Peter Bergen and Paul Cruickshank have a new piece posted at Mother Jones claiming that “The Iraq Effect” has increased terrorism sevenfold worldwide.  It’s already been picked up by the HuffPo and will likely burble its way through the Left part of the blogosphere after making Memeorandum. As my first guest-posts here—“Are Terrorists Doritos?” and “Are Terrorists Doritos? (Part 2… Hey!)”—are on this very topic, it is worth briefly noting

me: “Mmm.  Delightfully peaty.  Excellent nose.  Hints of the sea, commingled with the vanilla nuttiness of charred oak.  Nice smooth finish… Exquisite!” glass of Laphroaig Scotch: “Thanks!” glass of Laphroaig Scotch: “And for what it’s worth, I really like your ass.”

This place could use a little love. From the blokes at 18 Doughty Street This Yankee thanks you, lads. 

Personally, I have no (philosophical) qualms with altering the comments of a troll whose sole purpose in posting here is to launch personal attacks against me or one of my commenters —though, since the blogosphere’s grown and I’ve become something of a high-profile site, I have taken to using brackets and italics, etc. (on those few occasions where I’ve altered a comment) to signal that I’ve done so. It wasn’t

The Rocky Mountain News editorial writers wax (quasi) libertarian in response to “threats by the federal Alcohol Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau to take legal action against Boston Red Sox pitcher Daisuke Matsuzaka because of a beer commercial he made in his native Japan”: It’s neither illegal, unusual nor at odds with baseball labor agreements for foreign players to sign commercial endorsements with alcohol distributors . . . so long

Though George Will is hardly a supporter of Bush’s grand adventure in Iraq, that hasn’t forced him into the Democratic Party’s Camp Craven, where principles are traded like penny stocks, and where overmaneuvering for short-term gains generally leads to long-term self-inflicted wounds. Which is why in his latest column he is able to articulate nicely what I’ve pointed out before is the anti-war Democrat’s uncanny ability to checkmate themselves—all without

It’s a good thing we have the AP, the news organization of choice for those who support our boys in uniform, to let us know when there’s a desperate need to be filled.  In this very sad story, they describe the plight of those poor misguided souls from small towns who, desperate to survive in the dog-eat-dog world that is this broken economy, swallow the tripe coming from BushCo and

Some celebrities, eh?  Whaddya gonna do.  Poor, crazy, mixed up kid.  I say we just give her some space to heal. Also:  PICTURES BELOW OF BRITNEY LEAVING MALIBU REHAB FACILITY TO FIND SOME SPACE TO HEAL!  (seriously, this time).

Dialectical materialism offered a weak substitute for transcendent belief. I’d start quoting, but I’d end up quoting most of it.  So just go read it, if you’re interested in this sort of thing. Yet another thing to do while in Cleveland.

If my sixth Pimm’s and ginger ale were a Lionel Richie song, it would be called, “Damn, That’s Some Tasty Limey Shit!”—and it would peak at number twenty-four on the Billboard Pop Charts.  Unless, of course, Diana Ross agreed to sing it as a duet—and a Brooke Shields lookalike flashed a bit of berry-brown nipple in the video.  Then, it’d be number one with a bullet, baby!