Roger Kimball

The day I ate a royal love letter

Our very own Roger Kimball made it possible. I am referring to The Last Alpha Male, the greatest book ever written except for the Bible, as a Greek critic by the name of Taki put it. It is written by yours truly and owes a lot to Harry Stein, himself a terrific writer, whose father happened to write a musical play by the name of Fiddler on the Roof. My problem was how to justify Don Giovanni behavior while married to a Penelope-like beauty. Roger put me in touch with Harry, who came to my rescue. Presto, the wars in Gaza and the Ukraine stopped overnight. Fighters put down their weapons and read about the last alpha male and his ladies. My spies tell me even the Donald asked for a copy thinking it was about him, but then threw it out as Air Force One took off from Palm Beach.

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Letters from Spectator readers, September 2024

The cunning of the Democrats’ lawfare Wow! A tour de force of snark! But wonderful for it. My late father-in-law would have said that instead of brushing his teeth in the morning, the author gets a file and sharpens his tongue. As depressing as this article is, it is likely an accurate assessment of what’s going on. Particularly the image of Trump and Biden essentially playing the roles of Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon in the Grumpy Old Men movies. Carry on, America. Down Under, we have our own problems, as well as being affected by yours, same as every other country. — David Gerber Tellingly prescient. The 800-pound gorilla the next generation will be forced to address will be unsustainable entitlement transfer payments.

Letters

Nancy Mace busted by the Capitol Hill fashion police

With her vote to oust Kevin McCarthy as speaker, Nancy Mace has made herself the pariah of the House. And after donning a red, Scarlet Letter-style “A” on her chest to reflect this as she headed into House GOP meetings this week, she caught the ire of the Capitol Hill Fashion Police too. One of her colleagues intimated the “A” must stand for “attention” — and lamented that “there wasn’t enough bling” on it and that “a light-up version would’ve been better.” In a Congress filled with all but literal skeletons, Mace stands out for her relative youth. One staffer had no problem with her choice of outfits this week.

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Out now: the August edition of The Spectator World

Hell hath no fury like the average American. As temperatures, tempers and crime stats rise, our August 2021 edition asks if Americans are angrier than they’ve ever been. Peter Wood examines the evolution of the right’s anger through the astute lyrics of country singer Toby Keith, from post-9/11 fury to the present despondency. Sohrab Ahmari considers the crime surge in American cities, which he claims is a consequence of anti-anti-crime policies pushed by progressives. Mary Eberstadt credits climbing crime rates to the floundering influence of fathers in American households.

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Brace yourselves for President Harris

Although the electors for the presidential election of 2020 do not cast their votes until December 14, and their votes are not certified — and hence the election is not officially ratified — until December 23, it is eminently possible that by the time you read this the world will know whether the election was won by Donald Trump or Joe Biden. That is emphatically not the case now, in mid-November. The media narrative would have you believe otherwise. According to the received script, Biden won on November 3, or at least in the wee hours of November 4, when mail-in ballots, tens of thousands of them, began appearing like manna from heaven.

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The accurate representation of the world

Roger Kimball, Spectator contributing editor, publisher of Encounter Books and editor of The New Criterion, was presented with the Thomas L. Phillips award at the TFAS Journalism Awards Dinner in Manhattan last week. Below is his acceptance speech. I am grateful to the Fund for American Studies for the singular honor of bestowing upon me the venerable Thomas L. Phillips Award. You will find a list of previous honorees in your program. To say that it is an impressive list would be to dally with frivolous litotes. It makes me blush to be among such company. Had the fates been more generous, one name that I feel sure would occupy a place on that escutcheon is that of Joseph Rago.

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