This post by the New Donkey is worth reading because (1) It’s another hopeful sign for the Democratic party and (2) It’s a fun look at the liberal communitarian vs. libertarian debate.

Galley Friend E.W. sends along this link to a very special tournament.

One of the more subtle rewards of The Simpsons is watching carefully to see where the writers have inserted a bit of dialogue for the sole purpose of trying to pull one over on the network censors. The most famous example of this being Homer’s phone call to Bill Clinton from the episode when he became an astronaut. (“Hello, is this President Clinton? good. I figured if anyone knew where to get some tang it would be you.”)

Now Lisa de Moraes writes:

Earlier this year, PBS received a sharply worded letter from new Education Secretary Margaret Spellings for using some of her department’s Ready to Learn program funds on an episode of “Postcards From Buster” in which the title character, an animated rabbit, visits children in Vermont who are living with their two mothers. Spellings demanded that all mention of Buster’s clambake be stricken from the offending episode.

Conan would be proud.

The Apocalypse is nigh:

MTV: Would you ever want to remake a Monroe movie like “The Seven Year Itch” or “Some Like it Hot”

Paris Hilton: Yeah, there’s some talk.

Run. Cry. Hide. Be very afraid.

Galley Friend J.E. sends along a link to this story:

AL-JAZEERA RECRUITING BRITISH JOURNALISTS

Al-Jazeera, the controversial Arab all-news channel is offering top salaries to recruit British journalists for its English-language channel due to launch later this year, the London Sunday Observer reported. The news channel is creating a new newsroom in London, the newspaper said, and is likely to attract several of the more than 300 journalists that the BBC is expected to lay off as part of its current financial retrenchment.

How will we know the difference?

Soxblog is bothered by how gracious and classy the Yankees were yesterday:

. . . the Yanks were annoyingly classy. There was no reason they had to observe the entire ceremony, and their opting to do so reflected positively on the entire Yankee organization. In saner moments, I’ve admitted that Derek Jeter is a class act and that Joe Torre is one of the great sportsmen of our era. Thank god the Yankees have A-Rod and Steinbrenner. If not for them, the Yankees might actually be difficult to hate.

What soxblog doesn’t understand is that it is their wholesome good manners which makes this group of Yankees so insidious. Tom Boswell captured this terror back in a classic Washington Post column in March of 2000:

Some trends in society are so dangerous they must be nipped in the bud. Like the New York Yankees.

Remember, they did this before. Let them win a few pennants and you can never get rid of them. Generations later, fans are still asking, “Where was Congress?”

Sure, everybody thought it was so much fun when Babe Ruth came to the Yankees and helped them win the pennant in 1921, 1922 and 1923. Why, the Yanks even let the Washington Senators–already established as “first in war, first in peace and last in the American League”–go to the World Series in 1924 and 1925. What greater proof of civic-mindedness could there be?

Where was the danger? The Babe was about as threatening as El Duque. What’s not to like? Big guy, loves orphans, likes to eat. Same deal now. How do you root against a man who defected from Cuba in a fishing boat? Bernie Williams plays classical guitar. Derek Jeter loves his mom. Joe Torre rubs Don Zimmer’s head for luck. Paul O’Neill plays in the World Series on the day his dad dies.

It’s all a trick. The teamwork, the camaraderie, the compassion for Darryl Strawberry’s flawed humanity, the perfect unselfish baseball played with precision and pride. Don’t believe it for a second. I’ve been there. I’ve lived it. I know where all this “tolerate the Yankees” can lead. It’s a primrose path to perdition. . . .

Granted, these are difficult days for Yankee Hatred. We must force ourselves to look past the four superb starting pitchers, the immaculate closer Mariano Rivera and the 743 middle relievers who are all better than anybody the Orioles have.

It’s also brutal to watch as one potential Yankee controversy after another dissolves into geniality and disgusting bonhomie. Jeter wants a six-year contract. Settles for one year for $ 10 million. Raw deal, right, dude? Derek says, “No problem.” Rivera loses his arbitration case–and $ 2 million. Instead of being angry, he says he won his case last year. It evens out. Tino Martinez even okays a contingency that lets the Yankees dump him if they think he’s washed up. Hey, if that’s what’s best for the ballclub. . . .

Yes, this could be a long tough summer for hatred. At times, you’ll feel lonely. Total strangers will volunteer that Joe Torre is “such a teddy bear” and David Cone “is so witty and sophisticated.” Remind them to be wary. This is just the narrow end of the Yankee wedge. Give them an inch of respect and they’ll end up your favorite team. You’ll learn to love foul balls and four-hour games. “Oh, look, the Yankees are wearing out another starting pitcher. What bat control. They’re such artists.”

Fill your ears with wax. Tie yourself to the mast. Look away from the sirens. It always starts this way. But we all know how it ends. Someday, before you know it, you’ve gained 50 pounds, your IQ has been cut in half, you’ve got a 32-ounce beer in each hand, you’re sitting above the visitors bullpen in Yankee Stadium and, veins bulging, you’re screaming, “Red Sox stink.” Over and over ’til you pass out.

Never forget, it can happen to you. The price of liberty is eternal vigilance. Or something like that.

I bow down before the Bos.

I know that some readers may be suffering from papal overload, but Jody Bottum’s piece on John Paul II is amazing, beautiful stuff:

History labors–a worn machine, sick with torsion, ill-meshed–and every repair of an old fault ruptures something new. Or so it seems, much of the time. Our historical choices are limited, constrained by the poverty of what appears possible at any given moment. To be a good leader is, for most figures who walk the world’s stage, merely to pick the best among the available options–to push back where one can, to hold on to the good that remains, to resist a little the stream of history as it seems to flow toward its cataract.

For the past decade and a half, John Paul II was a good leader. He had his failures: losing the fight for recognition of Christianity in the European constitution, watching the democratic energy he generated during his 1998 visit to Cuba dissipate without much apparent damage to Castro’s dictatorship, seeing his efforts to influence China’s anti-religious regime peter out. But he had his successes as well: convincing even his bitterest opponents in the Church to join in at least the verbal rejection of abortion, regularizing Vatican relations with Israel to allow his millennial visit to the Holy Land, inspiring the defeat of the Mafia in Sicily.

With the drama of his final illness and death, he offered a lesson about the fullness, the arc, of human life. With the prophetic voice he used in his later writings, he pointed to spiritual possibilities that were being closed by what he once called the “disease of superficiality.” Always he was present,

one of the world’s conspicuous figures, pushing on history where he could, guiding the Church as much as it would be guided, choosing the best among the available options–doing all that a good leader should.

But before that–for over a decade at the beginning of his pontificate, from his installation as pope in 1978 through the final collapse of Soviet communism in 1991–John Paul II was something more, something different, something beyond mere possibility. He wasn’t simply a good leader. He was inspired, and he seemed to walk through walls. . . .

If you can believe it, it gets better from there.

I just came out of a breakfast with Redskins coach Joe Gibbs. For those who haven’t met the man in person, he is much taller and more physically fit than he appears to be on television. He is also downright personable and chatty. But what he is mostly is a devout Christian. He was asked to give a talk at the Metropolitan Club, and what he talked about was the importance of Scripture and playing “on God’s team.” I am sure there were those who didn’t expect this to be a deeply personal and religious conversation but it was nevertheless reassuring that the winner of three Super Bowl championship titles and owner of a highly successful NASCAR racing team is still firmly rooted to the ground.

Also in attendance was back-up quarterback Mark Brunell, another man well-connected to his faith. In person he is rather friendly and earnest. Asked about showing up to the coach’s “voluntary” practices, he said it was more than voluntary. Brunell also seemed taller than his stats suggest (6’1″) and leaner. I admit I felt bad for hating him for his performance last season. He’s a nice guy, I thought, but why did he have to be so bad last year?! Am I wrong to have hated him?! My conscience berated me.

Gibbs, incidentally, offered no comment regarding linebacker LaVar Arrington’s remarks in today’s Washington Post about not feeling the love from the coaching staff. (Gibbs actually said he didn’t want to know what LaVar said until after he’s had some breakfast in him.)