Think Republicans will lose the House, Senate and presidency in 2020? Dream on
The Trump campaign is a well-oiled machine, and a large part of the lubricant comes with a dollar sign attached
Roger Kimball is a US columnist for The Spectator, the publisher of Encounter Books and the editor and publisher of the New Criterion.
The Trump campaign is a well-oiled machine, and a large part of the lubricant comes with a dollar sign attached
Do the Democrats have a death wish?
They hope that talk of impeachment will buzz about Trump’s head like a cloud of horse flies
Compare the anodyne narrative of the transcript to the mad impeachment hysteria that has addled the brains of the anti-Trump sorority in the Democratic party
Another week, another pseudo-scandal
We should call things by their real names
A reluctance to speak the truth instills an unwillingness or even inability to see the truth
Shame, shame on The New York Times and its sweaty minions for abetting the revival of this grotesque calumny
The latest irony in the spread of ‘cancel culture’ comes courtesy of The New Yorker
The French president is addicted to the ecstasy of gratuitous self-righteousness
The reflexive reaction to David Koch’s death has overlooked the true nature of his philanthropy
Anthony Scaramucci is a slightly preposterous footnote to the spectacle that is the Trump presidency
When in doubt, start shouting about racism and watch your opponents wilt and wither
The insuperable obstacle the candidates faced was the stunning success of Donald Trump’s first three years
I almost felt sorry for the former special counsel
Does Donald Trump’s habit of tweaking the commentariat mean he must be impeached?
Serious people in Britain should focus their attention on discovering the person or persons who leaked the cables
The deep currents of enlightened self-interest have for more than two centuries brought the US and UK together
‘Does she know about a thing called money?’, said my 11-year-old daughter
From our UK edition
New York The great ceremonial game of poll dancing is gearing up for its quadrennial orgy. Headlines across the fruited plain bark out numbers and percentages in mystic confabulation. Votaries sway back and forth as the modern magi of the press repeat the results of this contemporary incarnation of taking the auspices. Was any medieval