Coups and Consequences

On November 2, 1963, South Vietnamese military officers murdered their president of nine years, Ngo Dinh Diem, and took control of the nation's government. The American hand was invisible at the time, but regime change came to fruition only because of active encouragement by the U.S. ambassador, who believed that a coup would improve South Vietnam's war effort. In the months that followed, however, South Vietnam experienced a succession of coups and countercoups, whose debilitating effects drew the United States further into the Vietnam war. As the crisis intensified, South Vietnamese and American participants raged against one another about the merits and consequences of deposing Diem. Although most of those individuals are no longer with us, the debate and some of its ardor have survived.

The post Coups and Consequences appeared first on .

You’re Not a Monkey’s Uncle

I know nothing about primate anthropology, but I did know a primate anthropologist. She took me into the rainforests of southern Uganda, where we spent several afternoons lurking in the shrubbery and watching a troop of chimpanzees. When we got too close to the mothers and babies, the males chimped out. They got up on their hind legs, bared their teeth, howled like extras from Tarzan, and started bounding toward us. To avoid a savaging, we mimicked subordinate chimpanzee behavior. This requires no scientific expertise, though experience of male pattern baldness may help. You look down in shame and repeatedly stroke your pate from back to front as though trying to glue down the strands of a combover in a high wind. If that doesn’t work, run your other hand over your eyes and nose as though wiping that smirk off your simian face before you make one of the alphas come down there and do it for you.

The post You’re Not a Monkey’s Uncle appeared first on .

Tyranny Through Technology

George Orwell, in his immortal 1946 essay "The Prevention of Literature," delineates a distinction between two types of attackers of intellectual freedom, both real but one in a sense more real than the other. "On the one side," he writes, "are its theoretical enemies, the apologists of totalitarianism, and on the other its immediate, practical enemies, monopoly and bureaucracy." This distinction is at least as useful in the age of Trump and social media.

The post Tyranny Through Technology appeared first on .

Brothers in Arms

Writing a novel after spending years writing nonfiction is no easy trick. Trust me, I know. My hard drive is littered with stories never shared. My next book, if I do finish it, will be another nonfiction tome. Completing a novel, or even a novella, feels to me a bit like becoming a ballet dancer after spending decades running cross country.

The post Brothers in Arms appeared first on .

SCORN IN THE USA: Bruce has no use for Trump-voting fans



Bruce Springsteen has a severe case of Kimmel-itis.

Former “Man Show” host Jimmy Kimmel once told a journo he wasn’t worried about losing Republican viewers due to his hard-left shift. “Not good riddance but riddance,” the lachrymose late-nighter quipped.

The Council on American-Islamic Relations is furious about the Trump-Kennedy Center’s choice for the Mark Twain Prize for Humor.

Now, the 76-year-old Boss is singing a similar tune. He’s hitting the road for a new, anti-Trump tour, complete with official No Kings messaging and, hopefully, lots of fiber in his tour bus fridge. And he doesn’t care if he sheds fans along the way.

“I don’t worry about if you’re going to lose this part of your audience. I’ve always had a feeling about the position we play culturally, and I’m still deeply committed to that idea of the band. The blowback is just part of it. I’m ready for all that.”

His shrinking fan base might not be ready for those sky-high ticket prices

Best Actor

Josh Duhamel isn’t an A-list star, but he’s got a mindset his peers might consider.

The “Shotgun Wedding” alum is taking them to task about their political posturing. Shut up and act, he suggested, although he phrased it in a more genteel manner. Why? They might stay employed if they do, which is a bigger issue in today’s shrinking Hollywood.

“I have real strong opinions about things, but I don’t really talk about them. … Why would I alienate half my audience? Because I respect their views on things, but I’m not going to preach to them. They can believe what they want.”

Somewhere, Johnny Carson is smiling …

RELATED: UNCANNY VAL: Val Kilmer makes creepy AI 'comeback' one year after death

Feature China/Michael Ochs Archives/CBS Photo Archives/Archive Photos/Getty Images

Next-Files

The truth is out there, but will anybody recognize it?

That “X-Files” reboot from Oscar winner Ryan Coogler is moving forward, and we know who the two main actors will be — Himesh Patel and Danielle Deadwyler. Are they the new Mulder and Scully?

No.

So if there’s no Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny, and the new leads are playing fresh characters, what makes it an “X-Files” joint, to borrow Spike Lee’s phrase? The show’s original creator, Chris Carter, is an executive producer on the project, which often is a glorified credit given out of respect, not hands-on involvement.

To Hollywood, it really doesn’t matter. It’s all about brand recognition and familiar IPs. All we know is there better be a man smoking somewhere, or you’ll see riots in Nerdville ...

I don't CAIR; do you?

Oooh, CAIR is mad.

The Council on American-Islamic Relations is furious about the Trump-Kennedy Center’s choice for the Mark Twain Prize for Humor. It’s Bill Maher, the HBO host and veteran stand-up comic who refuses to ignore Islam’s problematic headlines.

Maher is an equal-opportunity offender when it comes to religion. He even made a movie about it. Since most celebrities steer clear of Islam in general, his comments stand out. CAIR even shared a fiercely worded statement on the selection.

“Mr. Maher would have never received this recognition if he were an antisemitic comedian who supported terrorism against Jewish-Americans or Israelis, but his open bigotry against Muslims and support for the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza are somehow perfectly acceptable.”

CAIR didn’t point to any incendiary Maher riffs, according to the Hollywood Reporter, but the organization said he supports Israel and has attacked Hamas as “evil.” Evil? Now, where would Maher get that idea …

Sweeney's salute

If you thought leftists hated Sydney Sweeney already, this will send them over the edge.

The “Euphoria” star enraged progressives last year by joking about the words “genes” and “jeans” in an American Eagle ad. White supremacist, they cried, revealing more about themselves than anything Sweeney actually did.

The starlet took the blowback in stride, as did American Eagle, which watched its stock prices soar thanks to the commercial.

Now, Sweeney is toasting her little brother, who is serving in the U.S. military overseas. And she’s extending her good wishes to the men and women doing the same.

"Thinking of all our boys and girls overseas and sending my love! Thank you for your service :)."

Meanwhile, late-night comedians are skewering the U.S. over its decision to topple Iranian despots, and stars like Javier Bardem want the war that stopped the mass slaughter of Iranian citizens stopped at all costs.

Clearly, Sweeney has gone too far.

Hollywood Is Still Trying To Corrupt J. R. R. Tolkien’s Work

Under the pen of someone like Colbert, the upcoming Lord of the Rings spinoff will almost certainly corrupt Tolkien’s work and reduce it to nothing more than pop culture slop

Watch 'The Last Whites of the East End': The BBC documentary they want you to forget



The British East End has long stood as the beating heart of London’s working class — famous for its docks, bustling markets, pie and mash shops, and the unbreakable Cockney spirit.

That all changed during the ten years of Tony Blair’s government, which, driven by a zealous doctrine of multiculturalism, threw open Britain’s borders. As Blair’s own former speechwriter bluntly put it, this was designed to "rub the right’s nose in diversity." The result has been a demographic upheaval so swift and far-reaching that today the traditional East Ender is often spoken of as an endangered species.

The most visible sign of this transformation is in local schools. In many East End primary schools, white British children are now a minority.

The 2016 BBC documentary "Last Whites of the East End" brought that shift into public view. A decade on, it plays less like reportage than elegy — a stark record of a culture on the brink of disappearance.

Wholesale displacement

It is telling, if not entirely surprising, that the documentary is no longer available to stream on BBC iPlayer, as if the establishment would rather erase this uncomfortable chapter and its role in it. For this is not a case of natural urban evolution, but the direct result of policy-driven mass immigration, the emergence of parallel societies, and the wholesale displacement of the native population.

The numbers tell part of the story. According to the 2011 Census, white British residents became a minority in London for the first time. Writer David Goodhart noted that between 2001 and 2011, London’s white British population fell by more than 600,000. London has always absorbed newcomers — but the speed of change, he argued, was something different.

In boroughs like Newham, the shift is especially stark. By the time the documentary was filmed, white British residents made up just 16.7% of the population. For those interviewed, these figures are not abstract — they map onto the disappearance of institutions that once anchored daily life: working men’s clubs, markets, churches.

Cockney migration

Cockney identity was never just an accent. It was a dense web of family ties, shared references, and a particular way of navigating life in the city. For Americans, the closest analogue might be the “Old Brooklyn” archetype — a tight-knit, working-class culture forged in proximity and sustained over generations. Today, much of that culture has migrated outward, into Essex towns like Romford and Basildon.

Politicians often frame this movement as upward mobility — a sign that people are leaving for bigger homes and better prospects. But that explanation only partially captures what residents themselves describe. For many, the change is less like opportunity than dislocation. It is not aspiration that drives so-called "white flight," but the recognition that the neighborhood has become unrecognizable.

Walk through Whitechapel Market today, and the shift is unmistakable. The rhythms of Cockney traders — the coster cries that once defined the place — have largely faded. In their place, the call to prayer from the nearby East London Mosque carries across the market five times a day, an audible sign of how profoundly the area has changed. When pubs are converted into mosques or community centers, and when English is seldom heard on the street, the social glue that once held a working-class community together begins to dissolve.

Socially engineered segregation

The rapid demographic changes in East London are not an accident of history — they are the result of intentional government policy. Decades of uncontrolled immigration, combined with imported antiquated customs that discouraged assimilation, have led to the formation of ethnic enclaves. Rather than socially engineering a liberal utopia, these circumstances have produced segregated communities where different ethnic groups live side by side but rarely interact.

In some migrant communities in East London, consanguineous (cousin) marriage remains prevalent, leading to serious public health problems that mainstream media often ignore. In areas like Newham and Tower Hamlets, rates of infant mortality and congenital disabilities are much higher than the national average.

A 2023 study found that British Pakistanis, who make up about 3% of all U.K. births, accounted for nearly one-third of all British children born with genetic disabilities — a direct result of intra-family marriage. A 2017 report revealed that one in five infant deaths in the east London borough of Redbridge was linked to marriages between first cousins or closer. This practice reinforces loyalty to the biraderi (clan) rather than the nation and seriously slows integration.

RELATED: Pakistani cousin marriage has no place in UK

Bloomberg/Getty Images

Tongue-tied

The most visible sign of this transformation is in local schools. In many East End primary schools, white British children are now a minority. In Newham they make up just 5% of students — the lowest in the region.

The documentary features parents like Leanne, who ultimately chose to move her family to Essex. She explained that her daughter was one of only a few white children in her class, making it hard for her to find friends who shared her cultural background.

English is no longer the main language spoken at home for many families in these boroughs. In Newham alone, over 100 languages are spoken, and in many schools, most students speak English as an additional language. While policymakers often praise such diversity, for the remaining white working class, it creates a sense of profound alienation. The everyday sounds of the street have changed, and for elderly residents interviewed in "Last Whites of the East End," not being able to speak to their neighbors is the final blow to their sense of belonging.

Strangers at home

Ten years on, "Last Whites of the East End" no longer looks like a snapshot of a community in transition. It reads as an early record of a transformation that has only accelerated.

As the last white British families move to the edges of Essex, they take with them centuries of London’s heritage, leaving behind ethnic enclaves that, while geographically in England, have become culturally and socially detached from the nation that hosts them.

This is not simply "change." A specific culture — rooted in place, memory, and continuity — is being displaced. What emerges in its place may be called diversity, or progress, or modernity. But for the people who once defined the East End, it is something else entirely: the experience of becoming strangers in what was, until recently, their own home.

Kodachrome and 4 other things I want back from the 20th century



Buckle up, Boomers and Gen Xers, because I’m going to serve you up some nostalgia bait. Stop at the concession booth to pick up your complimentary rose-colored glasses, and don’t feel shy.

Generation X was born between 1965 and 1980. We are the last generation who experienced the real, physical world the way most humans have experienced it. We came along when generational transitions were gradual. We knew our Boomer parents’ music and movie stars, and we know our Silent Generation grandparents’ music and movie stars. As a kid, I knew who the Andrews Sisters were, and I could sing along because my grandmother played their records.

There will be Slant Six engines running in good health long after I’m dead, just as God intended.

Compare to today: The average Gen Z kid has no idea who Michael Jackson, Madonna, or Lucille Ball are. Starting with Millennials, a chasm opened up between generations. People a generation younger asked who some of the most world-famous stars were when they were working and alive just 20 years earlier.

With Gen Z it’s even starker. They were given digital poison in the form of smartphones in their tender years, and the entire cultural landscape fragmented into a billion bespoke Balkan states.

It’s hard to convince young people that some of the technologies from the bad old world of analog were actually superior to what we have today. They don’t believe that phone calls on copper wire were clear and never dropped (it’s true, though). Hilariously, they think film photography was always blurry and little better at capturing detail than an Impressionist painter.

Well, some of these things were better. And I want them back.

1. Kodachrome film

Smith Collection/Gado/Getty Images

I trained as a photographer in college, and that was going to be my career. But then digital came along. I was in romantic love with the hands-on craft that was film photography. When computers took over, I packed it all away because I was in love with silver gelatin emulsions, not silicon chips.

The loss of Kodachrome color slide film was the worst, and I shed real tears when Kodak pulled the plug. There was no color film in history that reproduced color as well as Kodachrome did; there’s a reason Paul Simon wrote the song. He was right.

Kodachrome was actually a black-and-white film with no built-in dyes like all other color films. Instead it captured the blue, red, and green light on three layers in the film separately. The color dyes were added during the wet chemical processing, and those dyes were richer and more time-stable than ordinary color film. This is why a Kodachrome slide from the 1940s looks like a high-quality photograph taken today — there’s no fading or washed-out colors like many of us see in old color photos in our family albums.

It was also the sharpest film with the highest resolution. A scene taken on Kodachrome was reproduced in such detail that looking at the slide was nearly like looking at real life through a window.

Because you’re reading this on a computer screen, you and I can’t see what the slide “really” looks like. It’s mediated by an electronic screen. But you can still see the rich color and fine detail that no other film could achieve.

2. Three-strip Technicolor

People today talk about bright hues looking like “Technicolor,” but few people understand what that really meant. For decades in Hollywood, the patented Technicolor film process was different from every other color film technology, and it reined supreme. Motion pictures shot in Technicolor were brighter and more vivid than any other process. They made real life look like the Land of Oz.

The quality came at a price. Like Kodachrome, Technicolor used black-and-white film, adding stable, rich color dyes later during processing and printing. This made the shooting process difficult. The film was “slow,” requiring so much light on set that actors sometimes got eye damage. They certainly sweat a lot.

Technicolor cameras ran three separate strips of black-and-white motion picture film through the camera at the same time. A “beam splitter” separated the light into red, green, and blue, directing one color only to each of the three strips of film. The cameras were heavy and needed to be sound-baffled during a shoot.

Striking the final print for projection required precision machines that could line up each of the three strips of film in perfect registration to lay down cyan, yellow, and magenta dyes. It took precision-machining, skill, time, and money. That’s why the process was abandoned when cheaper, easier all-in-one color motion picture film became available.

But that’s also why the Technicolor process was so beloved that songs were written about it. This is from the Technicolor production "Silk Stockings" with Janis Paige singing to Fred Astaire.

3. Air-cooled Volkswagen engines

I went outside to play in 1978 and came upon my stepfather on his knees behind the 1967 beige VW bug that was our family car. “God — son of a *@^%!” he cussed as the engine cranked and cranked and wouldn’t fire up. He was trying to gap the points in the distributor, a job he was never good at. I learned to do it decades later from a classic butch lesbian, and it didn’t seem that hard to me.

My stepdad was doing this because that’s what normal people did in those days. You tuned up your own car. Most dads had a toolset and the know-how to do car maintenance at home. Repairs were less expensive, and you didn’t have to have a computer technician “scan” your engine to figure out what the bloody computer thought was wrong with it.

Sure, the old VWs were simple and had few features. The heaters were so bad that winter driving required an ice scraper for the inside of the windscreen. The bugs were tiny compared to modern cars, but you could get a surprising amount in there if you were clever.

Sure, they were light (some people call them death traps), but that was great when my mother went off a snowy road in Upstate New York, and four boys from the local college fraternity just picked it up out of the ditch and set it back on the road.

I’d give anything to hear that musical, metallic tinkle of the exhaust pipes on America’s roads today.

4. The Chrysler Slant Six engine

If you know, you know. America never built a more durable engine than the famous Chrysler Slant Six. The engine got its name because the designers tilted it 30 degrees to fit the block under the lower, sleeker hoods that became stylish in the early 1960s.

This six-cylinder may not have had the raw horsepower of a big block V8, but it produced a surprising amount of oomph for its size, and it was an engine that never died. If you’ve owned one, you can hear the sewing machine-like purr and tick in your mind.

We had two Slant Six-powered family cars growing up. As an adult, I’ve had a Dodge Dart and a Plymouth Belvedere powered by this motor. There’s no better way to spend an afternoon than adjusting the valves on a Slant Six while it’s running. I miss how easy it was to work on these engines, made in the days when you could move around under the hood and adjust something without taking off 15 components just to get enough room to put a finger in the engine bay.

There will be Slant Six engines running in good health long after I’m dead, just as God intended.

RELATED: My 1966 Plymouth Belvedere let her 225 Slant-6 do the talking

NBC/Getty Images

5. Customer service

This is a social technology that needs to make a comeback. My first jobs as a teenager were running the cash register at a Wegman’s grocery store and bringing burgers to tables at a Big Boy restaurant. Friendly, efficient customer service was mandatory. It was expected by every customer and every employer.

You were to greet customers with a friendly hello and an offer to help. Smiles were either compulsory or strongly encouraged. If a customer needed to find an item, you found it for them and walked them over to the right aisle.

What do you get today when you walk into any retail store? Dead-eyed, silent stares from any staff younger than 35. Need to find a pipe fitting in a big store like Lowe’s? Try asking. You’ll get, “Um ... a what? If we had any, they’d be, like, over there,” as “Jonas” waves in a northeasterly direction.

Surprisingly, a young clerk at my local McDonald's reminded me of the good old days of customer service last week. Like so many places, McDonald's is making its restaurants hostile to humans. In addition to the ugly, gray, brutalist “updated” architecture, the lobbies are crammed with touch-screen kiosks, while the staffed registers have been reduced to one or two maximum. As recently as 15 years ago, McDonald's had a reputation for employing staff that were neater, tidier, and friendlier than the competition.

That’s gone now — except for this one young man at my local McD's. I walked past the kiosks and up to the register, expecting to be ignored for five minutes as is now McDonald’s standard. “Jeff” was about 22. His shirt was tucked in. He was neatly groomed. He smiled at me and said, “Welcome to McDonald's; how are you today?” He meant it. He was looking me in the eye. I was so pleasantly surprised I thought I was dreaming, and I made a point to thank him for being human and polite.

The other day, I saw this old early '80s commercial for McDonald’s Shamrock Shake. Take a look, and try not to tear up. If you’re 35 or under, you probably think the chipper and upbeat tone looks “fake.” You may not believe anyone ever acted that way. You might even find this level of cheer “cringe.”

Well, it was like that. I was there. And I want it back.

Polymarket’s D.C. Pop-Up Bar Brought Young People Together To Collectively Ignore Each Other

The clearest sign of the Situation Room's failure was the people who left because Polymarket abandoned the human experience.

Dreary 'Saturday Night Live: UK' is dead on arrival



It took less than a minute. Not for the show to find its rhythm — that never arrived — but for viewers to reach for the remote.

A more generous critic would say "Saturday Night Live: UK" stumbled out of the gate. Someone actually grounded in reality would say it arrived DOA, was resuscitated by optimism, flatlined again during the opening credits, and spent the rest of its run time as evidence that nobody in the commissioning process had ever actually watched British television.

The live format, in particular, punishes British reserve. The Brits, much like the Irish, don't do collective euphoria on command.

The opening sketch — a Downing Street caricature so limp that it needed medical attention — felt like it was written by people who had heard of the place the way most people have heard of Uzbekistan: aware that it exists, entirely unclear on the details. Keir Starmer reduced to a bed-wetting schoolboy: accurate enough, but executed with all the surgical precision of a drunk toddler.

Satire requires stones. This was neutered at conception

Fey's lemon

The host was former "SNL" head writer Tina Fey — parachuted in to anchor the spin-off in the history of television's most durable comedy franchise.

Rather than evoking "Saturday Night Live," however, her appearance called to mind "30 Rock" — Fey’s own sitcom about a sketch comedy show flailing within an absurdly corporatized NBC.

She stood there less like a master of ceremonies than like a faintly embarrassed consultant, as if tasked with explaining why this seemingly gratuitous product was actually a masterstroke of synergy and brand extension. You could almost hear the Jack Donaghy pitch behind it: familiar logo, international rollout, scalable format. Somewhere between the greenlighting and the greenroom, the only premise that mattered — making people laugh — had been quietly lost.

The audience noticed immediately. They always do. Forty seconds. One minute. Five, if you were feeling charitable. The reactions weren't angry. They were worse. They were bored. There is no harsher verdict for comedy than indifference.

Stupid and sublime

It wasn’t always this way, of course. "Saturday Night Live" was once genuinely great. Not good. Not fine. Great. Belushi, Aykroyd, Eddie Murphy — dangerous, deranged, alive. Bill Murray doing a sort of dollar-store Sinatra. Chris Farley destroying every piece of furniture within reach. Phil Hartman doing impressions so precise that the subjects should have taken it personally. They probably did.

These were performers who understood that live television was a dare, not a format, and they took it every single week. Comedy that felt like it could go wrong at any moment, and sometimes did, and was better for it. Sharp, stupid, sublime in equal measure.

Those days are long gone — the show swallowed by Trump derangement syndrome and the passive-aggressive ritual of swiping at conservatives until the writers' room mistook a political position for a punch line.

In its prime, it was still political, but at least it was anchored in something real — American culture, fast, furious, and occasionally brilliant. If today's "SNL" is but a degraded facsimile of the show in its prime, this transatlantic fiasco is a facsimile of that facsimile: edges blurred, ink fading, soul entirely absent.

RELATED: 9 must-have devices for detecting leftist threats in your area

CBS Photo Archive/Monika Graff/Getty Images

Fawlty hour

The failure here is structural, not superficial. British comedy is built on irony, understatement, and a very specific species of darkness. "Fawlty Towers." "Brass Eye." "The Office." "I'm Alan Partridge." Comedy that watches you squirm and enjoys it. Comedy that finds the precise point of maximum discomfort and builds a home there. Comedy forged in restraint and bad weather, in class anxiety and institutional distrust, in the particularly British conviction that authority is always, at some level, ridiculous. You cannot import that.

If British comedy runs on slow-burning cringe and the precise calibration of discomfort, the "SNL" format runs on volume — loud, broad, relentlessly American, built around celebrity cameos and political impressions that reset with each news cycle and evaporate by Sunday morning.

Hiring Lorne Michaels doesn't transplant the institution any more than putting a McDonald's in a country farmhouse makes it rural. The live format, in particular, punishes British reserve. The Brits, much like the Irish, don't do collective euphoria on command. They do collective embarrassment, the kind that makes you leave the room on someone else's behalf, change your name, and book a one-way ticket to the aforementioned Uzbekistan.

Nothing much

Crucially, nobody asked for this. Nobody petitioned. Nobody wrote in. Sky's decision to commission eight episodes before a single one had even aired suggests the company was already nervous — hedging against failure by pretending it was a plan.

The deeper problem is one of fundamental incompatibility — a cultural mismatch so obvious that it's almost impressive that no one in the commissioning process named it aloud. Or perhaps they did and were overruled by someone with a spreadsheet. Comedy, at its best, feels dangerous. This felt focus-grouped. Safe. Sanitized. A show that promised the sun, moon, and stars but instead delivered, with full confidence and considerable expense, a urine-scented underpass.

Of course, the next episode could be great. Revelatory. The best television in years. But judging by the first, almost anything else would have been better. Including nothing. Nothing would have been better. Nothing, at least, doesn't waste your Saturday night.