Our guide’s name is Leap. He’s a squat Cambodian in his mid-fifties, leading us through the museum’s displays of military hardware and genocide kitsch. Leap’s right leg is a clomping wooden peg. The exposed skin on his arms is covered...
The Reactionary Blogosphere has exploded in an orgy of navel-gazing self-indulgence over the past week. I just can’t resist jumping in. Some of my regular readers, i.e those with small lives animated by narrow goals, will be uninterested in this...

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