Latest news with #NationalReview
Washington Post
21 hours ago
- Business
- Washington Post
Why conservatives should be rooting for NPR and PBS
Dominic Pino is the economics editor and Thomas L. Rhodes fellow at National Review and host of the American Institute for Economic Research podcast 'Econception.' After decades of complaining about it, Republicans have finally cut federal spending for public broadcasting. The $9 billion rescissions package that President Donald Trump signed last Thursday removed funding for the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (CPB), which supports PBS and NPR, for fiscal 2026 and 2027.
Washington Post
23-07-2025
- Business
- Washington Post
How foreign leaders should respond to Trump's tariff threats
Dominic Pino is the economics editor and Thomas L. Rhodes fellow at National Review and host of the American Institute for Economic Research podcast 'Econception.' Whether the Aug. 1 deadline for President Donald Trump's tariffs is actually binding remains to be seen — remember, April 2 was supposed to be 'Liberation Day' — but foreign leaders must be thinking about how they'll respond. In many cases, they've already threatened to react in kind and are weighing new tariffs on everything from Pennsylvania steel to Kentucky bourbon.
Telegraph
12-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
Cancelled by both the Left and Right, Lena Dunham was one of the most hated women on the internet
On October 29 2014, 'voice of her generation' Lena Dunham, creator and star of era-defining show Girls, became a white-hot pawn in the emerging culture wars. She remains one, over a decade later, with her first new TV show in seven years, having also become one of the most controversial and divisive figures in the pop culture canon. The politicisation of the now 39-year-old Dunham began with a caustic profile in the conservative magazine The National Review, interrogating passages from her best-selling memoir, Not That Kind of Girl, published the month prior following a reported $3.7 million advance. Girls, which followed the chaotic lives of aspiring writer Hannah (Dunham) and her three friends in New York City across six seasons and was praised as the more relatable follow-up to Sex and the City, had earned a slew of awards since its 2012 premiere, and had made Dunham one of America's most famous and influential women by the tender age of 25. The National Review, which put a picture of Lena Dunham on the cover, ran with the headline: 'Pathetic privilege: the coming of age of Lena Dunham.' Throughout the piece, writer Kevin D Williamson criticises Dunham's libertarian, middle-class parents for indulging her as a child (her mother is famed photographer Laurie Simmons and her father is the artist Carroll Dunham, who paints nudes) while accusing her, and her hit show, of entitlement and privilege. It was this liberal entitlement, suggests Williamson, that emboldened Dunham to breezily write about an interaction with her younger sister that Williamson deems 'sexual abuse'. In said memoir, Dunham writes that, aged seven, 'curiosity got the best' of her and she opened her then-one-year-old sister's vagina to see if it looked like hers. Later, she recalls bribing her sister with sweets for kisses, touching herself while the duo shared a bed, and likening her own behaviour to that of a 'sexual predator'. Williamson judged the incident to be 'the sort of thing that gets children taken away from non-millionaire families without Andover pedigrees and Manhattanite social connections.' His argument was crystal clear: Dunham was a deluded, arrogant, entitled brat and a product of hyper-privileged, Left-wing feminism. A few hours after the profile's publication, another Right-wing (now defunct) media outlet, Truth Revolt, helmed by Ben Shapiro, published a piece headlined: 'Lena Dunham Describes Sexually Abusing Her Little Sister.' The piece contained a crucial typo: referring to seven-year-old Dunham as 17, shading the interaction with her sister a violently different hue. The story exploded, with thousands of think-pieces and social media posts across the political spectrum questioning whether Dunham had, or had not, molested her sister. A few days later, Dunham attempted to put out the flames with a statement in Time magazine, in which she expressed 'dismay' for the 'interpretation' of her memoir, while also apologising for trivialising sexual abuse with the mocking use of the words 'sexual predator'. There were reports of her lawyers threatening action against Truth Revolt for defamation. I told a story about being a weird 7 year old. I bet you have some too, old men, that I'd rather not hear. And yes, this is a rage spiral. — Lena Dunham (@lenadunham) November 1, 2014 However, it wasn't long before Dunham was tending to an altogether different fire, also kindled by Williamson's profile in the National Review, which took issue with the claim in Dunham's memoir of rape. Dunham wrote of having been raped at an Oberlin College party by a 'mustachioed campus Republican' named Barry – she had drunkenly consented to sex, but the sex turned 'very rough', and Dunham realised 'Barry' was not wearing a condom; the sex became unconsensual. Williamson sympathised with Republican Barry as someone 'whose life is no doubt being turned upside down by a New York Times No. 1 best-seller containing half-articulated accusations that he raped a woman in college, accusations that are easily connected to him… She wouldn't face him in a court of law, but she'll lynch him in print'. By December, had published a 4,400-word piece arguing that, not only had identifiable details in the memoir falsely pointed the finger at an innocent man, actually there was no 'Barry' at Oberlin who fitted her description, claiming Dunham's story to be fabricated. A few months later, Dunham's publisher Penguin Random House had agreed to amend future copies of the memoir to make it clear that 'Barry' was a pseudonym. But Breitbart argued in a follow-up piece that 'by falsely identifying her rapist as a Republican, Dunham used the horror of sexual assault as a political gotcha game'. Over the next few years, with the rise of cancel culture, Dunham's name bounced between the political Left and Right like a hot potato. In 2017, when HBO's Girls came to an end, she was both the 'voice of a generation' and a 'mouthpiece of posh Left-wing millennials'. But the show had also begun to divide the Left: some praised its relatability, humour, and insight into the millennial female experience; others derided it for being out of touch, tawdry, and embarrassingly monoethnic. It actually wasn't a dialogue - it was just me agreeing that the Hollywood system is rigged in favor of white people and that my career took off at a young age with relative ease, ease I wasn't able to recognize because I also didn't know what privilege was. — Lena Dunham (@lenadunham) June 29, 2020 Everything about Dunham seemed to be up for dissection: from her upbringing to her pay cheque, famous friends including Taylor Swift and, most frequently, her body. Her bare curves were almost always on display in Girls's purposefully unvarnished sex scenes, bringing a verisimilitude to full-frontal nudity that felt a long way from Hollywood's long-held conventional beauty standards. To some, this felt transgressive, or simply 'wrong'. In 2019, Howard Stern viciously described Dunham as 'a little fat girl who looks like Jonah Hill' and Girls's sex scenes as feeling 'like rape'. In that 2014 profile in the National Review, Williamson spends a few paragraphs picking apart Dunham's weight. Despite being the clear victim of cruel fatphobia and misogyny, Dunham's tendency to haul herself over the coals, before posting an inevitable Twitter apology, started to tire even her most fervent supporters. In 2017, Dunham found herself at the centre of another sexual abuse scandal, except this time, the alleged perpetrator was one of her colleagues, Murray Miller, a writer for Girls who was accused of raping actress Aurora Perrineau when she was 17-years-old. After the allegations emerged, Dunham issued a joint statement with her Girls co-creator Jenni Konner to The Hollywood Reporter, decrying Perrineau's claim as one of 'the three per cent of assault cases that are misreported every year'. The statement provoked a major backlash from those on the Left, with many quoting one of Dunham's old tweets, in which she'd written: 'Things women do lie about: what they ate for lunch. Things women don't lie about: rape.' Dunham and Konner apologised, writing that they regretted their decision to defend Murray 'with every fiber of [their] being'. Miller, who denied the claims at the time, was not charged. — Lena Dunham (@lenadunham) November 19, 2017 In fact, so frequent were Dunham's public apologies that a Twitter bot, @lenadunhamapols, began posting satirical versions of them. The New York Times once described her as an 'actor, writer, director, controversy creator'. She was even accused of cruelty to animals after she returned her pet dog, Lamby, to a pet shelter after four years of ownership, after claiming he had behavioural issues and a history of abuse, which the shelter disputed. Dunham hired security guards to combat the litany of death threats. No wonder, then, that Dunham has spent the last seven years keeping a low profile. Following the breakup of her five-year relationship with music producer Jack Antonoff (famous for his work with Taylor Swift) in 2018, she largely abandoned social media and shifted her focus to film, with credits including the middlingly reviewed Sharp Stick, and a medieval comedy, Catherine Called Birdy. She went to rehab for an addiction to benzodiazepines and treated a number of chronic health issues, including Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, a group of disorders that affect connective tissues, and endometriosis, which eventually led to a hysterectomy. Then came love: in 2021, Dunham married the musician Luis Felber and moved to the UK. Her new home is the inspiration for her new Netflix show, Too Much, airing 13 years after Girls's pilot. Set in London, the 10-part, semi-autobiographical Netflix series follows Jessica (Hacks's Megan Stalter), an ad exec in her mid-30s reeling from a brutal breakup. After leaving New York on a somewhat ill-advised whim, she takes a stab at making a fresh start on British soil, and finds herself caught up in a dizzying romance with enigmatic and fickle musician Felix (Will Sharpe). Judging by the fevered anticipation and its ludicrously starry cast (Richard E Grant, Stephen Fry, Andrew Scott, Rita Wilson), Too Much is likely to thrust Dunham back into the limelight. But getting to this point has been a long, and perpetually winding, road for the generational talent who started therapy aged nine. The new show has prompted a renewed, and more measured, assessment of her provocative career, while Dunham has used her extensive press tour to acknowledge Girls's flaws, while setting the record straight on a few things. For instance she denied criticisms that Girls contained 'hipster racism', telling the Independent: 'I think one of the profound issues around Girls was that there was so little real estate for women in television that if you had a show called Girls, which is such a monolithic name, it sounds like it's describing all the girls in all the places. And so if it's not reflecting a multitude of experiences, I understand how that would be really disappointing to people.' Yet for all its flaws, Girls paved the way for a new kind of womanhood that hadn't yet been showcased on screen. None of the four central characters – narcissistic Hannah, self-absorbed Marnie, naive Shoshanna and chaotic yet stylish Jessa – could be pigeonholed; there was no 'ditzy one', no 'sex-obsessed one', and definitely no 'sensible one'. These were unflattering portraits of women whose complexities were laid bare from the outset. And yet, even though we didn't necessarily like them, we related to them. This grubby verisimilitude manifested in many memorable moments, from a frank depiction of abortion in season four's Close Up to the predatory novelist who comes onto Hannah in American B---h. Episodes like these are often cited by Girls's increasingly large Gen-Z fanbase. 'American B---h stands out to me,' says Evan Lazarus, co-host of the Girls Rewatch podcast. 'It told a nuanced story before the MeToo movement even began and still holds up today – emotionally honest, beautifully written, and uncomfortable in all the right ways', which might be why the show has enjoyed a new lease of life with Gen Z after trending on TikTok in 2023. Still, few would go so far as to call Girls the feminist masterpiece it's occasionally held up as. 'Today, feminist discourses are more attuned to intersectionality, privilege, and systems of power in a way that Girls often failed to engage meaningfully, particularly around race, class, and inclusion,' says Professor Meredith Nash, co-editor of Reading Lena Dunham's Girls: Feminism, Postfeminism, Authenticity and Gendered Performance in Contemporary Television. Today's Girls fans seem to be drawn in by a sense of nostalgia. 'Girls was made in a very specific cultural moment – pre-MeToo, pre-Roe being overturned, and during the relative optimism of the Obama era and you can feel that in the tone and freedom of the storytelling,' says Amelia Ritthaler, who co-hosts the Girls Rewatch podcast with Lazarus. 'Things like intimacy coordinators weren't standard practice yet. But rather than making it feel outdated, those elements highlight how much the show was pushing boundaries in real-time.' Too Much is a brilliant, and carefully written, return to form. Dunham's acerbic voice is still there, providing astute social observation, but it feels softer, leading with compassion. It's ultimately a love story. And while it won't fill the void Girls left, or the one Sex and the City left before that, it is arguably impossible to capture the millennial female experience in the same way any more. We're too siloed by political upheaval, environmental angst, and social media echo chambers. Would Girls get made today? Probably not, when you consider the ongoing struggles within the TV and film industries to promote diverse storytelling. But that doesn't undermine its value, which was rooted in its unflinching depiction of sex, women's bodies, and its highly unlikeable but relatable protagonists. Not to mention the astute lens through which it examined the nuances of female friendship. Girls's shortcomings aside, it's unclear where the visceral opprobrium for Dunham came from. She was, at one time, one of the most hated people on the internet, spawning daily diatribes, take-downs and op-eds. There was nothing she could do right. It would be lazy to put this down to mere misogyny; famous women all face that same curse at one point or another. Perhaps it's that Dunham didn't conform to what was expected of her. She spoke more freely, shared more openly, and laid bare her flaws and failings on a stage far more visible than most. I also suspect some people just didn't like the way she looked. It's why she didn't take on a lead role in Too Much: 'Physically, I was just not up for having my body dissected again,' she told The New Yorker. As for whether or not Dunham is a feminist role model, well, 'if it's about embodying perfect politics, probably not,' says Nash. 'But if it's about taking creative risks, putting imperfect female stories on screen, and weathering intense public scrutiny while continuing to create, she can serve as an example of vulnerability, resilience, and the costs of public feminist leadership.' That sounds like a role model to me.
France 24
04-07-2025
- Business
- France 24
'You'll never walk alone': Football world mourns Diogo Jota
Papers are reacting to Trump 's "Big, Beautiful Bill", which he's set to sign this Friday, July 4, which is US Independence Day. The bill will cut major welfare programmes and add trillions of dollars to the national debt. The Washington Post calls it one of the most consequential and expensive economic legacies in modern American presidential history. The Wall Street Journal takes us through how the bill managed to pass the finish line. Trump used his executive authority to made deals to avoid the bill heading back to the Senate. He agreed to explore new tariffs on parts used in wind turbines in a bid to placate conservative Republicans who wanted greater limits on renewable energies. The Journal notes that his "vague promises and cajoling" paid off, with the House passing the bill on Thursday. It also underscores his iron grip on the Republican Party. In the conservative press, the Washington Times is hailing "big, beautiful wins." The sweeping tax cut legislation caps a "summer of victories" for Trump, it says. The National Review calls the bill's passage a significant conservative policy win that will make permanent the "meat of the Tax Cuts and Jobs Act of 2017", in reference to a bill passed during Trump's first term in office. The magazine celebrates a provision defunding planned parenthood from Medicaid but laments that it's pared back to just a one-year restriction. It does say, however, that the failure to get spending under control will come back to "haunt any Republican who wants to be remembered for helping bring our debt under control". In other news, Russia has acknowledged the Taliban as the government of Afghanistan, something a lot of the press is reporting on. The New York Times notes that Russia has become the first country to recognise the Taliban as Afghanistan's government, four years after the group seized control of the country. Russia's recognition is a "significant victory" for the Taliban, the paper says, reminding us that their draconian restrictions on women have made the country a pariah state. The Taliban moved to eradicate opium production in a bid to entice foreign partners, but its refusal on women's rights means it has stayed diplomatically isolated. Last year, China and India appeared to soften towards Afghanistan. The football world is mourning the loss of Diogo Jota, a Portuguese player and Liverpool forward. The 28-year-old and his brother André Silva were killed when the Lamborghini they were travelling in veered off the road in Santander, Spain. Jota was heading back for Liverpool's pre-season training. A Bola, the Portuguese sports paper, goes with a sober black and white photo of Diogo and André and their respective date of births. You'll never walk alone, reads the title in English – a nod to Liverpool FC's slogan. "Forever our number 20", the Liverpool Echo says in an edition featuring several pages dedicated to the footballer. The Guardian also focuses on the terrible accident on its front page. The pair were driving to Santander to catch a ferry back to England because Jota was advised against flying back to England after recent surgery. He had just recently married his partner and was a father of three. Finally, a new study has shown wild orcas appearing to present humans with gifts of food, but it's unclear if this is a gift or an attempt at manipulating us. The Times of London reports on the study which notes 34 examples of this behaviour in six different orca populations, from Norway to New Zealand. The orcas approached people in boats, in the water or on shore, and brought fish, bits of whale, birds, seaweed and even a turtle. They then usually hovered around waiting to see what would happen. In a few cases, the food was picked up, inspected and tossed back. The whales then retrieved and returned the gift. The results were published in a psychology journal and offer some theories about what this behaviour could mean: that the orcas were extending a flipper of friendship and nothing more. Or a darker, "Machiavellian" explanation: it was an attempt to attract a species of prey – us – and kill us but not eat us. With the word killer in their names, you'd be forgiven for being a bit suspicious!
CBS News
27-06-2025
- Politics
- CBS News
Book excerpt: "Buckley: The Life and the Revolution That Changed America"
Random House We may receive an affiliate commission from anything you buy from this article. William F. Buckley (1925-2008), founder of the National Review and host of the TV debate show "Firing Line," was a leading political commentator who catalyzed America's conservative movement with his support of such figures as Joseph McCarthy, Barry Goldwater and Ronald Reagan. In his new biography, "Buckley: The Life and the Revolution That Changed America" (published by Random House), historian Sam Tanenhaus (author of books on Whittaker Chambers and Louis Armstrong) writes about the life and influence of Buckley, whose drive to push America to the right would alter the Republican Party and lead to the rise of Donald Trump. Read an excerpt below, and don't miss Roert Costa's interview with Sam Tanenhaus on "CBS Sunday Morning" June 29! "Buckley: The Life and the Revolution That Changed America" Prefer to listen? Audible has a 30-day free trial available right now. Connecticut Yanquis William F. Buckley, Jr., the intellectual leader of the modern conservative movement, rightly saw himself less as founder than heir. Everything he learned, and all he became, began at home. It started with his father, William F. Buckley, Sr., a lawyer, real estate investor, and oil speculator who grew up in the brush country, the scrubland frontier, of Duval County in South Texas. He was thirty-five and had made his first fortune when, on a visit to New Orleans, he met twenty-two-year-old Aloise Steiner, the eldest of three sisters of Swiss and German background—"the very essence of old New Orleans charm," said one of the many men smitten by her. She had a year or two of college, played Mozart on the piano, and told captivating if not always quite credible stories—for instance, of the fourteen marriage proposals she claimed to have turned down before W.F. Buckley began courting her in the spring of 1917. The physical attraction was immediate, almost electric. Many years later the couple's children remembered the "frisson" that connected their parents. The couple also shared a deep and abiding Catholic faith. After the wedding ceremony at the Steiner family's parish church, Mater Dolorosa on South Carrollton Avenue, on December 29, 1917, the Buckleys began their married life in Mexico. W.F. Buckley had been living there since 1908. He had apartments and law offices in Mexico City as well as in Tampico—the oil boomtown on the Gulf where, after building a prosperous law practice writing oil leases, he had gone into real estate and then into oil, borrowing substantial sums to sink five wells on the banks of the Panuco River. Oil speculation was always a high-risk venture, but especially in Mexico. It was in the throes of the twentieth century's first great revolution, its ten-year-long "bloody fiesta," which ended in 1920 with the rout of the right-wing faction Buckley had supported and the election of a new president he despised. It was a stinging defeat, and he would never get over it. Yet he also could say, and often did—to his children most emphatically—that although he had lost, he had done so on his terms, without giving an inch to the opposition. Other oilmen, including some far wealthier and more powerful than he, had submitted to the new order and made lucrative deals with each fresh regime. W.F. Buckley refused to do it. He left Mexico—in fact was expelled by order of its government—with debts totaling one million dollars. In later years he showed his children a treasured souvenir from those times, an architect's sketch of the grand palacio, with private chapel, which W.F. Buckley had planned to build on substantial property he had purchased in Coyoacan. Bankrupt at age forty, Buckley would have to start all over. He had a family to support, his wife and three small children, now living with his mother and two sisters in Austin, Texas. But there was a new opportunity. In fact, having to put Mexico behind him might be for the best. The oil fields in its Golden Lane were nearly tapped out. The great new oil patch was in Venezuela. Once again there were large profits to be made but also many hazards—in this case "hostile Indian tribes," as well as malaria and fatal "liver and intestinal disorders." Visitors were advised to stay no longer than a few weeks. For W.F. Buckley admonitions were a goad. He went to Venezuela, stayed a full six months, and came back in 1924 with leasing rights to three million acres surrounding Lake Maracaibo, spreading east and west, a complexly organized checker-board whose squares "in practically every instance adjoin properties that are being actively developed by major American oil companies," it was reported at the time. The concession was "rated among the most valuable in Venezuela." Buckley, now based in New York, formed a new company, Pantepec (named for a river in Mexico), and with the sponsorship of the Wall Street broker Edward A. Pierce floated stock shares and secured investments from two California majors: Union Oil and California Petroleum. Matching wits against some of the finest legal minds in the United States, W.F. Buckley worked out the terms for an innovative "farm-out." In return for gaining temporary control of a third of the holdings, the two behemoths would cover the costs of exploration and drilling and reap most of the profits once oil was struck. W.F. Buckley would be allotted a tiny fraction of those profits, and he now had funds to send teams of engineers and geologists to explore the remaining two million acres. Remade as a Wall Street speculator, W.F. Buckley bought a suite of offices on lower Park Avenue and furnished them sumptuously, the better to impress investors. He also bought an apartment building nearby where he stayed alone during the week. Jazz Age Manhattan, with its speakeasies and fleshpots and lurking criminal element, was no place for his wife and growing family. They lived on his third shrewd purchase, a large estate in the rural northwest corner of Connecticut. On Fridays, the work week finished, W.F. Buckley walked a few blocks uptown from his office to Grand Central and rode the train home to his family, three full hours through exurban New York—Westchester, Putnam, and Dutchess counties—all the way to Amenia, where a Buick sat idling with the Black "houseboy," James Cole of New Orleans, behind the wheel in a chauffeur's cap. Together they drove three miles along a country road and, if daylight remained, enjoyed the vista—the wooded Litchfield Hills and the dipping valley, the bright quilt of dairy farms—and then crossed the Connecticut state line at Sharon, a picturesque village of fifteen hundred, incorporated in 1739 and named for the fertile Biblical plain. A favorite weekend and summer getaway for wealthy New Yorkers, Sharon was famous for its narrow elongated green, originally grazing land, which gracefully stretched for more than a mile from its north end—with storefronts and wooden walkways where in summer elms arched overhead, the branches on either side touching to form a canopy—to South Main Street. There, near the town hall and the Hotchkiss Library, stood what is still today Sharon's chief landmark: a granite-and-brownstone clock tower, forty feet high with a pyramid roof, built in the 1880s by the same firm that designed Theodore Roosevelt's Sagamore Hill estate on Oyster Bay, Long Island. On either side of South Main, set back from the street, were large and imposing manor houses. The Buckleys lived in one of them, Number 32, called the Ansel Sterling House after its first owner, a lawyer and judge twice elected to the U.S. House of Representatives in the 1820s. Sterling had purchased the property in 1808 and then torn down the original brick, replacing it with a Georgian frame structure. Over time the ten-acre property had tripled to thirty acres, beautiful and lush, with thick stands of oaks and sugar maples, outbuildings including barn, stables, and icehouse, and horse trails that wound through the rolling pastures and up into the gentle hills beyond. Today Ansel Sterling's house still stands, though much enlarged by W.F. Buckley. Its handsome entrance with pediment and pillars stares across Main Street at Sharon's two historic churches: little Christ Church Episcopal, with its witch-hat spire, and the Congregational church, the town's oldest. In 1923, when W.F. Buckley first toured the property and rented it for the summer, its most striking feature was the elm that towered up from its front lawn. It had been planted in colonial times by Sharon's most illustrious forefather, the Congregational minister Reverend Cotton Mather Smith, a descendant of Cotton Mather. It was now the largest elm in the entire state, its immense trunk measuring eighteen feet around. In 1924, the same year Main Street was paved for motor traffic, Buckley bought the estate outright and renamed it Great Elm. This was the new life Buckley had conjured in a few short years, seemingly pulled out of thinnest air, for his wife and growing family. So promising did the future look that when a sixth child was born on November 24, 1925, husband and wife agreed that this son, their third, should be his father's namesake: William F. Buckley, Jr. It was always an event when "Father" came home. The children who were not away at school or upstairs in the nursery crowded in front of the house to greet him. "We'd wait there for his car to come," one of his six daughters remembered, "and make bets on which car would be Father's." He was delighted to see them, but even happier to see his wife. "He'd kiss us all and he'd say, 'Where's your mother?' Mother would come and say, 'Darling,' and the two of them would walk out together." No one felt these currents more keenly than Billy Buckley, who had the middle child's fear of being overlooked, lost in the crowd. And the Buckley siblings really were a crowd: ten in all, many of them very close in age, five born ahead of Billy and four after. With servants added, as well as tutors, workmen, groomsmen for the horses, and later a riding instructor and his family, the household numbered more than twenty and was alive with pranks, schemes, hilarity, and strife. Excerpted from "Buckley: The Life and the Revolution That Changed America" by Sam Tanenhaus. Copyright © 2025 by Sam Tanenhaus. Excerpted by permission of Random House. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Get the book here: "Buckley: The Life and the Revolution That Changed America" Buy locally from For more info:
