Shop Talk with John Podhoretz

While the shit was hitting the fan at Occupy Wall Street this morning, with reporters getting beaten and writers like Keith Gessen and Sarah Leonard getting arrested, I was fighting the small fight with John Podhoretz, son of Norman, on Twitter.  (D.G Myers, who kicked the whole thing off, is a blogger at Commentary.)

  1. @OccupyWriters—getting arrested for career advancement! RT @jpodhoretz: @alorentzen @nplusonemag I smell GQ first-person article!
    November 17, 2011 12:21:21 PM EST
  2. @myers_dg @OccupyWriters @jpodhoretz @alorentzen @nplusonemag There are less honorable paths to career advancement. Nepotism comes to mind.
    November 17, 2011 1:32:09 PM EST
  3. @CoreyRobin How’s your book doing? Violently well?
    November 17, 2011 1:43:28 PM EST
  4. @jpodhoretz It’s doing fine. Very kind of you to ask.
    November 17, 2011 1:44:30 PM EST
  5. @CoreyRobin May you be blessed with readers as profoundly deep as you.
    November 17, 2011 1:45:31 PM EST
  6. @jpodhoretz The book should be right up your alley then. I’ll put one in the mail to you right away.
    November 17, 2011 2:04:22 PM EST
  7. @CoreyRobin Oh, I had it. I sent it to someone to review, but unfortunately, he thought it…unworthy of serious discussion!
    November 17, 2011 2:05:54 PM EST
  8. @jpodhoretz “Unworthy of serious discussion.” Which is why he declined to review it for Commentary.
    November 17, 2011 2:16:51 PM EST
  9. @CoreyRobin It’s OK. He’s just a terrorist anyway.
    November 17, 2011 2:18:18 PM EST

3 Comments

  1. Deb November 18, 2011 at 1:55 pm | #

    Namecalling and ranting seem like a family traditions with these folks. Here’s John’s half-sister airing her feelings a few weeks ago:

    Then round up [Gilad Shalit’s] captors, the slaughtering, death-worshiping, innocent-butchering, child-sacrificing savages who dip their hands in blood and use women—those who aren’t strapping bombs to their own devils’ spawn and sending them out to meet their seventy-two virgins by taking the lives of the school-bus-riding, heart-drawing, Transformer-doodling, homework-losing children of Others—and their offspring—those who haven’t already been pimped out by their mothers to the murder god—as shields, hiding behind their burkas and cradles like the unmanned animals they are, and throw them not into your prisons, where they can bide until they’re traded by the thousands for another child of Israel, but into the sea, to float there, food for sharks, stargazers, and whatever other oceanic carnivores God has put there for the purpose.

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