And the Jack McPhillips award goes to John Derbyshire
The Jack McPhillips award, named after my late father, goes occasionally, here and there, now and then, to a person who has earned dad's most blistering yet inscrutable insult: "He talks like a man with a paper asshole!"
John Derbyshire, who has been fighting for the award for a long time, finally earned it today with this article at National Review Online.
Conservatives, Mr. Derbyshire, don't take on responsibilities and then dump them when their feet get a little damp. You're not a conservative, sir. You're a sideways punk who talks like a man with a paper asshole.
May you be chained to a metal chair with your mouth taped while forced to eat dinner with Susan Sontag in hell. You'll be having Bovril broth by straw via nostril.
John Derbyshire, who has been fighting for the award for a long time, finally earned it today with this article at National Review Online.
Conservatives, Mr. Derbyshire, don't take on responsibilities and then dump them when their feet get a little damp. You're not a conservative, sir. You're a sideways punk who talks like a man with a paper asshole.
May you be chained to a metal chair with your mouth taped while forced to eat dinner with Susan Sontag in hell. You'll be having Bovril broth by straw via nostril.
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