Spare me. Michelle Malkin patting some hack on the back for doing a search and replace on a few paragraphs from the of a George Orwell essay, doing the usual strip-the-context bait and switch, as if he has made some… Read More ›
Cut and pasted from a comment I left over at my LP post on bloggers joining political campaigns in the US (related to this Hoyden post from last week): Ha. The predicted conservative blogger meltdown about Amanda Marcotte joining the… Read More ›
Edited to add: yes, I know this is an utterly obnoxious post. Sometimes I just have those sort of days. Call me a meanyhead, but I can’t decide whether he’s more of a paranoid whiner or a clueless wanker. Neither… Read More ›
Father’s Rights Activist, that is. He’s commenting over at the old place, in a post from a few months ago where I referenced another blogger’s longer commentary:
Kevin T. Keith at Sufficient Scruples examines how fathers’ rights organisations attract pseudoscientists making up mental illnesses that their harpy ex-wives must be suffering from that both explain why they’re being difficult about visiting rights and why the courts should just
Germaine Greer has done her shit-stirring act again with her piece about the death of Steve Irwin, and the usual furore has broken loose, wherein Greer is presented as standing in for all us feminist harridans who hate manly men.
UPDATE: Tracee Hutchison’s piece in today’s Age is an excellent analysis of the essential misogyny driving a lot of the reaction to Greer’s piece – would the outrage have been such a howling uproar if Clive James had written it instead?
Peter MacCallum titles his review “A cruelty that extends to all within earshot” and opens with
First I need to be honest and say that I found Peter Goldsworthy and Richard Mills’s Batavia the vilest thing I have experienced in the theatre.
It’s an appallingly studied invectival tirade masquerading as a brutal-but-fair assessment. One is forced to wonder whether Messrs Goldsworthy and Mills ever tied MacCallum down and popped a ferret in his trousers, such is his spite.
The libretto of Batavia tells a tale of violence and brutal despair that is possibly unmatched even in the world of opera, but is that any excuse to cynically coopt the language of violence in order to produce hyperbole such as this?