Taki's Top Drawer

Requiem for a Buckley

The first time I met Pat Buckley was in 1964 and the circumstances were rather strange. It was at the Palace hotel in Gstaad, and a few friends and I were drinking around the large piano in the grill while the pianist was playing a spirited version of Mussolini's favorite tune, "Giovinezza." Our singing the ode to youth and fascism apparently did not best please a tall, bald man standing at the bar who suddenly threw his ...

Perle’s Swine Song

One of the least gratifying pictures I have had the bad luck to view on television this week for the portly figure of Richard Perle expounding his vile views in The Case for War. Even worse, it was on public television, which as everyone knows is paid for by our tax dollars. The heavy-lidded Perle is hardly photogenic, although unlike most bullies of his kind, he is soft-spoken and claims to sympathize with mourning relatives ...

Swilling from the America’s Cup

Larry Ellison, the chief executive of the software giant Oracle and the world's 11th richest man, according to Forbes magazine, is not imbued by an ounce of grace or elementary good manners. He has constructed a basketball court on board his megayacht, the latter a monstrosity which pollutes more than a battleship and serves no other purpose than as a penile extension to its owner. He's also so ...

Paying for Wolfie’s Nookie

One, two, three, four, Wolfowitz has got to go! Five, six, seven, eight, one more day will be too late. As the wise man said, once a crook and a liar, always a crook and a liar. Wolfowitz conspired with Douglas Feith to fabricate proof that Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction aimed at us. After the greatest disaster in the history of American foreign policy took place, Wolfowitz was the first rat to leave the sinking ...

Vive La France!

I remember when I was living in Flambertin des Creppieres, a small hamlet west of Paris with an admittedly extremely pretentious name, and listening to two butchers arguing about Camus. They both had obviously read him, but it was their evocation of other writers whom they compared him to which left me breathless. After they finished their wine they shook hands and went back to slicing up chickens and lambs. Just like back in ...

We Only Mock What We Love

Imus is an unpleasant fellow—one could never take him to a gentleman’s club, for example—but he didn’t say anything black radio jockeys don’t say every day about us whites. And it was meant, after all, to be a joke. Ethnic jokes have all but disappeared from the mass media due to censorship. The prevalence in a given society of jokes about a particular ethnic group is not a good indicator of feeling toward that group. ...

Lloyd’s Lie

Fictitious enterprises are the heart and soul of low journalism, and no one is lower in my opinion than Lloyd Grove. Just that week I had launched The American Conservative magazine, so Grove needed to put a kibosh to it with an anti-Semitic slur against me. I vowed to kick him in the ass the next time I ran into him, although I had no recollection what he looked ...

The Persian Embarrassment

The seizure of the British Royal Marines and sailors by Iran was always a no brainer. To Iran, Tony Blair is a lame duck, and the British people believe in their government as much as the Americans believed that Bill Clinton did not have sex with that woman. Few Brits accepted their Government’s story that their boats were in Iraqi ...

Ian Smith, We Hardly Knew Ye

In this week's New Yorker Philip Gourevitch takes a shot at Robert Mugabe, one of the leading psychopathic monsters among the rest of the crooks and murderers who lead the Dark Continent. He writes that the South African honcho, Thabo Mbeki and his gang have dishonored themselves by failing to stand up to an oppressor (Mugabe) who is as contemptuous of his people as Ian Smith was. What utter crap. Ian Smith, a wonderful ...

Requiem for a Heavyweight

Last week I spent some days in Washington, D.C. for a conference organized by Fran Griffin at the National Press Club. The subject was Sam Francis, and his terrific book, Shots Fired, about America’s culture wars. Alas, Sam Francis passed away two years ...

Mama was a Spartan

Back in the old country we've been making jokes about the Persians since 480 B.C. But we also like them because they made heroes out of us Greeks. We only lost once to them, in Thermopylae in 480 B.C., but they were 400,000 of them and 300 of ...

Murder Most False

Dodi was not sleeping with Diana, hence if she were pregnant at the time of her death, it would have been a far greater story than it was. It would have been the second Immaculate ...

The Honest Broker?

The neocons have their own axe to grind -- make the Middle East safe for Greater Israel -- but the West does not necessarily follow an Eretz Israel agenda. Or should not, in any case. It is strange that people like Bush and Blair have not caught on all these years. The more we mix up in their business, the more the people of the Middle East will hate us. All the more so if that involvement in their lives requires the use of ...

Paint Him Black

Dripping with malice, envy and venom, hacks are having the time of their life as Conrad Black goes to trial in Chicago, a city known for its smiling wallet-lifters and corrupt public officials. Not since Fat Bob Maxwell took a dive into the Med back in 1991 have those holier than thou members of the Fourth Estate enjoyed themselves as much. The trouble is there's quite a difference. Maxwell stole hundreds of ...

Election 2008: Midget-Wrestling

Barack Obama sounds very exotic but he is an unknown quantity with a 100 percent liberal voting record, whose only claim to instant fame is his skin color. What the hell is going on here? Just because a part-black man has obvious charisma and is soft-spoken and decent, is it enough to make him president? Why not pick an even nicer guy like Colin ...

The Simple Life

Back in the Fifties, Gstaad was a tiny alpine village without supermarkets nor boutiques. There were a few chairlifts and sledge trains—funicular railways—which crept up its gentle slopes. All in all there were about 2,000 beds, a few inns, three or four picturesque restaurants which served good but simple food, and the Palace hotel. The town was pure ...


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