The Post-Partisan Emporium

  Ghosts in the Shadow of the Mouse You can't go home again, but you can never really leave it. Dave Greene We cross the San Fernando Valley in the late afternoon, just as the sun begins to set over Los Angeles. It has been a six-hour ride with nothing much to see, and everyone is ready for a break. My wife wants to see the Hollywood sign, but we don’t have time to take a detour, so instead, we pull off the road to stretch our legs and take in the scenery between a gas station and a bodega, looking out on the city. “This place is strange,” my wife says. “It feels like San Francisco but more so.” L.A. does feel strange. And it’s not just the city. The land around us seems unsettling like an alien spiritual force is, somehow, indelibly baked into the earth and architecture. I have often fancied that the Western part of North America has a strange “memory-less” quality. History happens here, to be sure, but it is never remembered. People come and go, but the landscape does not recall ...

  Last Rites “We spent the weekend feeding USAID into the wood chipper. Could have gone to some great parties. Did that instead.” — Elon Musk James Howard Kunstler “In private meetings and at public events, elected Democrats appear leaderless, rudderless and divided. They disagree over how often and how stridently to oppose Mr. Trump. They have no shared understanding of why they lost the election, never mind how they can win in the future.” —  The New York Times Maybe that’s because the four years of “Joe Biden” was little more than a vaudeville show in front of the curtain, distracting you from what was going on backstage — the world’s biggest political racketeering operation as conducted by a vast bureaucracy gone wild and mad: the blob in florid, mature efflorescence, doing its blob-thing to the max, looting and punking the nation. Now it is all being uncovered, disclosed, unmasked. Think of the Democratic Party as the entertainment arm of the overall operation. Its aim ha...