Pissing off Christie Blatchford since 2011

iclysdale is home. He's asleep. I'm about to be.

Therefore, more Robertson Davies quotes:

Why are so many people ashamed of having intelligence and using it? There is nothing democratic about such an attitude. To pretend to be less intelligent that one is deceives nobody and begets dislike, for intelligence cannot be hidden; like a cough, it will out, stifle it how you may. No man has ever won commendation for standing at less than his full height, either physically, morally, or intellectually.
...
If you are an intellectual, your best course is to relax and enjoy it.

A Voice from the Attic

There must be times, in the world of business, when two Peale-powered personalities find themselves in opposition. Number One is determined to achieve success by selling Number Two a great gross of non-molting dust mops; Number Two is equally determined not to have the mops. Both have affirmed an equal number of times that he can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth him. What happens? Theologians will scratch their heads over this, and Immensity itself may feel a tremor.

A Voice from the Attic

If people need a book to tell them that in marriage kindness and forbearance are necessary, and that the sexual act is happier when it is undertaken to give pleasure as well as to receive it, these books are what they want. Possibly people so lacking in understanding of themselves and others do not mind being addressed in the coarse, grainy prose of the marriage counselor.

A Voice from the Attic

And, because I was rereading benet's old posts and found it again, an essay on The State Of The Neo-Con Male that is a slapdown of truly surgical precision:

But du Toit’s essay is brilliant in a way he probably never intended—it’s a masterpiece of self-confirmation. His main thesis is that Western males are becoming wimps, and his essay itself proves that there is at least some truth in the thesis; never before in human history has there been so much puling and whining about such inconsequential irritations. Du Toit’s groundless blubbering is, in the end, itself a partial confirmation of his point. In fact, du Toit’s essay probably deserves to spawn a neologism: duToitification and its cognates. You become duToitified when you’ve got it so good that you lose all perspective on the world and as a result exaggerate minor unpleasantries into vexations of Biblican proportions. That is, you become an insufferable weenie.

And some poor orphaned little Yousendit links that have served their original purpose and yet have perfectly good downloads remaining.

Oysterband: Dancing as Fast as I can.
I love this song. I've had it on loop for days. It gives me hope and sadness, both.

John Barrowman: Anything Goes.
Dare you not to smile and sing along. Dare you.