Newspapers

Highly amusing leader in the Guardian today: Flying has become a modern middle-class hypocrisy, a source of guilt and pleasure all at the same time. Everyone is confused. OK, if you say so… It is easy to preach about the need to restrict air travel but harder to do anything about it. Er, what need? Government support for a new third runway at the [Heathrow] airport also suggests that it does not plan to stop people travelling. For shame! And so on and so on. As I say, the whole thing is a spiffing example of the paper’s po-faced, yoghurt-knitting fretting over something that should, naturally, be celebrated: freedom. [Hat-tip:

Ezra says this New York Post headline – ‘Whore-ible Ordeal: Dad – demonstrates that – shockingly! – the NYP “isn’t a very classy newspaper”. And thank god for that. There are enough humour-free newspapers in America already without needing to scold the Post for daring to make it’s readers laugh in fine, classical tabloid fashion. Sex scandals are manna for the tabs and it’s encouraging – in this too tired and shabby world – to see that the Post is maintaining high standards in the coverage of these affairs.

If it weren’t for the redoubtable Mr Poulos I might have missed this, the best headline of the year. Congratulations to the Washington Post sub-editor who came up with it.

James Forsyth says it is “deeply comic” for Martin McGuiness to complain: “I am not a fan of East-Enders or Coronation Street but my wife and my children, particularly the girls, watch the programme. I am appalled at the drunkenness that is quite clear for everybody to see and all of that before the 9 o’clock watershed when children as young as 8, 9, 10 and 11 are watching. Now I regard that as irresponsible broadcasting and I think something should be done about it.” Now of course, James is right to point out that Mr McGuiness’s role in murdering countless civilians scarcely gives him the clout to act, in

In its way, this anecdote – culled from AN Wilson’s touching eulogy for the great Hugh Massingberd is a very telling illustration of how, regardless of technological changes, newspapers have got themselves into such a mess: Part of the secret of Hugh’s overwhelming charm was in his vulnerability. He played up the moments when he had been humiliated, and made jokes about them. But he also really did mind. Just when he thought the new obituaries page had got off to a flying start, a thrusting ‘exec’ on the Telegraph complained to him that there were too many heroic brigadiers with absurd nicknames, and moustachoied wing-commanders. ‘Why’, asked this person,

Reihan Salam, in characteristically excellent form, dismantles the New York Times’ lazy and baffling endorsement* of Hillary Clinton and, as a bonus, comes up with the best line I’ve read today: Clinton must sorely regret that she can’t use proxies to pointedly accuse Obama of fathering a black child — because, after all, he has two of them, and they are adorable. *As a veteran of comfy days writing editorials myself, might I also suggest that you could scarcely hope to find a better example than this of the stuffed-shirt pomposity that plagues the genre. The Times’ leader is simultaneously platitudinous, banal, witless and appallingly written. To wit, for instance:

Sad news. Hugh Massingberd, the man who did more to bring obituaries to life than anyone else, is dead. He qualifies as one of the great journalists of our age. My poor, old (not so old actually) and now dead Uncle David was one of his contributors and I recall answering the phone, aged 12 or so, during one of David’s rather extended stays at my parents’ house, to hear Mr Massingberd asking, politely, how the obituary of this or that not-yet-dead restaurateur*, wine merchant or horse trainer was progressing. “Fitfully” was the answer one learned to give, David being  incommunicado… And now the begetter is gone too. Sic transit

Good lord. further evidence that, despite improvements in recent years, Washington still has work to do. Today’s WaPo runs a piece noting that the free minds and free markets crowd at Reason are insidiously recruiting innocent young Washingtonians to the libertarian cult by, yup, throwing a couple of parties a month. The horror! To wit: Four minutes into Reason magazine’s monthly bash at the Big Hunt lounge, and every Libertarian-as-Bacchus fantasy you’ve entertained plays out before your widening eyes. Nick Gillespie, the leather-jacketed, Mama-said-you’re-dangerous editor of the political rag peers at you intently. “What do you need?” he asks. “Do you need a drink? A cigarette?” Favourite bit, however? This: