Ah, the big, big day. ItÂ’s finally here. After waiting longer than a black guy at DennyÂ’s, we have finally see our preternatural patience pay off.

If you donÂ’t already know the news, dear reader, shame on you. Under what rock have you been living?

After all, today marks our resplendent three-year anniversary on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web. One serendipitous day in late March of 2004 (’04, we call it), we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” began this humble e-outfit. And the rest, as the women’s studies majors say, is herstory.

Oh, what a time it’s been. Just think of all the crazy high jinks we’ve pulled during our comparatively longish stint on the ole’ Internet. Just think of how many times we’ve used the words “high jinks.” It makes one positively misty-eyed, does it not?

Yeah, it’s been quite a run. We’ve unintelligently feuded with other unintelligent “webloggers.” We’ve strong-armed Glenn Reynolds into “linking” to our sordid musings. We’ve questioned the patriotism of tons and tons of our fellow Americans.

Heck, weÂ’ve even done our part to change our Christian-centric calendar: Instead of the disgracefully un-ecumenical markers BC and AD, weÂ’ve supported DBBNVSHL (The Days Before Bridget NewmanÂ’s Vagina Shaped Her Life) and DABNVSHL (The Days After Bridget NewmanÂ’s Vagina Shaped Her Life). A bit more longwinded, perhaps, but far less partisan.

And we’ve also stuck it to countless academic buffoons: Dana “Free Speech for Me But Not for Thee” Cloud and some weirdo called Medical Marijuana Barbie, to name but a few. Let’s not forget, furthermore, some of our less lasting ideas: A “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Official Advice Column, for instance. Perhaps we’ll have to restart that one.

Yes, sir: ItÂ’s been once gigantic slice of heaven with a dab of low-fat whipped cream. For good reason, then, our crack young interns are soon to set up the accoutrements for one killer office party. Our deep-pocketed financial backers must be proud.

And what can you, the humble reader of our glorious musings, expect in the upcoming fourth year of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”? First, more rhetorical questions. Second, more listings of things in order. Third, more listing of things in order. Fourth, more repetition.

Yet you should also expect a Fourth-Annual Horrible College-Student Poetry Competition. And youÂ’ll want to hang on tight for our Fourth-Annual Week of Loathing (which should begin any day now). In addition, you wonÂ’t want to miss out on the details of our bitchinÂ’ Third Anniversary Party.

Further, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” want to stress that you’ll enjoy all these and sundry other delights for the same low price you’ve paid for years one through three. Sure, the cost of everything else might go up, but not our charming animadversions.

Yeah, we’re pretty good to you. And you’re pretty good to us too—reading our vapid effusions all these years. Oh, just think of all the mindless palaver to look forward to in the year to come. You lucky devil.

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If anything, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” watch too many of those darned 24-hour cable news programs. Call it a vice: Some people commit adultery, others snort copious amounts of cocaine, and we tune in to too many episodes of “Scarborough Country.”

Boy, didnÂ’t we luck out in the vice department.

We mention this, dear reader, for a few distinct—and earnest—reasons. First, we think it’s a terrible—nay, disgraceful—habit. Such chat shows routinely dumb down their coverage, and spend far too much time on politically and intellectually nugatory fare. (Can anyone say Anna Nicole Smith?)

In addition, we also believe that these shows—whether broadcast on Fox News, MSNBC, CNN, or some even more dubious network—routinely make one irredeemable error: After bringing up a given topic for discussion, they incessantly allow two mindless party hacks to comment.

You know what we mean. A dunderheaded TV host—say, the stentorian Chris Matthews—will introduce a particular subject—say, a timetable for American troop withdrawals from Iraq. So far, so good (especially if you’re deaf, and thus don’t have to endure Chris Matthews barking at you).

But then whom will Mr. Matthews introduce to debate this issue? Well, naturally, one Democratic Party strategist and one Republican Party strategist. This, of course, ineluctably leads to a completely useless and predictable conversation.

We mean, come on: These stupid party shills are downright infuriating. As you listen to them offer their boilerplate responses, you can almost see them memorizing their partyÂ’s insipid talking points backstage. You can almost see the guy behind them pulling their string to make them talk.

Ah, so the Democratic Party doofus firmly believes that setting a timetable for American withdrawal in Iraq is a wonderful idea. Gee: ThatÂ’s a real shocker.

And who would have guessed it: The Republican Party boob takes the exact opposite stance. To him, itÂ’s imperative that we donÂ’t set a timetable. Well color us deeply surprised.

Why do they give camera time to such party-line flacks? Why not simply post a list of the partiesÂ’ respective talking points on the screen? Or maybe a taped message from Harry Reid and Trent Lott? ItÂ’d be just as compelling.

If they’re going to waste your time with these nincompoops, we think they ought to allow us, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” on the boob tube. Sure, we may be about as feminine as Ann Coulter and as mellifluous as Susan Estrich. Further, we collectively bear a striking resemblance to Noam Chomsky. But we promise we’ll be more entertaining.

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One of the junior editors here at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”—let’s just call him “Chip”—recently found himself strolling down an avenue downtown on a charming spring day. The weather was delightful, the breeze a charm, and he was on his cellular telephone.

Yeah, we know: This means that “Chip” is officially one of those dipsticks who talks on a cell ‘phone in public. That’s pretty obnoxious, we’ll admit. But at least he isn’t one of those boobs whose cell ‘phone is well nigh invisible, and leaves passersby to wonder whether they just witnessed a crazy person ranting to himself. And at least he wasn’t in the airport.

Anyway, we mention “Chip’s” cellular telephone usage for one important reason. Whilst “Chip” yammered away to his buddy, a garden-variety wino came up to him and began his delicious accosting process. Ah, the joys of urban life!

“Hey,” he intoned, “I need 89 cents.”

Can you believe the nerve of this character? Here was “Chip,” talking to a pal, and this erratically perambulating boob has just hit him up for funds. Loudly, too.

And he seems to have required a rather exact sum, no? 89 cents? Would he really be irked if we gave him a dollar? Could he have made change?

What did he need the money for, anyway? Little Debbie snack cakes only cost a quarter. Even the moon pies are only fifty cents.

Is there some sort of 89-cent crack sale we havenÂ’t heard about? Maybe we mistakenly deleted that mass e-mail. Along with those charming ones about non-prescription Viagra.

Well, as it turned out, “Chip” was not in the giving mood. And, even if he had been in the giving mood, he wouldn’t be inclined to hand cash over to some obstreperous jerk who can’t even beg for money nicely.

As a result, dear reader, silent “Chip” heard the full wrath of this charming fellow. If by “full wrath” you mean “full wrath minus the fact that he’s currently blitzkrieged out of his mind on a mixture of malt liquor and paint thinner.”

“I can’t stand no jackasses who ain’t givin’ me money,” he bellowed. Well, well: If we didn’t want to hand over some cash to him before, we certainly want to now.

Naturally, “Chip” didn’t say a word in response. This is the one situation—the only situation—in which winos have the upper hand. They may be malodorous derelicts. They may smoke crack like it’s going out of style. They may turn tricks behind the Lincoln Tunnel.

Yet they just donÂ’t fear a night or two in prison. Thus theyÂ’re game to say anything to you.

Sure, itÂ’s a small reward for being a shifty crack head. But itÂ’s something.

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As we have remarked before in this space, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” hunger for nothing so much as the status of fancy-pants public intellectuals. You know: The kind of folks who are so famous for brilliance that they occasionally deign to be featured on a chat show with that inestimable moron, Charlie Rose. (If you ask us, Western culture deserves to suffer a horrendous decline merely for spending government funds to prop up that garrulous buffoon.)

But how to do it? How to become the next non-lesbian Susan Sontag? How to become the next non-homosexualist Gore Vidal?

Tough questions, those. But perhaps David Brooks—himself a charming portrait of the public intellectual in practice—offers some useful advice.

In his otherwise feculent tome Bobos in Paradise, Mr. Brooks noted that intellectuals become famous for writing books that are magnificently incorrect. His example: Francis FukuyamaÂ’s The End of History, a book so obviously wrong that itÂ’s hard to say its title with a straight face.

But Mr. Fukuyama’s book, albeit the zenith of Mongoloid reasoning, was sufficiently popular to earn its author a tony gig at Johns Hopkins. Heck, it even resulted in “Fukuyama” being recognized on our computer’s spell-checker. Not bad work, if you can get it.

All we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must do, then, is write a book that is glorious, deliciously wrong. Galacitally incorrect. Miserably dubious.

Yeah, well, itÂ’s not as easy as it might seem. After all, so many public intellectuals have already contributed moronic books. TheyÂ’ve crowded the field, making it tough for an upstart to find a thesis thatÂ’s suitably dimwitted. How can you outdo such charlatanry?

You know, like Eric Alterman; can you get dumber than arguing that the mainstream media are biased in favor of conservatives? ThatÂ’s setting the bar awfully high, if you ask us.

And then thereÂ’s Ann Coulter: Pretty much every book she writes is deeply nonsensical. Once you label the entire Democratic Party a passel of treasonous weasels, itÂ’s hard to become more obnoxious.

But letÂ’s not forget Dinesh DÂ’Souza, the fellow who canÂ’t tell the difference between Jimmy Carter and Osama bin Laden. How do such idiots become famous? What does it say about our intellectual discourse that these are examples of heralded thinkers with plumb jobs and lovely book advances?

Okay, okay, okay: Enough of the soapboxing. We’re obviously just jealous that we can’t come up with a ridiculous idea. Maybe a book about the ways in which George W. Bush—and not Osama bin Laden—is the real fundamentalist?

Oh, we forgot: Half of our liberal polemicists have already written that exact title.

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As fanatical readers of this humble “weblog” recognize, “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” will soon pass an Internet milestone of sorts. Yes, yes, yes—in a few short days, this humble e-outfit will turn three years old. This isn’t as old as, say, Britney Spears, but our “website” has the advantage of possessing more hair than she has.

Quite frankly, three years on the ole’ Internets ain’t so bad. From a cursory examination of our “weblogroll,” we can tell that very few “websites” manage that sort of staying power. As we’ve remarked before, our “weblogroll” is something of a World-Wide Web version of the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. Most of these poor “weblogs” have been abandoned like red-headed step-children.

Given our impressive e-staying power, we are a bit more than alarmed by a recent trend in our reading audience. Put more simply, we are mildly appalled that our hits seem to be dropping like Marky Mark’s pants in the early ‘90s. That is to say, dear reader, suddenly no one seems to be reading this “weblog” at all.

In fact, thereÂ’s a pretty darn good chance that youÂ’re the only pathetic bastard who even bothered to check out our lackluster musings. Or, at least, youÂ’re the only one sufficiently out of it to have read this far. And, quite naturally, we thank you dearly.

But—not to put too fine a point on things—what the heck happened? Just a few months ago, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” strong-armed Glenn Reynolds into “linking” to our magnificent animadversions. A few weeks prior to that, no less an eminence than John Podhoretz declared: “This [“The Hatemonger’s Quarterly”] is one of the most interesting and amusing right-of-center blogs I’ve ever read.”

How the mighty have fallen. Man, if things continue in this direction, we’re pretty sure that we’ll be having coffee regularly with Jimmy the Greek, Screech from “Saved by the Bell,” and Todd Bridges. Which is pretty amazing, given that at least one of those fellows is dead.

Maybe, dear reader, itÂ’s high time we attempted to revive this old bag of e-bones. Perhaps we should start some sort of fancy marketing campaign. You know: impressive slogans; television spots with Geico-like frequency. Perhaps we could get Rip Torn to be our spokesman.

If youÂ’ve got any ideas, we, like Barack Obama, are all ears.

In the meantime, however, you can take pleasure in knowing that this humble “weblog” will deliver the same tepid commentary and feckless barbs we’ve been unknown for these past few years. And you can be darn sure we’ll limp into our third year on Al Gore’s Internet with semi-aplomb.

Ah, itÂ’s nice to feel like the Kansas City Royals once in a while.

Posted by: Chip at 12:01 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Whilst we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” busily ruminate on our soon-to-be three years on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web, we occasionally enjoy the kindly e-mails we have received from fans worldwide. In addition to all the urgent messages from Nigerian businessmen and helpful tips on dubious non-prescription Viagra, we take in a boatload of heartwarming e-missives each day.

In fact, just a few days ago, someone wrote us a message about a recent “post” of ours, and one of our interns mistakenly deleted it. In our heart of hearts, dear reader, we just know it was chock-a-block with words of effusive praise.

Every once in a great while, however, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” find ourselves on the receiving end of a less gracious e-epistle. Actually, this happens with greater frequency in regard to our official weekend gig.

If you didn’t yet know it, allow us to inform you that every Sunday we offer a sublime “post” for a popular Internet outfit known as Wizbang. So, in addition to savoring our savory musings on this humble “weblog,” you can take in our e-genius at Wizbang as well.

It appears, however, that a few of Wizbang’s readers aren’t particularly sold on the crack young staff. In fact, you might just say that they hate our guts. Which, given the name of our “weblog,” is appropriate.

We recognize this, dear reader, because our “posts” on Wizbang allow reader comments. You know reader comments, don’t you? They’re the grammatically challenged moronic utterings of functionally illiterate buffoons.

Allow us to offer a case in point. In response to a delicious “post” ridiculing overheated media critic Eric Alterman, some fellow called bryanD wrote the following:

I know who Alterman is (humourless, skinflint, politics aside), but these HQ posts, and the HQ site? Is it a secret test bed for some character generator that some high school in Thousand Oaks is sending out? Input Kelsey Grammer manual of style; cross with NRO's The Corner talking points: *fart noise*. It's so consistantly repellent as a Reader, that it must be synthetic.
Posted by: bryanD at March 18, 2007 01:36 AM

Well, gosh: How did he know that our humble “weblog” is a “secret test bed for some character generator that some high school in Thousand Oaks is sending out”? We thought that was a secret.

More importantly, what the heck is the complete nincompoop writing? We’re “consistantly [sic] repellent as a Reader”? What the heck does that mean? We think that “bryanD” could learn a thing or two from our Kelsey Grammer Manual of Style—perhaps he might even learn how to write like a non-retard.

Notice how this doofus canÂ’t think of anyone higher-brow than Kelsey Grammer? When coming up with a writer we most resemble, he canÂ’t even think of a writer, but has to go for a television actor instead. Boy, someone is a real intellectual!

Posted by: Chip at 12:01 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Ah, The Huffington Post. Does any other example of Arianna HuffingtonÂ’s misplaced egotism offer such delicious rewards? We collectively think not. (WeÂ’re willing to reconsider, however.)

After all, the ole’ Huffy Po, dear reader, is a veritable cornucopia of dimwitted nonsense. Every once in a great while, to be sure, someone comes along and sullies the fun by writing an intelligent “post.” (We’re looking at you, David Mamet.) Other than that, however, the Huffin’ Pot is a treasure trove of cant.

DonÂ’t believe us? Well, allow us to present you with a splendid example.

Recently, dear reader, a journalist called Mona Gable penned a “post” on The Huffington Post with an uproariously stupid title: “Attacking John Edwards: It’s Only a Matter of Time.” Boy, how’s that for clairvoyance? Gee: A fellow who’s running for the Presidency of the United States may soon be compelled to endure the slings and arrows of negative campaigning? You don’t say! We’ve never heard of such a thing.

We wonder what other article ideas Ms. Gable had. How about a piece called “Evening Is Approaching: It Will Probably Come Right After Day”? Or maybe “I Think You’re Getting Older and Older Every Year—In Fact, Everyone Is”? Obviously, genius just drips from the pores of this lady. No wonder she’s such a top dog in the journalistic rat race—even if we’ve never heard of her.

But thatÂ’s not the only thing pathetic about Ms. GableÂ’s lame article. As an example of liberal boilerplate, itÂ’s thoroughly unremarkable: EveryoneÂ’s leaving John Edwards alone for now, it warbles, but soon the Evil Right-Wingers will have to make fun of him. Blah, blah, blah.

Someone ought to tell Ms. Gables that she wrote that solemn plea for decorum on The Huffington Post. This is the Internet lodestone, need we remind her, for readers pining for Dick CheneyÂ’s death. Its writers routinely chastise conservative and centrist political figures in nasty, mean-spirited ways. So pardon us if Ms. GableÂ’s yearning for Rodney King-like harmony rings a little hollow.

But maybe Ms. Gable is on to something. Perhaps the world ought to have a change of heart. We suggest that all of our thuggish right-wing pals lay off John Edwards—and rip into Mona Gable instead.

Posted by: Chip at 12:01 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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By now, dear reader, you have undoubtedly heard about the brouhaha that erupted in response to Dinesh DÂ’SouzaÂ’s latest screed, The Enemy at Home. Apparently, Mr. DÂ’Souza, a veteran polemicist from the dreaded Culture Wars, didnÂ’t realize that his pals on the political Right wouldnÂ’t take too kindly to his insipid arguments.

Well, gee: In his jeremiad, Mr. D’Souza places the blame for 9/11—and, more generally, Islamist terrorism—squarely on the American Left. You know: A sort of “Jimmy Carter Made Me Do It” defense for Osama bin Laden and his ilk. Who would ever find that offensive?

Well, dear reader, it turns out that a lot of political conservatives do. So many, in fact, that the leftists who previously caterwauled about DÂ’SouzaÂ’s stupidity have long since ceased: Once they realized that their political opponents also thought DÂ’Souza was full of it, they grew bored of the whole matter. To our lefty pals, it seems, Mr. DÂ’SouzaÂ’s errors were only worth mentioning if a sizeable number of conservatives agreed with them.

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have been following the Dinesh D’Souza meltdown with sad fascination. Frankly, it’s like watching a car wreck—you don’t want to look, but you just can’t help yourself.

After all, Mr. DÂ’SouzaÂ’s umpteen vituperative replies to his critics have resembled nothing so much as the retorts of Martin Bernal, the red diaper baby crank who wrote Black Athena. But at least Bernal disagreed with his political adversaries, whereas Mr. DÂ’Souza burns bridges with every nasty reply.

By now, Mr. DÂ’Souza has penned around 450 angry responses to his detractors. And, as far as we can tell, they are almost comically devoid of arguments. Gosh: Even an idiot would stumble upon an argument once in a while, we figured. But not Mr. DÂ’Souza.

Instead, he has merely managed a veritable festival of ad hominem fluff. In his mind, Scott Johnson, who wrote a disparaging review of the book in The New Criterion, is some lowly “weblogger,” and, apparently, not worth trusting.

In fact, Mr. DÂ’Souza even remarked that he thought The New Criterion went out of business years ago. Boy, that says a lot for his reading habits. Perhaps heÂ’s been too busy reading Cat Fancy?

What is shocking about all of this, dear reader, is the realization of how strangely thin-skinned Dinesh DÂ’Souza is. This is a guy who wrote a book called The End of Racism, which argued that racism no longer exists in the United States of America, for crying out loud. YouÂ’d figure that such a fellow would be rather inured to hostile press.

But, oh no: When his book was criticized, he couldnÂ’t respond diplomatically, but had to flail away at everyone, employing the nastiest terms possible.

Posted by: Chip at 12:01 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Regular visitors to sundry political “websites” on Al Gore’s World-Wide Web undoubtedly recognize that partisan hacks delight on offering examples of the insipid comments found on their ideological opponents’ “weblogs.” Accordingly, one routinely finds left-leaning “weblogs” ranting about the stupid comments found on, say, Little Green Footballs. And one routinely finds right-leaning “weblogs” raving about the moronic comments found on, say, the Daily Kos.

To be honest, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have taken part in this tired political theater in the past. In fact, seldom does a month go by without our taking potshots at some moronic left-wing commenter or other.

A recent perambulation round the Internet, however, has given us reason to pause for reflection. We happened upon a comment so bizarre and stupid that it made us think anew about our earlier practice. Of course, ridiculing dumb comments is much like shooting fish in a barrel—from what we can tell, neither side of the political spectrum has a monopoly on intelligence. Or a lack of intelligence, to be more precise.

But this galactically obtuse comment compelled us to wonder whether many who leave comments on “weblogs” are just plain Grade-A nincompoops. We think it’ll make you reflect on the same thing.

We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” found this dimwitted message on—wait for it—The Huffington Post. On said “website,” some boring feminist or other wrote a piece called “A Feminist’s Transformation.”

Frankly, dear reader, we didn’t read much of the “post.” Something about the words “feminist” and “transformation” forces our eyes to glaze over. We think it’s some sort of medical condition.

But the first response to this ho-hum “post” was anything but ho-hum. Penned by someone calling himself/herself Merlin7, it reads as follows:

Having a child, especially intentionally, is a selfish act in this crowded world. Unfortunately, it also is akin to acquiring a new car, as children have become lifestyle accessories.

Also, a woman's deciding to have a child usually involves duping some unsuspecting male into participating in the mating ritual, including marriage, one of the most destructive institutions of our time.

If you insist on having a baby, by all means get the sperm from a sperm bank or willing donor who is not roped in emotionally and legally. Then be prepared to raise the child alone without whining about your plight.

By: Merlin7 on March 18, 2007 at 03:26pm

Wow: WeÂ’ve seen lots of dumb comments in our day, but this one may just take the proverbial cake.

We don’t know what this fellow’s (or, much less likely, woman’s) politics are, but he seems fairly opinionated. After all the list of things he dislikes includes: Children, new cars, marriage, and “the mating ritual.”

Well, at least he doesn’t have it in for sperm banks. And, heck, at least he perceives that having a child unintentionally is slightly less “selfish” than—dare we say it—wittingly procreating. (Would he care to tell that to our Islamic pals, who are procreating far faster than are we in the self-loathing West?)

We donÂ’t want to go out on a limb here, but it strikes us as if Merlin7 is an angry unwed fellow whoÂ’s never dated and rides a bike to work. Oh, and a big fan of The Huffington Post.

Coincidence?

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We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are nothing if not inveterate peaceniks. In fact, the only difference between us and the loveable scamps in ANSWER (Act Now To Stop War and End Racism) is that we’re not unhinged Stalinoid kooks. Other than that, we’re almost frighteningly alike.

And so, dear reader, we would hope that the folks in the mainstream media, if ever they feel the need to mention us, would refer to us as “an obscure pro-peace ‘weblog.’” Frankly, we think we’ve earned it.

After all, like many of our peace-loving pals, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” believe strongly in an “Out of Iraq Now” agenda. In fact, we’re currently whipping up some placards with that very slogan scribbled on them, for use in some upcoming “peace rally” or some such.

There’s only one key difference between our signs and those bandied about by our pro-peace confreres. Whereas their posters read “US: Out of Iraq Now,” ours read “Al Qaeda: Out of Iraq Now.” Despite this minor distinction, we all hunger for the same thing.

You see, dear reader, whilst our fellow radicals pine for peace by praying for an American defeat in Iraq, we’re pining for peace by praying for a terrorist defeat in Iraq. Still, we essentially want the same thing—an irenic Iraq.

Given that our mainstream media pals ineluctably refer to those who hope for an American withdrawal “peace advocates,” it seems only commonsensical to refer to us by the same nomenclature. Never mind whom were attempting to sway into capitulation; it’s the peace part that really matters.

As you might imagine, rallying al Qaeda to depart from Iraq may prove a bit difficult. From our cursory understanding of this cabal, it strikes us as a bit on the pugnacious side.

Still, our peace-loving message should inspire these fellows to depart forthwith. Nothing speaks louder than high-minded calls for peace from a bunch of sweaty bongo-drum-playing tyros bedecked in hemp. We drip peace from our very essence so much that you can almost smell it.

Frankly, dear reader, we have long wondered why so few of our fellow peaceniks take to our course of action. Why do they always attempt to rally the West (America, Israel, Britain, NATO, &c.) to depart from conflicts? They never seem so bent on rallying the Palestinians, Iran, al Qaeda, &c. to leave.

Funny, that. We suppose thatÂ’s one of the great mysteries of our peace-promoting pals.

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Okay, we admit it: The other day, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” caught a few minutes or so of a Comedy Central special program entitled “The Axis of Evil Comedy Tour.” Its point, it appears, was to bring a group of Arab and Muslim comics to the microphone, so they could bitch and moan about the vicissitudes of life in the post-9/11 West.

Ah, yes: Because life in the West is so much worse than in, say, Saudi Arabia. ThatÂ’s why Muslims are fleeing the United States for such evil dictatorships in such large numbers.

Frankly, dear reader, we watched snippets of the program with suspicion. Ever since John Stewart took control of “The Daily Show,” we’ve had the vague feeling that Comedy Central aims to take MTV’s place as the television network offering the most fervent sugar-coated liberal political messages. If you ask us, if it weren’t for “South Park,” Comedy Central would begin to resemble an intentionally humorous MoveOn.org rally. (Unlike all of their unintentional ones.)

To be downright honest, “The Axis of Evil Comedy Tour” did not let us down. Sure, its handful of headlining comics—Maz Jobrani, Ahmed Ahmed, and similar no-name yet hirsute acts—presented little more than stale gags on obvious topics: Airport security, airport security, and, just to spice things up a bit, airport security.

They couldnÂ’t even muster a lame gag about the traffic in LA. And, hey: HavenÂ’t they noticed that men and women are so different?

In general, the Middle Eastern comics on the program proffered a mind-numbingly similar worldview: Life is tough for Arabs and Muslims thanks to the ridiculousness of the Bush administration in particular and ignorant Americans in general. Thanks to moronic Americans overreacting to the threat of terrorism, life is rough for our Muslim friends.

Now, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” certainly understand why Muslims might be nervous about the treatment they could receive in the West in our post-9/11 world. If Muslims must face prejudice, we think it’s horrible.

Still, we couldnÂ’t help but note what seemed to be missing from these comicsÂ’ purview: For all their antagonism toward everyday Americans and George W. Bush, they appeared strikingly untroubled by Islamist terrorists. In fact, they never directed their anger at these fanatics, portraying al Qaeda and its kindred spirits as a collection of sorry folks.

Well, gee: We found it more than a bit irksome that these “Axis of Evil” comics find so much to contemn in the Patriot Act, but have little to say about Islamist extremism. They can upbraid non-Muslims for their ignorance, but offer nary a comment critical of Sharia law, the subjugation of women, Arab totalitarianism, &c.

As if this werenÂ’t bad enough, we noted that one of the comics, Dean Obeidallah, was introduced on the program as hailing from the eastern part of Palestine. That is to say, dear reader, heÂ’s a Palestinian.

Why the “eastern part” bit? Well, the “western part” is Israel, of course. And nothing’s funnier to our “Axis of Evil” yukksters than the destruction of Israel.

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Right now, weÂ’re going to make two statements, both of them equally true. 1) We love the NCAA basketball tournament. 2) We hate the NCAA basketball tournament.

Although we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” usually reserve our love/hate emotions for Daisy Fuentes, we think that so-called March Madness well deserves our mixed feelings. After all, like all God-fearing Americans, we set up a little NCAA tournament pick-‘em pool in the office, and nervously await the results.

Without fail, dear reader, each year the pool winner is a female staffer—let’s just call her “Chip”—who knows absolutely nothing about college basketball. You know: The kind of gal who picks the teams based on their uniform colors. Is anything more infuriating than this? Well, Grover Norquist, of course, but that’s setting the bar awfully high.

Even though this yearÂ’s tournament is only a day old, we have the sneaking suspicion that our Color-Me-Beautiful entry will wind up winning yet again. Despite all the hours spent examining useless statistics like RPI (Roddy Piper Investing? Raging Prune Injections?), our brackets are already more busted than Todd Bridges.

And, quite frankly, we know exactly whom to blame. ItÂ’s those fancy-pants analysts on ESPN. Ah, yes: The stupid la-di-da experts who offer brilliant reasons why each and every team is going to win. Thanks a lot, you moronic jocks.

Oh, sure: Eastern Kentucky has a fabulous backcourt. Pick them over the Tar Heels. And Maryland just canÂ’t handle raging Davidson. Yeah, right.

If you ask us, dear reader, Digger Phelps owes each one of us $5. His moronic choices swayed us, and now we feel like Jessica Simpson getting her SAT scores back. It isnÂ’t pretty.

We suppose, dear reader, that the randomness of March Madness is part of the fun. After all, they say that you have something like a one in fourteen squillion chance of guessing all the picks right.

That sure beats the womenÂ’s tournament. If youÂ’re not a complete dunce, you have pretty much a one in three chance of getting all the picks right. And, as we all know, watching the womenÂ’s tournament is about as fun as taking in Billy Packer stripping.

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As we have mentioned before, this humble “weblog” subscribes to numerous magazines. You know, the typical intellectual fare: Cat Fancy, Black Hair-Care, The American Conservative. But few magazines give us greater joy than The New Republic, America’s sane left-leaning political weekly.

Or, we should say, fortnightly. As was recently announced, The New Republic is currently undergoing some changes, and, amongst other things, will now appear twice per month. Frankly, dear reader, the announcement of this change marked the firs time that we knew the publication schedule of TNR; the magazine appears at our doorstep with such studied irregularity that, to our minds, it could have either been a daily or a quarterly.

In fact, by the time the good ole’ TNR appears at “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” Headquarters, its article feature such pressing issues as “Trial and Error: The Liberal Case for Letting Dick Cheney’s Hatchet Man Walk” (too late) and “Does Robert Taft Condone the Killing of Field Mice?” (way too late).

Still, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must say that we thoroughly enjoyed taking in the March 5 & 12 number of TNR. Among other delights, it carries “A Different Country,” Peter Beinart’s self-declared final “TRB” column.

In said piece, Mr. Beinart hems and haws about his erstwhile support for the liberation of Iraq. (Nowadays, he deeply regrets this stance, having moved on to vociferously supporting interventionism in Darfur. ThereÂ’s no word yet on when heÂ’ll dramatically recant from that position.)

Mr. Beinart’s reason for his previous support for the Iraq War? As he puts it, “because Kanan Makiya did.” Mr. Makiya, you see, is an Iraqi exile who urged the United States to dethrone Saddam Hussein, and this, apparently, drove Mr. Beinart to support Saddam’s ouster. Yeah: Blame the Arab.

But Mr. Beinart’s admission—which strikes us as simplified to the point of fatuity—didn’t draw our attention. Rather, this passage seemed more noteworthy:

In deadly earnest, he [Makiya] was asking the United States to become what that South African exile could not even contemplate without laughing: a revolutionary democratic power. For MakiyaÂ’s neoconservative allies, the idea was intuitive: In their air-brushed narrative, thatÂ’s what the United States had always been.

Uh, gee, Mr. Beinart: Make any straw men recently? The neoconservatives offer an “air-brushed narrative” of American foreign policy that makes the US into “a revolutionary democratic power”? Exactly which neoconservative writers have you been reading?

Now, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” aren’t senior fellows at the Council on Foreign Relations, but we think we know far more about neoconservatism than fancy-pants Mr. Beinart.

Had Mr. Beinart troubled himself to read a few basic books on neoconservative foreign policy, he would learn that their “hard Wilsonian” marks a break in American foreign relations. As the neoconservatives describe it, their movement amounts to a great shift in American policy—a policy that formerly, in the Middle East especially, was fond of coddling dictators and thugs, provided they offered some ephemeral “stability.”

According to this non-air-brushed narrative, the US has made some grave mistakes in cozying up to odious Middle Eastern tyrants—mistakes that Mr. Beinart, now in full apology mode for his stance on Iraq, would like to repeat.

Too bad this amounted to Mr. Beinart’s last “TRB” column: Just think of all the straw men he could have offered in a handful more.

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Most people recall a handful of formative moments in their lives. You know: The first time you went to school; your first Nobel Peace Prize; your first realization that “Mork & Mindy” actually wasn’t very funny, despite the quasi-comedic antics of a hirsute young Robin Williams. That sort of thing.

Anyway, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” mention this because we have just experienced our own collective formative moment of sorts. That is to say, our humble “weblog” just reached 250,000 hits.

Now, to some eminences on Al GoreÂ’s World-Wide Web, thatÂ’s no big deal. Glenn Reynolds, the InternetÂ’s famed Instapundit, probably garners that many hits in a day or two. And he teaches as some God-forsaken satellite campus of the University of Tennessee.

Still, if you ask us, 250,000 is a pretty darned impressive landmark. Yeah, thatÂ’s right: WeÂ’re pretty darned popular according to our own (admittedly self-serving) account.

And this strikes us as particularly impressive, given the numerous hurdles we’ve have to overcome during our largely futile attempts at some nominal e-fame. First, we only “post” once a day—and that’s not the kind of Metamucil-like regularity that the typical impatient Web-stroller demands.

Further, we oft discuss immensely unpopular topics. On occasion, dear reader, we have a vague sense that can come across as a bit snooty. Our rants against such red-meat fare as country music and rock-n-roll sure donÂ’t play well in the heartland. Except against the Dixie Chicks, of course. Those sell-out whores.

As if this weren’t enough, our “website’s” complete lack of pictures, graphics, or pleasing imagery of any sort seems well nigh designed to invoke e-anonymity. Add to that our use of the phrase “well nigh.” If that doesn’t make us about as popular as a novel by Ana Marie Cox (the Internet’s famed nose-picking Wonkette), we don’t know what will.

So, dear reader, we’re pleased as punch that—in a time span of under three years—we’ve managed to attract 250,000 hits. Even if a good 200,000 of them come from our parents, and another 40,000 or so stem from a frightening Internet stalker. Hey, that’s still pretty good in our collective books.

Accordingly, you can blithely expect more of the same from the crack young staff in the many moons to come. More studious avoidance of topical issues (and topical cream); more hackneyed attempts at clear-sighted argument; more Family Circus-esque humor—ah, just think of all the fun we’ll have!

We hope, then, that, in between gnashing your teeth over Chuck Hagel’s potential presidential bid, you’ll continue to check us out. Although we’re more likely to discuss Hegel than Hagel (and though we’re more inclined to vote for the former, even though he’s already dead—and German), we truly appreciate your flipping back here from time to time.

As the folks form Bartles & James, following the lead of many teen-aged girls talking to their training bras, once said, we thank you for your support.

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As we have oft noted in this space, one of the guilty pleasures of the crack young staff is reading The Huffington Post, Arianna Huffington’s self-paean to political fatuousness. We know, we know: You’re unlikely to get ahead in life by reading such piffle. Still, at times we find it downright hilarious—albeit unintentionally hilarious.

Here’s a wonderful case in point. Bill Maher, a left-wing version of Ann Coulter with a mullet, penned a short self-exonerating piece on the ole’ Huffy Po called “What I Didn’t Say.” As an example of unreflective spin, it’s unremarkable boilerplate.

Yet this teeny “post” encouraged a great amount of left-wing vitriol in the comments section. It appears as if many of our radical pals dislike Bill Maher being chided for suggesting that Dick Cheney should die. Go figure.

And here, dear reader, is our favorite loopy comment, composed by the tellingly named “BUSHLICKER07”:

Free Speech? Bill, since this idiot became President 6 years ago, the "Free Speech" we held so dearly has almost totally disappeared. Between Bush, Cheney,Gonzalez and the Supreme Court, we are afraid to speak out for fear of retribution. Look at this site for crying out loud! It shut down the Cheney has Clot site before anyone could comment. Yes, people hate this man. What is his favorable now 15%? But why has it come to this? Why are we so afraid of these right wing dictators?

By: BUSHLICKER07 on March 05, 2007 at 05:09pm

Ah, yes: It’s the venerable “America Under Bush Is a Police State” tirade. How often does that appear in the left-wing “weblogosphere”? For some reason, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” never tire of reading examples of this classic.

We mean, come on: Free speech “has almost totally disappeared”? What country do you suppose this self-described Bush-Licker inhabits? Certainly not that charming South American country currently run by Hugo Chavez. To our pals on the Left, Chavez’s malignant anti-free press machinations are just hunky dory. So dear Hugo shut down opposition newspapers and television networks—what’s so bad about that? Hey, at least he’s opposed to George W. Bush.

That’s why deranged lunatics like this Bush-Licker constantly prattle on about the Bush administration as a collection of “right-wing dictators.” When they see real dictators—Hugo Chavez, Fidel Castro, et al.—they fall in love.

Frankly, dear reader, we would love it if this hard Left conspiracy-mongering bit the dust—or at least largely subsided. We think it’s poisonous that so many committed political junkies think this way.

When youÂ’re angry because the political mainstream argues that itÂ’s in bad taste to pray for the Vice PresidentÂ’s death, youÂ’re officially crazy. LetÂ’s hope we see very little of this nonsense from either side of the aisle in the months to come.

ItÂ’s not bloody likely, but we can have our dreams, canÂ’t we?

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Soon enough, dear reader, the glorious day will be upon us. As everyone hip to Al GoreÂ’s Internet undoubtedly recognizes, March 31, 2004 is a monumental day in the history of Western civilization. Nay: It is a monumental day in civilization. Period. (Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Hammurabi.)

For, during that portentous 24-hour period, “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” was born. Ah, yes: It is hard to recall what your life was like before this humble “weblog” was up and running, isn’t it?

You neednÂ’t be too much of a clock-watcher, moreover, to recognize that our third e-anniversary is coming apace. ThatÂ’s right: In a few short weeks, this humble e-outfit will be one full year older. And, as if that werenÂ’t enough, soon weÂ’ll break the 250,000 hits mark.

Boy, itÂ’s times like these that make you feel like Michael Jordan. And by that we mean bald.

Naturally, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” won’t let this milestone pass without copious celebration. As is our wont, each year we make the most out of our anniversary by throwing a wild soiree. It’s pretty much the e-party of the year (and, no, you can’t get any “e” there—you repellent druggies). Vanity Fair, eat your heart out.

As you might well imagine, dear reader, the crème de la crème of Al Gore’s World-Wide Web will be present. We don’t cater to lesser lights such as Glenn Reynolds or Arianna Huffington. No: Only the real bigwigs can attend. Like the guy who writes a “weblog” that pertains only to monkeys. Now that’s classy.

You may wonder, dear reader, exactly how we became such savvy Internet superstars. How did the preternaturally talented crack young staff turn out to be the proverbial toast of the proverbial town? Was it their preternatural talent? Or did that merely serve as a hindrance?

Good questions, those. It’s not terribly surprising—given our nearly three full years in the “weblogging” racket—that you’d wonder about (to quote some horrid Michael J. Fox movie or other) the Secret of Our Success.

Frankly, though, itÂ’s tough to put a finger on. In this respect, at least, itÂ’s very different from Paris HiltonÂ’s genitals.

Still, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” can think of a few tricks of the trade. We don’t want to give away all our secrets, but we figure that—in a spirit of e-comity—we can lay a couple of pearls of wisdom on you.

How about the following?

1) Write “posts” more than once every three months. It turns out that, if your last “post” was composed in 1845 and pertains to an upcoming gold rush in California, readers will eventually give up on you. It’s sad, but it’s true.

2) Try your best to get over e-grudges. Sure, you may have fought years ago with some dolt running a pathetic “weblog” called Sullywatch. But don’t stoop to the level of mentioning how horrid his vapid scribblings are after such a long pause. Even if his rancid detritus is sullying the Internet. It just makes you look a bit lame.

Well, dear reader, there you have it: A couple of brilliant tips from the crack young staff. With such insightful sentiments brewing around “Hatemonger’s Quarterly” headquarters, no wonder this fine e-outfit has lasted so darn long.

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We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have oft remarked on the irksome incessantness of the 24-hour cable news networks. As the presidential election nears, they will undoubtedly become even more annoying.

Certainly, disdain for these outfits and the blown-dry nitwits who pontificate on them is a well-worn theme on this humble “weblog.” Why, if we recall correctly (and we believe we do), we’ve already excoriated a gaggle of cable news folks: Chris Matthews, Charlie Rose, Craig Crawford, et al.

And yet, and yet, and yet. We never seem to tire of trashing these pests, chiefly because these pests never seem to disappear.

In fact, we have a hunch that the disappearance of one cable news buffoon only makes life worse—since he’s inevitably replaced by an even more odious twit. To wit, Phil Donahue left the airwaves—but this merely made room for Keith Olbermannn, a fellow who even annoyed us when he was confined to discussing sporting events.

Accordingly, dear reader, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” have decided to vent our frustrations again. That’s right: Susan Estrich and Bill O’Reilly aren’t safe today, because we aim to pounce on those media types anew.

Let us start with the beady-eyed nincompoop Joe Scarborough. In our estimation, this ex-Congressman has made one of the more amazing transformations in recent television history: From a completely enraging imbecile to a completely enraging imbecile. Even though his political views have changed, his level of political acumen remains unwaveringly low. It’s like he’s the Arianna Huffington of the non-“weblogosphere.”

And letÂ’s not forget Chris Matthews. WeÂ’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: This guy is a low-rent carnival barker. We wouldnÂ’t buy a used car from this chucklehead, let alone take political advice from him. Chris MatthewsÂ’ existence speaks highly for a Nobel Prize being awarded to the fellow who invented the mute button.

How about Mort Kondracke? We must admit, dear reader, that we almost always find him sensible—we quite esteem his moderate-Right politics. But the guy can’t seem to spit out a sentence, for crying out loud! Wouldn’t you think that an inability to speak English would disqualify you from a job as a TV pundit? Well, apparently not.

But perhaps the most appalling is Lou Dobbs. We’re not entirely sure where we stand on the issue of illegal immigration. But we’re certain that we want Lou Dobbs’ job to be outsourced—immediately.

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It’s actually a mite pathetic. Mere hours after the guilty verdict was delivered in the case of I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby, our friends in the leftist “weblogosphere” were jumping for joy. Ah, yes: The disgrace of a man convicted of perjury; if you can’t cheer about that, what can you cheer about?

Forgive us if we find all of these left-wing theatrics a tad ugly. To be sure, responsible organs of the Left—The Washington Post comes to mind—got to the heart of the Libby verdict: No one committed a crime by informing the press of the identity of Joe Wilson’s wife, and former ambassador Wilson is himself an inveterate liar.

True enough. But someone please tell this to the twisted folks on the lefty “weblogs.” For some reason, these batty ideologues are still up in arms about the “leaking” of Valerie Plame’s identity—even though it was clearly Richard Armitage who did the divulging and was not the result of some massive conspiracy brewing in the administration, even though Plame was no longer a covert CIA operative, and even though Wilson himself had previously referred to his wife’s job in public forums.

Ah, but logic does not appear to be a strong suit for many of our pals on the loony Left. Instead of offering careful thoughts about the trial, they seem content to imagine that the guilty verdict is tantamount to a deathblow to the Bush administration.

Frankly, dear reader, itÂ’s difficult to follow their argument. But, such as it is, it appears to go as follows:

I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby, a former aide to Vice President Cheney, was convicted of lying to a grand jury. Accordingly, the Bush administration knowingly misled the public into war in Iraq, has destroyed civil liberties in America, and is bringing about a fascistic empire.

Are we the only ones who donÂ’t see how any of this makes sense? Apparently so: To the darlings who troll around the Huffington Post, this sort of conclusion is taken as gospel.

It just goes to show you how pathetic is the far Left in this country. Bereft of any significant political victories, our lefty pals must imagine that the conviction of “Scooter” Libby amounts to an indictment of the Bush doctrine, the Republican Party, Dick Cheney, apple pie, the Fine Young Cannibals, &c.

To which we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” respond: Why stop there? If you are sufficiently unhinged to believe that the Libby trial alone demonstrates the horrors of the Iraq War, we think you’re dumb enough to believe anything. So why not make an even more farfetched argument?

How about this one?

I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby, a former aide to Vice President Cheney, was convicted of lying to a grand jury. Accordingly, the Bush administration knowingly misled the public into war in Iraq, ahs destroyed civil liberties in America, is bringing about a fascistic empire, and, with the help of Fiji, will soon force all Native Americans to disrobe in shopping malls. In addition, the Libby trial demonstrates that George Bush, although claiming to be a Protestant, is actually a Dutch Jewish businessman who has controlled the American government in an attempt to ethnically cleanse the Palestinians.

Now that, we hasten to conclude, is really nuts. Perhaps such thoughts will earn us a guest column at Counterpunch? Or perhaps the approval of Harry Reid?

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There are times, dear reader, when we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” routinely get fed up with politics. In fact, this happens for about four years before every presidential election.

Like any other God-fearing Americans, we oft grow weary of the 24-hour coverage of insignificant pseudo-political firestorms. You know, like the latest Ann Coulter brouhaha: If you ask us, anyone who thinks Ann Coulter is anything other than a self-promoting twit is a complete buffoon.

But now a larger issue has appeared over the horizon—and it seems dead-set on irking us no end.

Yes, we’re referring to the recent guilty verdict in four of the five charges against I. Lewis “Scooter” Libby, former aide to Dick Cheney. All of the hypocritical handwriting is just driving us up a wall. If not literally, dear reader, then at least figuratively.

Allow us to explain. Not so long ago, a certain President of the United States was the object of a zealous, not to say dogged, special prosecutor. This tireless prosecutor—who was clearly beholden to different political views from those championed by the President—had difficulty drumming up charges against this President, and wound up settling on perjury and obstruction of justice.

Oh, how the lefties howled with anger: The special prosecutor is out of control! He clearly embarked on a fishing expedition, having proved unable to catch the President in any more dubious activities. Meanwhile, our pals on the political Right were screaming for the electric chair.

Ah, but that was then. And this, as they say, is now. Dear, oh, dear: How the tables have turned. Now Patrick Fitzgerald is the overzealous special prosecutor who couldnÂ’t find a real crime. So he hunted down poor Mr. Libby for supposedly fibbing about a non-existent crime that was never committed.

As if on cue, our lefty pals—who were previously outraged about out-of-control special prosecutors—are screaming for the electric chair. And our friends on the Right suddenly find themselves up in arms about the deep unfairness of such a sham prosecution.

ItÂ’s as if one could cut the irony with a spoon. A sharp spoon, but a spoon nevertheless. Further, this whole madness is enough to ensure that one never votes for Democrats or Republicans again.

In fact, it’s even worse. We, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” must admit that we hoped—and hope—that Mr. Libby will be exonerated. We have a hard time understanding why informing the public that Joe Wilson—who lied in his New York Times op-ed about the nature of his own report from Niger—was sent to Africa by his wife, and not at the behest of the Vice President, was wrong.

WhatÂ’s the crime in that? We think itÂ’s a crucial part of debunking this odious, self-possessed popinjay. Why would the Vice President blithely send a correspondent to The Nation to make determinations germane to American foreign policy? It makes no bloody sense.

Yet now the Libby verdict compels us to keep a sordid cast of characters in the national spotlight: Joe Wilson, Valerie Plame, Matt Cooper, et al. Further, our left-wing pals will take the conviction as proof positive that the Iraq War was an evil debacle.

How they make this connection is not clear. But, hey, letÂ’s not ask our buddies on the Left to think that hard. If they were real experts in hard thinking, they wouldnÂ’t so routinely side with Islamic fascists against our society, now would they?

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“Diversity,” we are oft told nowadays, is a higher-education desideratum. By this, our college administrators mean that the presence of numerous “underrepresented minorities”—chiefly blacks and Hispanics—enriches the educational experiences of college students.

Such folks, then, do not trumpet all kinds of “diversity.” Intellectual diversity, it seems, means very little to our ivory tower pals: Left-wing radical professors love dark faces, but don’t much care for such dark faces if their owners think like Alan Keyes or Clarence Thomas.

If you ask us, dear reader, it is a curious proposition that ethnic diversity, qua ethnic diversity, automatically aids the intellectual experiences of college kids. Certainly the powers-that-be at Howard University would agree with us—they don’t seem so keen on ethnic diversity, now do they?

And, to be sure, some of the most famous environments for intellectual achievement have been rather ethnically un-diverse. 5th century Athens, for example, wasnÂ’t exactly a hotbed of racial diversity, and yet it wound up being home to some important advances. Ditto Renaissance Florence.

Ah, but these are the curiosities that surround the collegiate “diversity” movement. To which we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” can add one more.

Recently, dear reader, one of our junior editors—let’s just call him “Chip”—perused the 2007 edition of U.S. News & World Report’s “America’s Best Colleges” issue. We know, we know: It’s embarrassing even to admit that you have glanced at this sordid rag, which somehow has hoodwinked folks into believing that it is the end-all-be-all of higher education.

Still, a particular outcome in the U.S. News rankings struck “Chip” as illustrative. Among the ridiculous categories in which schools are rated—“Best Universities—Masters (By Region),” “Best Comprehensive Colleges—Bachelor’s (By Region)”—one finds “Racial Diversity.”

Naturally, since the presence of numerous races on campus is so wonderful and helpful, one would figure that the very best schools in the nation would do well in this category.

Well, according to good ole’ U.S. News, here are the “national universities” with the greatest racial diversity:

1) Rutgers—Newark
2) University of Houston
3) Nova Southeastern University
4) Polytechnic University
5) Univ. of California—Riverside
Well, congratulations, Rutgers: YouÂ’re clearly the best university in the United States of America. And, as we all expected, Nova Southeastern University isnÂ’t far behind.

Now, admittedly many fancy-pants schools have reputations that far exceed their actual value. If you ask us, you can get a decent college education at most American universities—and you can get a lousy one anywhere. So we don’t buy into the notion that a school with a “designer name” is necessarily so fantastic.

But, if our college administrators are so sure about the cardinal virtues of racial diversity, why donÂ’t they send more of their kids to Nova Southeastern University? After all, by their own criterion, it offers a better intellectual and social environment than Harvard.

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