…between Juan Cole (who I hope goes to Yale soon, so he ceases damaging the reputation of my alma mater in Ann Arbor) and Christopher Hitchens continues. One of the Iranian readers at Winds of Change says that Professor Cole’s Farsi isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And Iowahawk has hacked Juan’s outbox, and found a first draft of one of his emails to Hitchens. As Joe points out, it’s difficult to parody the professor, since he does such a good job of it himself, but Mr. Burge manages it.

Instapundit has an interesting roundup of links and discussion about the notion of the morality of allowing the Saudi and Iranian governments to control their oil, and the hypocrisy of the left in defending their right to do so.

Here’s a long, but vital essay by George Weigel:

Earlier this year, five days short of the second anniversary of the Madrid bombings, the Zapatero government, which had already legalized marriage between and adoption by same-sex partners and sought to restrict religious education in Spanish schools, announced that the words

Christopher Hitchens takes Professor Cole to school on what Persian words mean:

In some ways, the continuing row over his call for the complete destruction of Israel must baffle Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

I have to say, that this is a brilliant opening line of the article. Hitchens has a way of finding the key truth that eludes most of us, but once stated, is stupefyingly obvious.

Christopher Hitchens takes Professor Cole to school on what Persian words mean:

In some ways, the continuing row over his call for the complete destruction of Israel must baffle Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

I have to say, that this is a brilliant opening line of the article. Hitchens has a way of finding the key truth that eludes most of us, but once stated, is stupefyingly obvious.

Christopher Hitchens takes Professor Cole to school on what Persian words mean:

In some ways, the continuing row over his call for the complete destruction of Israel must baffle Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad.

I have to say, that this is a brilliant opening line of the article. Hitchens has a way of finding the key truth that eludes most of us, but once stated, is stupefyingly obvious.

Watching United 93, Gerard Vanderleun remembers the other heros of that day:

Far away on that day, far from the pillar of flame and plume of ash at the foot of the island, there was another fire in a field in Pennsylvania. Those nearby felt the shudder in the earth and saw the smoke, but it would be some days before we understood what it was, and longer still until we began to know what it meant.

The film I saw by myself tonight expands that meaning and brings a human face to the acts by the passengers of United 93 that endure only in that rare atmosphere that heroes inhabit. What I know in my heart, but what always escapes my understanding until something like this film renews it, is that heroism is a virtue that most often appears among us not descending from some mythic pantheon, but rising up out of the ordinary earth and ordinary hearts when the moment calls for actions extraordinary.

I saw this ordinary courage in New York on that day as I learned of the police and the firemen who had gone up the stairs to save others’ lives. That they, in their hundreds, had gone up when all others were fleeing down is an image that can never be erased from my memory. Time fades all impressions as surely as it faded the faces of the missing on the walls of my city, but let’s, just for now, remember it it once again, for it we fail to remember and sustain the memories of our heroes, we are surely done as a nation and a people.

Watching United 93, Gerard Vanderleun remembers the other heros of that day:

Far away on that day, far from the pillar of flame and plume of ash at the foot of the island, there was another fire in a field in Pennsylvania. Those nearby felt the shudder in the earth and saw the smoke, but it would be some days before we understood what it was, and longer still until we began to know what it meant.

The film I saw by myself tonight expands that meaning and brings a human face to the acts by the passengers of United 93 that endure only in that rare atmosphere that heroes inhabit. What I know in my heart, but what always escapes my understanding until something like this film renews it, is that heroism is a virtue that most often appears among us not descending from some mythic pantheon, but rising up out of the ordinary earth and ordinary hearts when the moment calls for actions extraordinary.

I saw this ordinary courage in New York on that day as I learned of the police and the firemen who had gone up the stairs to save others’ lives. That they, in their hundreds, had gone up when all others were fleeing down is an image that can never be erased from my memory. Time fades all impressions as surely as it faded the faces of the missing on the walls of my city, but let’s, just for now, remember it it once again, for it we fail to remember and sustain the memories of our heroes, we are surely done as a nation and a people.

Watching United 93, Gerard Vanderleun remembers the other heros of that day:

Far away on that day, far from the pillar of flame and plume of ash at the foot of the island, there was another fire in a field in Pennsylvania. Those nearby felt the shudder in the earth and saw the smoke, but it would be some days before we understood what it was, and longer still until we began to know what it meant.

The film I saw by myself tonight expands that meaning and brings a human face to the acts by the passengers of United 93 that endure only in that rare atmosphere that heroes inhabit. What I know in my heart, but what always escapes my understanding until something like this film renews it, is that heroism is a virtue that most often appears among us not descending from some mythic pantheon, but rising up out of the ordinary earth and ordinary hearts when the moment calls for actions extraordinary.

I saw this ordinary courage in New York on that day as I learned of the police and the firemen who had gone up the stairs to save others’ lives. That they, in their hundreds, had gone up when all others were fleeing down is an image that can never be erased from my memory. Time fades all impressions as surely as it faded the faces of the missing on the walls of my city, but let’s, just for now, remember it it once again, for it we fail to remember and sustain the memories of our heroes, we are surely done as a nation and a people.

Michael Totten describes a visit to northern Israel, at the Lebanese border: