May 13, 2013 | 32 comments
February 8, 2013 | 146 comments
January 21, 2013 | 26 comments
January 8, 2013 | 2 comments
December 10, 2012 | 51 comments
Chapter 9 of Mr. Tucker’s new novel 2065, which we are serializing, on China’s invasion of Pearl Harbor fifty years after Obama.
(Page 3 of 4)
IN SCHOOL, THE GIRLS were beginning to get interested in boys and say things that weren’t very friendly anymore. One day a big freckle-faced girl stopped her as she walked the halls after school and pushed her against the wall. “Let me see your nose a minute,” she said, pushing her thumb up against it without asking. “You have a very flat nose, don’t you?” she said, examining her like a doctor. “You see how I have a bump on my nose? You don’t have that, do you?”
Susan did not know how to respond but tried to pull away. “Your name isn’t really Susan, is it?” the girl persisted. “It’s really” — and she pulled her own face outward to give it a slant-eyed look — “Ching Chow Chong, isn’t it?”
Susan broke away and ran down the hall. “Ching Chow Chong,” the girl called after her. After that, she did not allow herself to be caught in the halls alone again.
As teenage years took their toll, Susan found herself desperately wanting to be like everyone else. Mandarin was forgotten. She began dressing more scantily and neglecting her studies, eager to spend time at the beach and be with the crowd. Whenever she disrobed, however, she was reminded of how much darker than the other girls she was. They would were more bronzed but hers was a tough, dark tan that never seemed to fade. She wondered if any boy would ever like her.
Then at the beginning of junior year a tall, wispy boy with blondish hair moved into town. He was shy and the other kids didn’t take much interest in him but Susan noticed him and it seemed he noticed her. One day they found themselves standing in the lunch line together.
“You’re new, aren’t you?” Susan asked.
“How did you know?” he answered, apparently amazed that anyone had noticed him.
“Oh, I keep track of things,” she said cheerfully. “My name’s Susan, what’s yours?”
The young man was strangely silent for a moment. “Steven,” he finally said.
“Did your family just move into town?” she asked innocuously.
“I don’t have a family,” said Steven.
After many lunches spent together, Susan finally heard the whole story. Steven was a “lost child,” a 17-year-old who had been abandoned by his family, members of a polygamous Mormon cult on the Arizona border. The group leader, a charismatic preacher who already had seven wives, had condemned Steven when he objected to the preacher taking his older sister as his eighth wife. Calling Steven the “spawn of the Devil,” the preacher had demanded Steven be expelled from the group. His family, devout followers, had dutifully complied. One an overcast afternoon in November, they had packed Steven a suitcase, driven him to a deserted spot in the countryside 50 miles from their home, put him out of the car and told him they would never see him again. A stranger had picked him up on the road and driven him to Denver. After living on the streets for six months Steven had finally been taken in by a halfway house in Boulder. They were trying to place him in a foster home. Meanwhile he was attending Boulder High School.
For once Susan felt like the insider. She guided him through American culture as if he were a visitor who had just arrived from outer space. He knew nothing of history, religion, or popular music. He didn’t know that there were comic books or that Catholics believed in Jesus Christ or that there was a President of the United States. When a foster home finally took him in, it was another Mormon family and they were not enthusiastic about Steven and Susan dating.
“Isn’t this all a little difficult?” her mother asked. “Wouldn’t it be better if you dated someone who was more like us?”
“But mom, he’s so sweet,” she said. “And I think he needs me.”
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?