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Millions of trucks, buses, taxis, and privately owned vehicles have been squeezed into narrowed streets. Months have been sliced from the lives of drivers and passengers; a drive from 30th Street to Central Park south is now five to 10 minutes longer-God knows how much longer it is if one begins in Greenwich Village. Access to nearby shops is more difficult, and neighborhood dogs, answering nature’s call, are terrified to venture toward the curb.
In fact millions of pedestrians, standing at crosswalks, have experienced real terror, exposed as they now are to the mercy and moderation of bicycle riders, people whose lawlessness and viciousness are a matter of record…
Not only are bicycles dangerous, they are as antiquated a form of transportation as the rickshaw. In no advanced city on earth will you find civilized people cycling to work. The urban cyclist is generally a crank, either profoundly antisocial or hopelessly narcissistic and following the strenuous life in hopes of achieving immortality or a legendary sex life. When you encounter him give him a wide berth and never turn your back on him….
Now, I will acknowledge a certain felicity of phrasing and tendency towards what some might call outrageous hyperbole that could lead one to believe that the author of this screed was attempting to be humorous. But then I looked closer at the byline, and saw that said author was R. Emmett Tyrrell, the founder of The American Spectator, one of the pillars of the modern right-wing propaganda establishment, and a name likely to be quite familiar to Salon readers who have been hanging around these parts for more than a decade.
But in case you weren’t around back then, the Arkansas Project, in which The American Spectator, funded by right-wing philanthropist/evil mastermind Richard Mellon Scaife, spent millions of dollars in a mostly futile effort to dig up dirt on Bill and Hillary Clinton’s pre-White House days, played a role in the national conversation somewhat analogous to that fulfilled by birthers today. In other words, rampant, unhinged conspiracy theorizing! Good times, good times.
Anyway, to learn that R. Emmett Tyrrell hates bicycles is an
epiphanycausing event that tempts me to believe that there is a
greater purpose to the universe than I am normally prepared to
contemplate. Maybe there is a god, and if so, she is laughing at
(November 17, 2009)
As the Prophet Obama flops around desperately on the beach, his popularity below 50 percent, his collectivist Democrats still spending madly, columnist Ruth Marcus dusts off adjectives once applied to President Jimmy Peanut and forgets that anile little scamp’s eventual doom:
If the dominant figure of the past decade was Bush, the dominant figure of this decade-and assuming he wins reelection-will be Barack Obama. That is trading up.
I’ve never believed that Obama’s election ushered in a magical
era of national harmony. But the president is thoughtful and
pragmatic. He may have too many priorities, but they are the right
ones. His first year in office has demonstrated a useful
combination of steadiness in pursuit of a goal and
flexibility-steadiness in pursuit of a goal and flexibility in the
means to achieve it.”
(December 23, 2009)
A man of faith in a godless age is hitting Americans where it hurts.
Mr. and Mrs. American Spectator Reader, let P.J. O’Rourke talk sense to your kids.
In Britain, defending your property can get you life.
The debacle of this president’s administration is both a cause and a symptom of the decline of American values. Unless Congress impeaches him, that decline will go on unchecked. An eminent jurist surveys the damage and assesses the chances for the recovery of our culture.
It won’t take long for conservatives to scratch this presidential wannabe off their 2008 scorecard.
The American Christmas, like the songs that celebrate it, makes room for everybody under the rainbow. Is that why so many people seem to be hostile to it?
Was the President done in by the economy, or by the politics of the economy?
H/T to National Review Online