The friend who tells me I’m a selfish ass
is drunk, so maybe I should let it pass
before his acid eats out my insides,
the torture chamber where my self abides.
It is a clean and comfortable room
with open windows that dispel the gloom,
but there on my imaginary rack
I am my own tormenter, wearing black.
Postliberalism and Theology
After my musings about postliberalism went to the press last month (“What Does “Postliberalism” Mean?”, January 2026),…
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Gian Lorenzo Bernini had only just turned twenty when he finished his sculpture of Aeneas, the mythical…
The Clash Within Western Civilization
The Trump administration’s National Security Strategy (NSS) was released in early December. It generated an unusual amount…