“What is your occupation?”
“Your servants are shepherds,”
they replied to Pharaoh,
“just as our fathers were.”
~ Genesis 47
Șalom și salut, necredincioșilor, fiarelor, și Paisanoviților! Bine ați venit la casa căinței. Priviți coafura zionistă, refractară a Babei Z cum scînteiează, în timp ce ea izgonește pe Curvele Gramsciene, Porcii Fasciști, Papii din Laodicea, și Fiarele prădătoare ale Islamului, dîndu-i pe Mîna Atotputernică a Dumnezeului lui Israel. După ce se va termina de biciuit, se vor servi pișcoturi gramsciene și lapte de capră în salon. Vă rugăm și să gustați din plăcinta ocupației zioniste. L’Chaim!
So unless you are willing to commit suicide for yourself and for this culture, get used to the compromises you will have to make and the eventual capitulation that will come to you. But bloody well don’t do that in my name because I’m not doing it. You surrender in your own name.In a political shift that shocked many of his friends and readers, he cut his ties to The Nation and became an outspoken advocate of the American-led invasion of Iraq in 2003 and a ferocious critic of what he called “Islamofascism.” Although he denied coining the word, he popularized it.
Leave me out of it.
So should our current golden age be indirectly credited to the goldbug Greenspan himself, or to the tempestuous libido of Ayn Rand, or perhaps to the once jailed Charles Keating?
...on the left's hypocrisySneaking Into Iraq With Hitchens
To say literature mattered to him would be like saying he greatly enjoyed inhaling and exhaling. It was necessity, not luxury – a refuge and a brace against randomness and Bastards HQ. So with the void he’s thoughtlessly left, I’m reminded of a few more lines, ones Christopher sent me just a short time after our travels together when his friend and editor, the Atlantic’s Michael Kelly, died near Baghdad. They’re from his beloved First World War poet, Wilfred Owen, and Hitchens would probably shudder with horror and humility that I’d dare apply them to this occasion. But if he can witness my crime from beyond, then he has a lot of explaining to do. And so I expect there’ll be silence on his end, sadly:"I became a journalist partly so that I wouldn't ever have to rely on the press for my information."
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls’ brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk, a drawing-down of blinds.
“You will behave, won’t you?” Carol anxiously asked Christopher on the way into the club. No dice. When the headwaiter approached, Christopher demanded: “Do you have a kosher menu?”Q&A Special: Christopher Hitchens, 1949-2011
Perhaps his formal moment of departure from the political left came when he was summoned to answer for his deviations before the editors of The Nation in 2002. He rode the train up from Washington, sat at the long conference room table to await the interrogation – and lit up a cigarette in defiance of all no-smoking ordinances. What was there to be said after that?
If Christopher quit the left, however, he never joined the right. Like his great hero George Orwell, he was a man whose most creative period of life was a period of constantly falling between two stools: his new hatred for George Galloway never dimmed his old animosity toward Henry Kissinger. He was for the Iraq war without ever much trusting or liking the leaders who led that war. The stock phrase of the 2000s on the right was “moral clarity.” If moral clarity means hating cruelty and oppression, then Christopher Hitchens was above all things a man of moral clarity. But he was also a man of moral complexity, who would not submit to Lenin’s demand that who says A must say B. Christopher was never more himself than when – after saying A – he adamantly refused to say B.
— "Christopher Hitchens was a complete one-off, an amazing mixture of writer, journalist, polemicist, and unique character. "He was fearless in the pursuit of truth and any cause in which he believed. And there was no belief he held, that he did not advocate with passion, commitment and brilliance. He was an extraordinary, compelling and colorful human being whom it was a privilege to know."
— former British Prime Minister Tony Blair.
— "Christopher Hitchens was everything a great essayist should be: infuriating, brilliant, highly provocative and yet intensely serious. "I worked as an intern for him years ago. My job was to fact check his articles. Since he had a photographic memory and an encyclopedic mind it was the easiest job I've ever done."
— Britain's Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg.
— "Goodbye, my beloved friend. A great voice falls silent. A great heart stops. Christopher Hitchens, April 13, 1949-December 15, 2011."
— author Salman Rushdie in a post on his Twitter page.
— "I think he was one of the greatest orators of all time. He was a polymath, a wit, immensely knowledgeable, and a valiant fighter against all tyrants including imaginary supernatural ones." — British author and professor Richard Dawkins.
— "Christopher just swam against every tide. He was supporting the Polish and Czech resistance in the 1970s. He supported Mrs. Thatcher because he thought getting rid of the Argentinian fascist junta was a good idea. ... He was a cross between Voltaire and Orwell. "He would drink a bottle of whisky when I would manage two glasses of wine and then be up in the morning writing 1,000 perfect words. He could throw words up into the sky and they fell down in a marvelous pattern." — British lawmaker Denis Macshane told BBC radio.
— "There will never be another like Christopher. A man of ferocious intellect, who was as vibrant on the page as he was at the bar." — Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter.
— "Right at the very end, when he was at his most feeble as this cancer began to overwhelm him, he insisted on a desk by the window away from his bed at the ICU. It took myself and his son to get him into that chair with a pole and eight lines going into his body, and there he was, a man with only a few days to live, turning out 3,000 words to meet a deadline. And then finishing it and thinking, well maybe I've got an hour or two, I'll write something on Memorial Day in English poetry." — Novelist Ian McEwan told BBC.
Hitchens shows up early (we're a short walk from his house), smoking and wearing his leather bomber jacket even though it's utterly unfit for the cold weather. (I think this is the jacket he's wearing in a photo taken during the American liberation of Iraq, when he passed out cigarettes to the newly un-Baath'd Iraqis.) Hitchens keynotes the event by singing Tom Lehrer's "Christmas Carol" a cappella.
If God doesn’t strike him first, 58-year-old Christopher Hitchens may be doomed by his cherished vices. In “On the Limits of Self-Improvement, Part I,” the smoke-wreathed, scotch-fueled author writes about taking his first step on the road to rehabilitation, at a high-end spa. Here, an extended look at this unlikely makeover. Related: On the Limits of Self-Improvement, Part II,” and “On the Limits of Self-Improvement, Part III.”
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If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.~ Leviticus 20:13