Monday reading

For whatever reason, I lost interest in National Review a while back, but Kevin Williamson alone is worth the price of a digital subscription:

The lowest forms of literature are, in descending order: pornography, the staff recommendations at the Tribeca Barnes & Noble, diet/fitness books, celebrity cookbooks, books of poetry written by pop stars, and, at the bottom of this unsavory slag heap, political memoirs, which have all of the narrative sophistication of pornography with none of the enjoyable bits.

And it gets better from there.

The Charles Cooke stuff is good too, as is their joint podcast.