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Twenty years ago this month - January 2006 - The Wall Street Journal and The New Criterion published the first draft of what would become the thesis of my bestselling book, America Alone...
A great Ukrainian song...
Mark sits in for our regular movie column...
Upon the centenary of Satyajit Ray, we present our late friend Kathy Shaidle's take on his 1955 classic Pather Panchali...
Mark on the abolition of the sexes...
Doctor Fraudpants flops out again...
Steyn remembers the late Jesse Jackson
As the #MeToo year of 2017 rolled toward winter, women across the land continued to rage. Like numberless rivulets flowing in from mountain, hill, and plain, the accusations of abuse - wholly true, partly-true, and wholly fabricated - all eventually combined into one great flood, saturating everything. That meant social media posts, water cooler conversation, magazine articles, TV interviews, human resource policies, proposed legislation and beyond. Along with the rage came female exultation at the power to destroy a man's career, marriage, life, with just an accusation. But in those charged days and weeks, a different kind of exultation was occurring inside a tall grey skyscraper smack dab in the middle of Manhattan. The address was 500 ...
Laura Rosen Cohen rounds up the internet...
The collaboration between director Michael Powell and writer/producer Emeric Pressburger began on the eve of World War Two and built up a considerable head of steam making films for and about that war...