Should you want to tear down a conservative woman at the next cocktail party, here are the steps. The first step is to argue that the woman does not believe what she claims; she’s just a “submissive little doll of the White Male Hierarchy. . . .” That’s classy.

Can’t think of anything else to write about today. I’m unqualified to say more about the anniversary, and any other subject seems inappropriate.

I’d gotten messages to fly the flag today, but it was raining, and I subscribe to old fashioned Flag Etiquette, which says don’t put it out in the rain.

I probably won’t be posting here tomorrow, since I’m leaving in the afternoon for Walker, Minnesota. I mean, they name a town after me, the least I can do is go and visit.

Actually, it’s their annual Ethnic Festival. Come by if you’re in the area. I’ll be in the Viking encampment by City Hall.

This poem is a bit humanistic, but it strikes a resonate chord for today. The men we remember today were some of those good men we hear about often, the good men who did something in order to keep evil men from prevailing. This is “The Hero,” by Sir Henry Taylor.

What makes a hero?—not success, not fame,

Inebriate merchants, and the loud acclaim

Of glutted Avarice,—caps toss’d up in air,

Or pen of journalist with flourish fair;

Bells peal’d, stars, ribbons, and a titular name—

These, though his rightful tribute, he can spare;

His rightful tribute, not his end or aim,

Or true reward; for never yet did these

Refresh the soul, or set the heart at ease.

What makes a hero?—An heroic mind,

Express’d in action, in endurance prov’d.

And if there be preeminence of right,

Deriv’d through pain well suffer’d, to the height

Of rank heroic, ’t is to bear unmov’d,

Not toil, not risk, not rage of sea or wind,

Not the brute fury of barbarians blind,

But worse—ingratitude and poisonous darts,

Launch’d by the country he had serv’d and lov’d:

This, with a free, unclouded spirit pure,

This, in the strength of silence to endure,

A dignity to noble deeds imparts

Beyond the gauds and trappings of renown;

This is the hero’s complement and crown;

This miss’d, one struggle had been wanting still,

One glorious triumph of the heroic will,

One self-approval in his heart of hearts.

Today I’m thinking about people standing at the edge of a void, weeping in terror, a raging fire at their backs.

I’m thinking of those lonely, lonely falls.

I’m thinking of passengers on planes, calming their children, and calling loved ones on their cell phones to say goodbye.

I’m thinking of “Let’s roll.”

Never forget. Never forget.

The Italians, according to this Daily Telegraph article, and growing upset about the number of “ugly” English words worming their way into their language.

You know what? I’m OK with that. My view is that pretty much anything that perpetuates traditional cultural divisions is probably a good thing in our strange times.

With exceptions, of course.

Hat tip: Mirabilis

Anthony Esolen over at Touchstone Magazine Blog offers what seems to me a splendid meditation on the loss of “B” movies (and a lot of other very decent “B” art) in today’s culture.

Today is primary day in Minnesota, and I exercised my immense personal political clout by voting. The previous statement contains 35% less irony today, because there weren’t a lot of voters out (the counter on the machine at my voting place said [at about 4:45 p.m.] that they’d gotten 631 voters so far).

In the general election, especially in a year like this, I might be tempted to consider my vote a molecule in a bucket. But today I wielded considerable (relative) influence.

There was a certain amount of agitation, among Republicans, to cross over to the Democrat column and vote for the woman who’s challenging Al Franken in the Senate race. I did not do this. Not only do I object to the tactic on principle (as I’ve said here before), but I’m very happy to have Norm Coleman running against Al Franken. If he can’t beat Al Franken, he might as well resign now and become a blogger. Or a consultant. Or a consultant to bloggers.

I take particular interest in the judicial elections, because the whole judicial election system in Minnesota is a mystery hidden within a scam. I think the law requiring a candidate for a judgeship not to reveal any opinion he may hold has been loosened up a bit, but it’s still pretty hard to figure out how most of the candidates intend to interpret the law, based on their campaign statements.

There are hints, though, if you take time to deconstruct their campaign web sites. One tip, for instance, is if they state very strongly that politics should have no part in the selection of judges.

I’m pretty sure that’s code for “I’m going to make the law up as I go along, and I know you probably won’t vote for me if I tell you that.”

So the first week of classes at our school has ended.

I wonder how many of the first year kids are experiencing homesickness.

A lot more of them than I imagine, probably. I should make an effort to be especially gentle in my interactions.

Probably won’t, knowing me.

Even I experienced homesickness, my freshman year at college. That’s amazing, when I think of it. My home was purgatory. College—even a small conservative college with a lot of rules—was the most delicious freedom (both freedom of movement and freedom from fear) that I’d ever experienced.

Nevertheless I’d lived in one house all my life up till then. The longest I’d spent away from home had been a few week-long vacations. The separation was like a genuine wound, and it took a little healing.

How oddly we are made, we human beings.

College was really the best time of my life. I got involved with a musical group, five guys (sometimes more) with whom I could talk about anything, whose loyalty and friendship wasn’t in question. They valued my gifts and accepted me for who I was.

And yet today, I almost never think about those years. I think a lot about my childhood, which was awful, but I don’t think about the good years that followed.

I think I know why, but I won’t bore you with the reasons.

Have a good weekend. If you’re a college freshman, trust me. You’ll get over it.

And if you’re a student at our school, you’ll also get over your cold.

The one I caught.

Sure, sure I’m happy about Sarah Palin’s success with her nomination acceptance speech last night. Up till then we weren’t entirely sure what we were getting. We were afraid she couldn’t be all that was advertised. Instead we suddenly found ourselves in an altered political universe, one where the party galaxy has a new sun at its center.

But frankly, I want more.

I was cautiously hopeful about the presidential election, before. Now I’ve moved up to guarded optimism. That’s still uncomfortable, though. I demand maximum comfort. I want more than optimism. I want a sure thing. I want to look down in contempt on my opponents. I want to be smug.

There are so many things I want.

I don’t want to have to work at my job. I want to coast, or stay home if I like, certain that I can’t be dislodged no matter what I do.

I don’t want to have to worry about money. I think I ought to live on a trust fund. A generous trust fund.

I don’t want to have to work at relationships. I think people ought to compete for my friendship, and I should be able to be rude to them or neglect them, knowing that they need me more than I need them.

I don’t want to have to exercise or watch my eating. I should be able to take a daily pill that will compensate for all my wrong choices.

I think I ought to have total security in all areas of life, from cradle to grave.

No, cancel that. I think I have a right to never die.

I guess what I’m saying is, in my heart I really want to be a Democrat.

Cal Thomas writes:

One female journalist said to me it makes a mockery out of the Republican Party’s family values platform. . . . Many in the media are now questioning whether Sarah Palin has allowed her career and a “lust for power” to interfere with her family responsibilities. This is laughable. These same people have promoted women who work 12-hour days and dump their preschool children in day care. . . . When news breaks that the daughter of a Republican political figure is pregnant out of wedlock, the media quickly return to our Puritan roots and seek to hold certain people (usually conservatives) to a moral standard that culture has abandoned.

Thomas’ article points out liberal media hypocrisy, which is both shocking and old hat simultaneously. I quote the above in order to air my simple explanation for this rationale. Tell me if you agree or where I’m wrong. The liberal press and many liberals out in the wild do not argue from a coherent philosophy. They have a desired outcome and use any argument to get there. That’s why they throw out crazy statements like this. Their conclusion is predetermined, that Palin is bad. Any argument that might remotely back that up is fair game for them.