It’s just another day there:

For the offense of defending her aunt and other Ladies in White against taunts — “Putas,” etc. — Berenice was sliced up, with a knife, by the daughter of a state-security official. Berenice was sliced all over her body, basically. When she and her family went to seek justice — again, as I understand it — they were beaten. This is absolutely standard operating procedure in the Castros’ paradise.

For those who can bear it, an article is here, and a video (in Spanish) is here. I now await the usual mail from the American Left telling me that 15-year-old Berenice is a Batista stooge (that dictator having been removed from power in 1959, almost 40 years before Berenice was born).

A friend of mine in Miami, a Cuban exile, wrote me in particular despair. She said, “What can we do? What is the best way to stop this?” I don’t know. The Cuban people — like other peoples under totalitarian dictatorship — seem helpless before their persecutors. Most of the world is indifferent. Che Guevara’s face graces, or defaces, a billion T-shirts. Fidel Castro receives warmest treatment in American universities, and, personally, from many members of our political establishment (Congressman Rangel, Congressman Serrano, and so on).

People who admire Che and Fidel should be as vilified and ostracized as are Hitler admirers. That they are not is a cultural crime and tragedy.

It’s not the “gun culture,” it’s the thug culture. And in that regard, as Bryan Preston points out, Bob Costas is part of the problem.

…not coming of age:

…there’s an important difference between Apatow’s work and Dunham’s, and that is that Apatow tells and re-tells stories of growing up, while Dunham shows a group of women who stubbornly refuse to do so. Apatow shows characters learning the importance of responsibility and morality, while Dunham’s characters are largely devoid of the former and uninterested in the latter.

The show’s main character, played by Dunham herself, embodies all of this. In the first scene of the pilot, when her parents tell her they won’t be paying her bills any more, she loses it, and informs them that instead of pushing her out of the nest, they should be grateful she isn’t addicted to pills. Her friends are equally appalled by the prospect of a 24-year-old paying her own phone bills, and, for the most part, they’re equally reckless. For instance, in the second episode, one of them misses her abortion appointment because she’s busy having sex in a bar. And their romantic relationships — unsurprisingly — come in about every possible iteration of dysfunction.

…You can almost argue that Lena Dunham sees President Obama as the perfect surrogate for everything missing in her characters’ lives: He’s their gentle lover, supportive parent, and empathetic friend. He’s special. He won’t let them down. He’s Prince Charming. And that kind of defeats the purpose of feminism.

You’d think the feminist elevation of agency would result in women who take pride in being responsible for their own bodies. You’d hope that telling women that they can do whatever they want would imply that they’re responsible for what they do. You’d think serious feminists would argue that true empowerment is something you lay claim to, not something the federal government dispenses in all its benevolence. But for Dunham, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Because feminism was hijacked by the left back in the seventies, despite the fact that campus leftists were some of the biggest male chauvinist pigs around.