Walk in the Park
Visit The Hammock Papers.
Commentary by Michael Wade on Leadership, Ethics, Management, and Life
Until you become the sort of person that others want to follow, you are not a true leader.
Kiri Te Kanawa singing Mozart.
He loomed up out of the night. And for an instant there was nothing to distinguish him from it. Then a glint, a reflection from the lantern the woman was holding up close to the horse's nose, attested to a monocle. The man addressed the woman in impeccable Italian, flawed only by certain gutturals that revealed his German mother tongue. There was something fierce and splendid in that face bathed in the swaying lamplight, as if the stars and the dust were met together there.
The problem is that leaders fail to ask often enough the question: What is wrong around here?
A memorable scene from "Young Frankenstein."
Shortly after the occupation of Lublin in 1939 Jewish children had been barred from attending school and private instruction was prohibited. As with all such Nazi directives, disobedience if discovered met with severe punishment, even death.
From The Onion in 2008: Blue Angels hold first-ever open try-outs. An excerpt:
Humans don't mind hardship, in fact they thrive on it; what they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary.
Nino Rota's soundtrack to "The Taming of the Shrew."
Wally Bock: Stories and Strategies from Real Life.
Scholars on both the left and the right make comfortable livings detailing the pathologies of the poor without ever talking with a single poor person.
From Topsy-Turvy: The Mikado explains his enlightened theory of punishment.
He was a little of everything and a little of nothing. He yelled at the right people, didn't yell at the wrong people, didn't fail in his duties, didn't cause surprises or embarrassments. He was just so.
In less than two centuries Americans transformed their nation from a sliver of settlement clinging to a coastline into a globe-girding superpower with historically unparalleled power and influence. Yet to hear Americans tell it, they are the Greta Garbo of nations: they just want to be left alone.
From the 1996 issue of Kentucky Humanities: Charles Thompson on Justice Harlan's great dissent. An excerpt:
A very interesting man.
The French, under the old monarchy, held it for a maxim that the king could do no wrong; and if he did do wrong, the blame was imputed to his advisers. This notion made obedience very easy; it enabled the subject to complain of the law, without ceasing to love and honor the lawgiver. The Americans entertain the same opinion with respect to the majority.
Ricochet: Very interesting. James Pethokoukis looks at the numbers.
I am almost frightened by the vitality these Germans show after what they've undergone. I believe, once they've been given the word GO, they'll have a bridge over the Rhine in three months, and that in a short time their output of steel will be huge.
At Eclecticity Light, of course.
On June 25, 1996, Bill Griffin, age twenty-six, was ambushed in a drive-by shooting and became one of more than 350 young black men who are killed in street violence each year in our nation's capital. Black-on-black murders in Washington, D.C., have become so common that Griffin's death was newsworthy only because he was the last of his mother's four children to be murdered before the age of thirty.
That, and so much more, can be found at The Hammock Papers.
A political discussion at Althouse. The term "fascist" gets tossed around so much nowadays that it seems to have a new definition: "Something I don't like."
How much larger your life could be if your self could become smaller in it.
Author Mark Steyn speaking to the Institute of Public Affairs in Melbourne on the importance of protecting freedom of speech.
For numberless years a myna had astounded travelers to the caravansary with its ability to spew indecencies in ten languages, and before the fight broke out everyone assumed the old blue-tongued devil on its perch by the fireplace was the one who maligned the giant African with such foulness and verve. Engrossed in the study of a small ivory shatranj board with pieces of ebony and horn, and in the stew of chickpeas, carrots, dried lemons and mutton for which the caravansary was renowned, the African held the place nearest the fire, his broad back to the bird, with a view of the doors and the window with its shutters thrown open to the blue dusk. On this temperate autumn evening in the kingdom of Arran in the eastern foothills of the Caucasus, it was only the two natives of burning jungles, the African and the myna, who sought to warm their bones. The precise origin of the African remained a mystery. In his quilted gray bambakion with its frayed hood, worn over a ragged white tunic, there was a hint of former service in the armies of Byzantium, while the brass eyelets on the straps of his buskins suggested a sojourn in the West. No one had hazarded to discover whether the speech of the known empires, khanates, emirates, hordes and kingdoms was intelligible to him. With his skin that was lustrous as the tarnish on a copper kettle, and his eyes womanly as a camel's, and his shining pate with its ruff of wool whose silver hue implied a seniority attained only by the most hardened men, and above all with the air of stillness that trumpeted his murderous nature to all but the greenest travelers on this minor spur of the Silk Road, the African appeared neither to invite nor to promise to tolerate questions. Among the travelers at the caravansary there was a moment of admiration, therefore, for the bird's temerity when it seemed to declare, in its excellent Greek, that the African consumed his food in just the carrion-scarfing way one might expect of the bastard offspring of a bald-pated vulture and a Barbary ape.
Obligatory viewing: Skunk family meets cyclist.
"Give that child plenty of red meat and red wine." - Advice given by family doctor to my grandparents when one of their daughters was anemic.
Many runabout after happiness like an absent-minded man hunting for his hat, while it is in his hand or on his head.