Paul From Minneapolis

Monday, March 14, 2005

Stuff From The Past Week

This is the one where Daniel Schorr discusses W’s statements (“pre-war,” he says) that a free Iraq could be a beacon to the rest of the Middle East. Schorr says, “He may have been right.”

Maybe, maybe not. Hope so. The point is that Daniel Schorr, high priest of liberalism, frequently-rational variety, has conceded it’s a possibility. Isn’t that about the same as conceding that W actually had and has laudable realistic motives in this freedom talk? At least a little? The fact that it was even feasible: doesn't that remove quite a lot of circumstantial evidence that the freedom angle was purely a cover story?

I sure as heck think it does. Let me go check to see if Kos and crew have acknowledged this, taken back some stuff they’ve said and apologized good-naturedly. I’ll be right back. If I’m not back in an hour don’t come get me. It’ll be too late.

These two go together, the first being Eugene Volokh’s reference to the second, the Washington Monthly article. It concerns the long policy road that’s led us to where we are on the environment during the Bush administration.

The Monthly article is long but worth it. It’s a portrayal of chaotic policy-making and moral ambiguity. W’s image as a creature of pure devouring malevolence on the environment is underrated as one factor allowing the Loony Left (who are not as fun-loving as the name sounds) to reject him as a human being and call his policies demonic, making this a good topic.

Recent reprint of a 1920 article on Lincoln’s boyhood, based on interviews in 1909 and '09 with people who grew up with him. I think you need a subscription. For me, fascinating almost more because of the 1909 America it evokes. There are still people around, you know? People who remember this: and there, perched in a cranny of the hills, a log cabin overflowing with children. I stopped for dinner at one of these. There were the great stone fireplace, the hand-made hickory furniture, hand-woven baskets, and puncheon floors, all a reproduction, I suppose, of a typical English cabin of three hundred years ago; and there were archaic forms of speech which even in Shakespeare's day had disappeared from all but uncultured or primitive communities.

You don't need to go very far back to connect with ancientness. It can be comforting to remember that my great aunt could have known someone who knew Thomas Jefferson. In fact, maybe she did. She was pretty out of it by the time I rolled around.