisor Peter Orszag.

Kimmel also joked about the journey the country has taken with Obama from 2008 to today and how so much has changed. “Mr. President, remember when the country rallied around you in hopes of a better tomorrow,” asked Kimmel. “That was hilarious.”

“There’s a term for President Obama. Probably not two,” said Kimmel. “Even some of your fellow Democrats think you’re a pushover Mr. President. They would like to see you stick to your guns. And if you don’t have any guns, they would like to see you ask [Attorney General] Eric Holder to get some for you. Jake Tapper wrote that.”

“They say diplomacy is a matter of carrots and sticks,” Kimmel said. “And since Mrs. Obama got to the White House, so is dinner.” Kimmel went on a tear about the President’s weight loss and how that reflects on the state of the nation. Targeting Michelle Obama, Kimmel said, “look, it’s [New Jersey Gov.] Chris Christie. Get him!”

Kimmel took aim at the Occupy Wall Street movement as well, saying “it took moths of hacky sack and patchouli oil but, finally, Wall Street isn’t greedy anymore.”

Kimmel mocked the recent scandal surrounding Hilary Rosen’s comments about Ann Romney, and White House Press Secretary Jay Carney’s response that he knew “three” Hilary Rosens. “Three Hilarys,” said Kimmel. “That sounds like Bill Clinton’s worst nightmare.”

He went after Rush Limbaugh, Bill O'Reilly, the Republican Party in general and Allan West. This is all to be expected of a typical comedian. But it was the other people he went after that I found most interesting:

Democrats, too, were the target of Kimmel’s jokes. “[Rep.] Nancy Pelosi believes in lipstick like she believes in government,” said Kimmel. “Too much is never enough.” He said that Jake Tapper wrote that joke as well.

Kimmel took aim at Keith Olbermann, too, saying “the thing about Keith is he is so likeable.” Kimmel continued, “Al Gore launched Current TV in 2005 and it took off like a North Korean rocket.”

And yes, within moments, Keith Olbermann sent out an angry tweet complaining. (And you should have seen how angry the liberals I follow on Twitter were -- they are simply unaccustomed to being ripped on like this in a high-profile manner.)

On a silly night where D.C. journalists embarrass themselves with their odd invitations to Hollywood celebrities, I'm a bit impressed. It takes precisely no courage to go after Rush Limbaugh. You might recall that a previous host at this event literally wished him dead. But it does take some courage to go after Obama, his failed administration, the scandals that the rest of the media are pretending don't exist, and the Democratic Party in general.

In the Washington Post, Thomas Mann and Norman Ornstein have just published a comprehensive attack on the Republican Party.  A sample:

We have been studying Washington politics and Congress for more than 40 years, and never have we seen them this dysfunctional. In our past writings, we have criticized both parties when we believed it was warranted. Today, however, we have no choice but to acknowledge that the core of the problem lies with the Republican Party.

The GOP has become an insurgent outlier in American politics. It is ideologically extreme; scornful of compromise; unmoved by conventional understanding of facts, evidence and science; and dismissive of the legitimacy of its political opposition....

On financial stabilization and economic recovery, on deficits and debt, on climate change and health-care reform, Republicans have been the force behind the widening ideological gaps and the strategic use of partisanship. In the presidential campaign and in Congress, GOP leaders have embraced fanciful policies on taxes and spending, kowtowing to their party’s most strident voices.

For decades, Mann (pictured on the left) and Ornstein (to the right), both attached to Washington think tanks, have passed themselves off as above-the-fray, utterly impartial, interested not in ideology but in getting things done.  Which is to say, of course, that they reflect, without the smallest flaw or distortion, the conventional wisdom of the mainstream media and the Democratic Party, both of which believe that ever-expanding government is simply the result of responsible governance.

Now here's what's interesting.  During the very period Mann and Ornstein deride, the supposed crackpot and marginal GOP has captured the House of Representatives in one of the biggest electoral swings in congressional history, picked up seven seats in the Senate, and chosen to nominate Mitt Romney, who, even though in many ways a remarkably weak candidate, nevertheless is already virtually even with the Democratic incumbent in national polls.

Mann and Ornstein don't have a problem with the GOP, in other words, they have a problem with the American people.  "Shut up, sit down, and let people like us run the country."  That's what Mann and Ornstein--and, again, the media and Democratic Party--have convinced themselves is the message, the responsible message, to carry into this election year.

Beautiful.  Just beautiful. 

Romney may yet win in a landslide.

Having humiliated myself below, I hereby attempt to prove that I am, sort of, mildly, hip--no matter how many posters EJ Hill may devise portraying me as hopeless (see comment #10).

To wit:

My pal, Ricochet member Ed Driscoll, just put up a fascinating interview with movie director Whit Stillman, a conservative, believe it or not, whose new film, Damsels in Distress, looks simply splendid.  Stillman, as I know, because I am, as I say, pretty hip, is the director of the superb indie hits of the Nineties, Metropolitan, Barcelona, and The Last Days of Disco.

For Ed Driscoll's interview with Whit Stillman, click here.

See?

A little more than a year ago, the United Nations compound in Mazar-i-Sharif, Afghanistan was raided and set ablaze by riots that were a visceral, if deadly and inappropriate, response to the burning of a Koran by an American "pastor." Two UN workers were beheaded, others were shot to death. The blood spilled by the rioters is on their hands but also on the hands of the pastor, that despite almost universal and bipartisan condemnation, proceeded to burn the Holy book of Islam, the Qu'ran.

Terry Jones is at it again. At 5PM Eastern, Jones has vowed to not only burn the Qu'ran but also images of the Prophet Mohammed. Jones claims to be fighting for the freedom of Youcef Nadarkhani, a Christian pastor in Iran sentenced to death for apostasy. Nadarkhani converted to Christianity as a child and led devotional services in his home, and with fellow Christians in Iran.

Nadarkhani's desire for religious freedom is courageous. Extremists in the Iranian government may find Jones' irresponsible and incendiary act as reason enough to carry out the death sentence given to Nadarkhani by the court in Gilan, Iran. Jones' threats to the Iranian government may hasten the death rather than prevent it. He knows this and chooses to disregard it.

Freedom and equality require reciprocity through calm, deliberative actions and speech. If Jones' extremism and seeming desire for fame proceed as scheduled this evening, any blood spilled will be on his hands as much as the extremists who commit the crimes. He will be partnering with those who commit heinous attacks on innocent civilians, and is in fact, embodying the evil he pretends to fight.

There are people of good conscience in every country, in every faith. To save lives we look first to fundamental rights, respecting sovereignty and the power of diplomacy and passionate advocacy. Nadarkhani deserves to live, be released from prison, rejoin his wife and sons, and practice his faith. That is a freedom Jones' enjoys, with no consequence beyond the public scorn and shame he earns by jeopardizing a man of faith.

And of course the blood of each innocent person who dies when he incites a riot.

My wife pointed me to this interesting to and fro between HHS Secretary Kathleen Sebelius and Congressman Trey Gowdy (R, SC). Mr. Gowdy is courteous but firm, and under his questioning Mrs. Sebelius discloses that she did not consult any Supreme Court ruling on religious liberty before handing down her mandate. 

All in all, it's an incredibly embarrassing performance for a woman who served as a governor and whose husband is a federal magistrate judge. The video captures her irritation as well as her helplessness before some basic questions.

"Jumping the shark" is a term that never made any sense to me.  It's used to indicate the moment when someone has gone too far--when Newt Gingrich began attacking Romney's days at Bain, for example, arguing, in effect, that Romney was too much of a capitalist, Newt  was said to have "jumped the shark."  But why?  What did sharks have to do with anything?  And what could it possibly mean to jump over one?

As it happens, I learned this very moment, the phrase dates back to that great figure of American television, the Fonz.

From an interview in the New York Times Magazine with Garry Marshall, the producer of "Happy Days":

Fred Fox Jr., who was the writer credited with the famous episode where Fonzie jumped the shark on “Happy Days,” said that the idea came from you.

Yes, it was my idea.

Considering the phrase’s fame, any regrets?

Well, it wasn’t good....We were stuck in Malibu making believe we were in Hawaii, and we had to do something a little special for Fonzie. So I said: “Jumping’s worked well for us. Let’s jump something maybe on water skis.” At the time we put it on, viewers didn’t throw rocks at it or send letters, but later some very clever guys said that’s when the show turned. So if it’s used about a show going down, fine. I got a word into the American vernacular.

Am I the last person here at Ricochet to have learned this?

P.S. Back during the Eighties, by the way, I met Henry Winkler, the actor who played the Fonz, on a studio backlot.  (Considering a show based in the White House, a studio flew a couple of us speechwriters out to Los Angeles for a day.  Nothing came of this, my one and only brush with the precarious industry in which Rob Long has somehow managed to thrive, although, as the hit show "The West Wing" would prove a decade later, it wasn't a bad idea.) 

Winkler couldn't have been nicer--and went so far as to say he was honored to meet someone who worked for President Reagan.  I waited a moment, studying his face for some sign of sarcasm or irony--we were in Hollywood after all.  None appeared, leading me to conclude that he was just as good a guy as he seemed.

In the matter of America's foreign policy going forward, what we wish to do, and what we are capable of doing are soon to become two different issues, given that we are adding $1 trillion-plus annually to an existing $16 trillion debt, and may have a rendezvouz with something like what Great Britain experienced in the late 1940s, when their vast WWII borrowing could not be sustained after 1945, given the country's decision to nationalize industry, socialize health care, and adopt a redistributive tax code and entitlement state, leaving America largely uncontested in  rebuilding the world. That choice was made in a world in which there was not yet a South Korea or Taiwanese exporting giant, Germany and Japan were flattened, Russia and China were ruined, and much of Western Europe was in disarray due to bombing and occupation. That the world would soon buy Hondas and Mercedes rather than Minis and Jaguars was not foreordained in 1946; and in our own case, there was no rule that said in 2012 Detroit had to look like Hiroshima in 1945 while contemporary Hiroshima resembled what Detroit used to be. 

Most of our interventions—Grenada, Panama, the Balkans, Libya, Iraq—were optional wars (Afghanistan was aimed at ending bases from which to repeat 9/11 like attacks), and thus any more like them may well be framed in terms of 'fight abroad or cut back on food stamps, Medicare, Obamacare, etc. at home.' Statesmen realign aims and responsibilities with exiting resources, and eventually cut back  on the former if they cannot expand the latter while explaining to the public the dilemmas involved. This administration, however, has not talked about the effect of gargantuan debt upon military activism, and I think has conceded by our ongoing lead from behind strategy that while we are not going to lessen our borrowing, we at least accept that the defense budget will not be funded as in past years. Small annual deficits, 5% GDP growth, and 5% unemployment, if only politically, allow foreign policy options that chronic $1 trillion deficits, 2% GDP growth, 8% plus unemployment do not. U.S. foreign policy and military stature are rapidly under this president becoming a question of math. All this raises the gorge the beast question: did Obama see positive developments in vastly expanding government spending by $5 trillion in just 3 years (with another $6 trillion scheduled by 2016) that eventually will mean higher taxes on the wealthy and a more quietist U.S. abroad?

I am open to the argument that "lunatic" is a word worth retiring. Still, I am not sure that the United States Senate is the best body to advance the case against it:

Sens. Kent Conrad (D-N.D.) and Mike Crapo (R-Idaho) on Wednesday introduced legislation that would remove all references to the word "lunatic" from federal law, a step they said is needed to reflect the country's modern understanding of mental-health conditions....

The word "lunatic" appears in at least one spot in the U.S. Code — in Title 1, Chapter 1, which covers rules of construction. Chapter 1 holds that when determining the meaning of any law, "the words 'insane' and 'insane person' and 'lunatic' shall include every idiot, lunatic, insane person, and person non compos mentis."

Rob Long doesn't like goat cheese. In fact, he dislikes it so much, he compares eating it to getting script notes from network executives. That's bad. 

“..an old, familiar image of this city as a den of racist white sports fans.”

That’s how The New York Times described Boston this morning. 

It’s just like them, isn’t it, to ask the question that no one is asking: What’s the most racist sports town? Because they love nothing more than to try to make a thing more than what it is. So the good people of greater Boston, painfully disappointed folks whose favorite hockey team just lost a heartbreaker, are called to answer for some crazy (probably anonymous) Tweeters who used racist language to describe the Washington Capitals' Joel Ward, the African-Canadian right winger (ahem) who scored the game-winning, series-winning goal in overtime the other night against the Bruins. The Capitals now advance to the second round of the Stanley Cup playoffs, where they will face the New York Rangers on Saturday afternoon. 

To the elite media, being angry or a little morose when your favorite team loses is too base to comprehend. I mean, what are we, Neanderthals? Interest rates on student loans are about to double, and you are angry about a stupid *game*? 

Unless, of course, Boston is a racist city. If Boston is a racist city, then it all makes sense.

Here’s what happened: The goalie for the Bruins is Tim Thomas, a self-identified Republican who opted out of the traditional White House visit last year after the Bruins won the Stanley Cup. This was not received well in Left world. When the black Ward beat the white Thomas with his goal, some Bruins fans in the Twitter-verse responded with vile language, including the use of a racial epithet. A sports blogger at The Nation instantly connected the dots and discovered that they revealed an ugly truth:

Tim Thomas is the player who created a sports media firestorm by refusing to join his team and meet with President Obama after the Bruins won the 2012 Stanley Cup. To be clear, I have zero problems with athletes refusing to be part of presidential photo ops, but his political reasons are not irrelevant to what caused last night’s spasm of hate. Thomas is a proud, financial supporter of the Tea Party. He counts Glenn Beck as a hero and once emblazoned the “Don’t Tread on Me” flag on his helmet. When asked by reporters why he wouldn't meet with Obama, Thomas didn’t comment and instead referred people to his Facebook page, which had a paragraph about “out of control Federal government.”

To see no connection between the Tea Party, Glenn Beck and the politics of racial resentment is to subscribe to either blind ignorance or political cowardice. (Even Beck, last December, inferred that racism in the Tea Party drives anti-Obama animus.)

And so this is how we arrive once again, via an unlikely route through the NHL, at the familiar charge that Tea Party and small government folks are motivated by racism against a black president. No point trying to twist your way out of this one, Boston.

Here’s the fun part. Watch for yourself the supposedly inferred racism of Beck’s comments. What you will find, in fact, is a distortion, peddled by Think Progress (way to link outside the bubble, Nation blogger) of what Beck is actually saying. He does NOT infer that Tea Party members are racist. What he does is actually pretty sophisticted (Nation blogger’s head explodes). Beck, in a flight of “what if” type questions, says that if the Tea Party supports Newt Gingrich (whom Beck thinks is a progressive, just like Obama) but opposes Obama, then the Tea Party needs to ask itself whether it is motivated by racism. That’s a far cry from what your friendly Nation sports blogger implies.

Anyway, back to Beantown. I was interested in learning about Boston sports’ tricky history with race. But what could that possibly have to do with the Capitals' victory over the Bruins? Did Tim Thomas himself use the “N” word after Joel Ward scored the goal against him? That would be news. Did someone on the Bruins, or representing the team, make a racist comment? Would also probably be a story. Did the fans chant racist things as they left the Garden? Front pager.

But, no. None of those things happened. To find the racism in this story, you need to begin looking for it in the tangled weeds of your own assumptions. This is where the liberal media is so good at what it does: Boston has a history of racism. A black guy scored a goal. The goalie is a white Tea Partier. The Tea Party is racist. Somebody on Twitter used the “N” word. Add it all up?

Boston is a racist town.

We got ourselves a story here fellas. Run it.  

Being 26--which is apparently the age the average American woman marries for the first time--I have a lot of virtual friends getting anxious about their love lives. The links they share are amusing.

One web article, "How to Ditch Happily-Ever-After and Build Your Own Romantic Narrative," attempts to explain why emancipated feminists still find themselves craving conventional romantic experiences.  Here's the conclusion: 

I’ve had enough experience with the traditional romantic narrative to know that the husband, kids, and picket fence scenario is not for me. But I still carry around this confusing emotional investment in these big romantic stories that have seemingly little application to how I actually want to live my life. Then, I read a study about what happens to your brain when you get drunk, and everything started to make a lot more sense. The study found that the higher a person’s blood alcohol level, the more conservative their thinking became—it didn't matter whether the drinker identified as liberal or conservative while sober. When drunk, their thought processes became streamlined—they reached for the simpler narrative, not the nuanced one. Related research has found that liberals start to think more like conservatives at times when they're particularly distracted or overwhelmed. The same can be said for our romantic thinking. These big universal tropes catch hold of us when we get stressed, tired, sick, older.

Ah, yes.  The desire to be loved in a secure and stable way is just a nasty vestigial instinct that creeps up on us when we let our guard down.  Like being conservative--it's for the drunk and confused. 

Even for the New York Times, this is a little odd.  Yesterday, in a house editorial, the paper alerted its readers of the latest outrage: "Now Mitt Romney has made [Robert] Bork a chairman of his Justice Advisory Committee."

Now?  This was announced in August of last year. Don't bother suffering through the editorial,  as there is absolutely nothing new to justify the grey lady's decision to react eight months after the fact.  It's a boilerplate attack on Bork -- the only amusing part is the paper's disgust at Bork position that "except when the Constitution expressly says otherwise, the court must defer to the will of the majority."  That, of course, is exactly what the NYT and the President have been saying about Obamacare.

So what gives?  Did the editorial board just decide that they didn't have any new smears that day, so they dredged up the old press release?