It took a while, but they finally banned me from posting at National Review. It seems my accurate portrayal of the execrable Ramesh Ponnuru finally did it. I called him Rich Lowry’s house boy, which must have finally forced their hand. The fact that he is Rich Lowry’s house boy did not seem to matter. Ponnuru is a hack who gets paid because he is willing to lick the boots of whoever pays him. Lowry keeps him around mostly for color. If Ramesh were a white guy named Smith he would be waxing Lowry’s car, not writing for his magazine. But, that’s how it goes with the upper-middle class twits these days. It is all appearances and gestures. The fact that a clown shoe like Lowry is in charge of National Review shows how pointless it is to support these organizations. “All movements become a business and then a racket.” National Review is now just a money raising racket for upper-middle class mediocrities.

It will be interesting to see how long National Review stays afloat. Buckley bankrolled the thing as it never made money, even when it actually stood for something. The ridiculous twink in charge now has no money of his own and limited ability to raise it from rich donors. Maybe Buckley set things up before he croaked so they could carry on, but that never stops the next generation from screwing it up in time. Their recent fundraisers have been disasters, forcing them to extend their deadlines. The quality of the product has declined sharply. The only worthwhile writer in their shop is Kevin Williamson. As happened with Henry Luce, the subsequent generations sell out the work of the founder eventually. Time went from solid new magazine to a looney tunes liberal absurdity. National Review will probably look like The Nation in a few years.

It was fun trying to get banned.

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