So, my alleged friends at National Review Online have taken advantage of my nap to do some more creative shaving, have they? Maybe it’s time you all knew the truth about the juvenile delinquents at the Coroner.

First of all, NRO is literally a half step up from writing for your college newspaper. I mean, just look at the masthead. You’ve got me, a bunch of teenagers, a dried-up old child molester, and Michael Ledeen. Ledeen surfs ogrish.com for the photos of dead Arabs and runs off to the men’s room to nuke his whale.

All you have to do to get a job at NRO is exhibit the same sort of bigotry that made the National Review into America’s leading journal of conservative opinion.

And we all worship at the altar of George W. Bush. Who cares if GM and Delphi lay off 100,000 workers? Who cares about the budget deficit, or the trade deficit? Who cares if the environmentalists are right, and we’re causing global warming? Who care’s if the abortion rate went down under Clinton, and up under Bush? The president is THE MAN, and if I don’t say so in print, that juvenile delinquent Rich Lowry will fire me in a heartbeat.

Why? Because he’s a WAR PRESIDENT! Give me a break. If Bush had any Samurai spirit, he’d have cut his own belly about a dozen times by now.

If I might draw from ancient history to illustrate my point…

Wait. I’m not going to do that. As long as I’m throwing away my job at the National Review, I might as well do so honorably. The truth is, I’m a fraud. I know as much about Sherman’s march to the Sea as any yokel who’s ever seen Gone with the Wind.

When I engage in classical allusion, I try to pick the most obscure reference possible. It makes me seem far more well-read than I really am. Also, if someone who knows what he’s talking about challenges me, the pseudo-intellectual trust fund babies who read my garbage won’t know who to believe when I say that my challenger has his facts wrong. Because I say the things that self-flattering bigots like to hear, they tend to just trust me.

You know how I come up with all those obscure references? Check out this page. I don’t know which aspect of National Review is more pathetic, the writers, the readers, or our egomaniacal founder.

P.S.

April Fool! In reality, National Review is quite deservedly the finest magazine in America.

Rich, you said I’d have my job back if I attached the disclaimer.

You want what?

What the hell is a manshake?

This entry by V. D. Hansen was posted on Saturday, April 1st, 2006 at 11:23 pm and is filed under Wingnuttery. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.