Daily Blague

¶ The Poorman rakes up the follies of The National Review. Andrew isn't the nicest guy in the world, but that's just as well, for he's a born satirist. Ideology is always laughable, but satire's magnifications (in the guise of distortions and exaggerations) are always handy, because they show why ideology is laughable.

¶ Here's a page by P D James on murder by secret poison - a necessarily lost art. What is Baroness James's secret? She writes so knowledgeably about murder and yet is so pitiless about murderers. That is, she seems to know all about murder's motivations, but remains a pillar of rectitude. Perhaps there's a fold of repression that keeps the spring in her writing set to just the right tension.

¶ Be the first on your block... to exploit a novel use of GPS. My, but isn't it curious that men's briefs and boxers are not on offer?

¶ According to Ms NOLA, The Washingtonienne is not a good book, and she hasn't seen it in any of the stores. (One of the things that she brings to her new job is an alertness about book placement.) This excerpt may suggest why. (kottke. org)

¶ My daughter Ms G just got back from Houston, where in between family visits she saw the new (or recent) light rail trains. She had been following them for a while on the Internet, ever since encountering a write-up of the problems that Houston's METRO is having fending off automobile attacks. Are Houston's drivers really that bad? Or are they waging guerilla war on behalf of John Gaver, who upon his subtly subtitled "Keep Right" Web page blames the trains.