"He instinctively can find the shining greatness of our American culture and does a good job of highlighting it (although he also does have those rare lapses when he writes about hockey, but that is something caused by impurities in the Eastern waters or something)." Erik Keilholtz
Under the patronage of St. Tammany
Mark C. N. Sullivan is an editor at a Massachusetts university. He is married and the father of three children. Email
A toast: to the memory of my Uncle Aubin, first Acadian premier of a Canadian province.
My mother's father was from Prince Edward Island, where his family traced its roots to the first Acadian settlers in 1720. His sister was married to Aubin Arsenault, whom I had the pleasure of meeting when I was very young and he was very old, during the summer of Expo '67. My own children can say they are related to two American presidents on their mother's side, and to a premier of Prince Edward Island on their father's.
Today marks the 250th anniversary of the Acadians' exile from Nova Scotia and New Brunswick. When the English came to round up the Acadians in Prince Edward Island in 1758, my mother's forbears are said to have hid in the woods and thus escaped deportation. Years later, Uncle Aubin was one of the first Acadians from the Maritimes to pay an official visit to the Acadians (or Cajuns) of Louisiana.
But Mitt Romney, when all's said and done, keeps coming down on the right side.
Remarkable that in Massachusetts it has taken a Mormon governor from a minority party to step into the breach and eloquently present the arguments that a Catholic politician – at least one Catholic politician, in a state dominated by them – once would have been expected to make.
This Atlantic Monthlyprofile doesn't hurt Romney's chances.
Not surprisingly, Romney's positioning is drawing criticism.
The white-bread Mitt is hard to hate (though some are resolved to do so) and it'll be interesting to see what Mitt caricature surfaces as a meme on the Left. Is Bob Dobbs sinister enough?
"HOW DREADFUL are the curses which Mohammedanism lays on its votaries! Besides the fanatical frenzy, which is as dangerous in a man as hydrophobia in a dog, there is this fearful fatalistic apathy. The effects are apparent in many countries. Improvident habits, slovenly systems of agriculture, sluggish methods of commerce, and insecurity of property exist wherever the followers of the Prophet rule or live. A degraded sensualism deprives this life of its grace and refinement; the next of its dignity and sanctity. The fact that in Mohammedan law every woman must belong to some man as his absolute property – either as a child, a wife, or a concubine – must delay the final extinction of slavery until the faith of Islam has ceased to be a great power among men.
Individual Moslems may show splendid qualities. Thousands become the brave and loyal soldiers of the Queen; all know how to die; but the influence of the religion paralyses the social development of those who follow it. No stronger retrograde force exists in the world. Far from being moribund, Mohammedanism is a militant and proselytizing faith. It has already spread throughout Central Africa, raising fearless warriors at every step; and were it not that Christianity is sheltered in the strong arms of science – the science against which it had vainly struggled – the civilisation of modern Europe might fall, as fell the civilisation of ancient Rome."
The British-based society's principles: that liberal democracy should be spread across the world; that as the world’s most powerful democracies, the United States and the European Union – under British leadership – must shape the world more actively by intervention and example; that such leadership requires political will, a commitment to universal human rights and the maintenance of a strong military with global expeditionary reach; and that too few of our leaders in Britain and the rest of Europe today are ready to play a role in the world that matches our strength and responsibilities.
Not many remain to do so in the Democratic Party here.
A query to readers: Is it possible for the DINO to survive in the Democratic Party? Should the DINO still try? Is there a place for the ancestral Democrat who upholds the FDR-Truman-JFK-Scoop Jackson tradition; who regards America as a force for good that should defend and promote democracy around the world; who empathizes with average Americans, and would call on them to sacrifice in the name of a great shared cause? Or is extinction the DINO's inevitable fate?
People who are planning to blow themselves up and to murder in the name of a mediaeval vision cannot be reached by argument. They have put themselves beyond it. As a society, our first priority must be to catch them and lock them up so that they cannot do further damage…
Everyone in Britain, of whatever religion, should be proud of the tolerant society that we now have. But it is a precious and fragile heritage, and it will not survive if it is taken for granted.
The problem today is not immigration per se; it is the fact that a pernicious ideology has been allowed to infiltrate Europe's immigrant communities. And that has happened because we have blindly allowed our country to be a haven for fanatics.
Couplet I Allons enfants de la Patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé! Contre nous de la tyrannie, L'étendard sanglant est levé, (bis) Entendez-vous dans les campagnes Mugir ces féroces soldats? Ils viennent jusque dans vos bras Egorger vos fils et vos compagnes!
Refrain Aux armes, citoyens, Formez vos batallions, Marchons, marchons! Qu'un sang impur Abreuve nos sillons!
Couplet II Que veut cette horde d'esclaves De traîtres, de rois conjurés? Pour qui ces ignobles entraves Ces fers dès longtemps préparés? (bis) Français, pour nous, ah! quel outrage Quels transports il doit exciter? C'est nous qu'on ose méditer De rendre à l'antique esclavage!
Couplet III Quoi ces cohortes étrangères! Feraient la loi dans nos foyers! Quoi ! ces phalanges mercenaires Terrasseraient nos fils guerriers! (bis) Grand Dieu ! par des mains enchaînées Nos fronts sous le joug se ploieraient De vils despotes deviendraient Les maîtres des destinées.
Couplet IV Tremblez, tyrans et vous perfides L'opprobre de tous les partis Tremblez ! vos projets parricides Vont enfin recevoir leurs prix! (bis) Tout est soldat pour vous combattre S'ils tombent, nos jeunes héros La France en produit de nouveaux, Contre vous tout prêts à se battre
Couplet V Français, en guerriers magnanimes Portez ou retenez vos coups! Épargnez ces tristes victimes A regret s'armant contre nous (bis) Mais ces despotes sanguinaires, Mais ces complices de Bouillé Tous ces tigres qui, sans pitié Déchirent le sein de leur mère!
Couplet VI Amour sacré de la Patrie, Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs Liberté, Liberté chérie, Combats avec tes défenseurs! (bis) Sous nos drapeaux que la victoire Accoure à tes mâles accents, Que tes ennemis expirants Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire!
Couplet VII Nous entrerons dans la carrière Quand nos aînés n'y seront plus, Nous y trouverons leur poussière Et la trace de leurs vertus (bis) Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre Que de partager leur cercueil, Nous aurons le sublime orgueil De les venger ou de les suivre!
Verse I Arise children of our fatherland, [For] the day of glory has arrived! Against us, tyranny, Has raised its bloody flag, Do you hear in the fields The howling of these fearsome soldiers? They are coming into your midst To slit the throats of your sons and wives!
Chorus To arms, citizens! Form your battalions! March, march! Let impure blood Soak the furrows [of our fields]
Verse II What does this horde of slaves want, Of traitors and conspiratorial kings? For whom these vile chains These long-prepared irons? Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage What methods must be taken? It is us they dare plan To return to the old slavery!
Verse III What! These foreign cohorts! They would make laws in our courts! What! These mercenary phalanxes Would cut down our warrior sons Good Lord! By chained hands Our brow would yield under the yoke The vile despots would have themselves be The masters of destiny
Verse IV Tremble, tyrants and traitors The shame of all good men Tremble! Your parricidal schemes Will receive their just reward Against you we are all soldiers If they fall, our young heroes France will bear new ones Ready to join the fight against you
Verse V Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors Bear or hold back your blows Spare these sad victims That they regret taking up arms against us But not these bloody despots These accomplices of Bouillé All these tigers who mercilessly Ripped out their mothers' wombs
Verse VI Sacred patriotic love Lead [and] support our avenging arms Liberty, cherished liberty Fight [back] with your defenders Under our flags, let victory Hurry to your manly tone So that your enemies, in their last breath [before death] See your triumph and our glory!
Verse VII We shall enter into the excavation When our elders will no longer be there There we shall find their ashes [lit. dust] And the mark of their virtues [We are] Much less jealous of surviving them Than of sharing their coffins [For] We shall have the sublime pride Of avenging or joining [lit. following] them
UPDATE: More on the bloody lyrics of "La Marseillaise," with a bit of Burke thrown in, from last year at Matthew Yglesias * The annual Bastille Day block party returns to Marlborough Street in Boston on Friday night * A reprise of last year's Lafayette Escadrille tribute
Monday, July 11, 2005
Ted Williams, 1941
Here's Ted Williamscrossing the plate after hitting the winning homer in the 1941 All Star Game at Detroit. If MLB gets its clips working, you can see footage of the Splendid Splinter hitting the fabled round-tripper in '41, and of Reggie Jackson, 30 years later, hitting one off the Tiger Stadium roof in the '71 Midsummer Classic.
Meantime, if tonight's Home Run Derby left you nostalgic for the original TV version from the late '50s, before the hype took over and $500 was some long green, you can see a clip of vintage Wally Post-vs-Dick Stuart by scrolling all the way to the bottom of this page at TV Party.
We must recognise that we have a great inheritance in our possession, which represents the prolonged achievement of the centuries; that there is not one of our simple uncounted rights today for which better men than we are have not died on the scaffold or the battlefield. We have not only a great treasure; we have a great cause. Are we taking every measure within our power to defend that cause?
I don't have to tell you that the one constant through all the years has been baseball. America has been erased like a blackboard, only to be rebuilt and then erased again. But baseball has marked time while America has rolled by like a procession of steamrollers. It is the same game that Moonlight Graham played in 1905. It is a living part of history, like calico dresses, stone crockery, and threshing crews eating at outdoor tables. It continually reminds us of what once was, like an Indian-head penny in a handful of new coins. WP Kinsella, Shoeless Joe
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HowaboutthoseNats? And what kind of baseball karma or mojo (or call it what you will) would be at stake in a Washington-White Sox World Series?
The peculiar logic of the name "Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim" informs Jeff Kallman's creative new method of keeping the big-league standings.
Bleak Mouse:Waugh was not a conservative; he was an arch-reactionary. He was not a profound thinker (though he had his moments); he was a bloody crank. To one who complained of his hypocrisy at being both a Catholic and a horrid person, he is said to have replied, "Think how much worse I'd be if I weren't Catholic." But I'd rather not…I loved Waugh when I was a young radical. I continued to love his works when I was a silly liberal. I don't admire his works now because I'm conservative, but because they are brilliant and quite funny.
"One of the most amusing afternoons I ever spent with Waugh began in the London Library. He took me around in a taxi to White's, which was only five minutes' walk on foot, and ordered a bottle of champagne in the bar. To the barman, he said, 'I'd like you to produce a really nourishing sandwich for my friend. He's an author, but not successful like I am, and he looks rather underfed.'
"We took a specially chartered limousine to Paddington where he missed his train. Back to White's where Waugh ordered another bottle of champagne. He asked me to come down to spend the night with him in the country, but I never accept that kind of invitation after the second bottle of champagne. I did, however, again drive with him to Paddington. 'How do you propose,' he asked, 'to go back to the slum in which you live?' I replied that I'd take the Underground. 'No, my friend,' said Waugh. 'You shall go back in my car. This is a day in fairyland for you.'"
Helprin is a classicist. He believes in history, tradition, and eternal verities. He values aesthetic symmetries and the literary forms the centuries have passed down to us. To Helprin, the principles of modernism are fatal to art, and he has no truck with the avant-garde. “The avant-garde are frauds,” he bluntly declares. “Modern literature is all cool and detached, even though a lot of modern writers are passionate about their politics. To me, passion should be for literature, and reason and detachment for politics.
“A lot of people hate heroes,” he continues. “I was criticized for portraying people who are brave, honest, loving, intelligent. That was called weak and sentimental. People who dismiss all real emotion as sentimentality are cowards. They’re afraid to commit themselves, and so they remain ‘cool’ for the rest of their lives, until they’re dead—then they’re really cool.” #