… as always, worth a read.

I am certain that there are many, many, many, many, many [people] who watched that [Superbowl ad] and were moved by it — who appreciated MLK’s message infused with vague instances of Really, Really Real Americans in Really, Really Real America and will buy and perhaps even fuck a Dodge Ram today.

Damon Young, The Root.

The first time [Shayma] Al-Hanooti returned to [her Virginia] mosque since her father’s funeral was to speak at a town-hall meeting at the height of the [mosque’s Female Genital Mutilation] scandal. It didn’t go well.

The crowd was mostly men, she said, and no recording devices were allowed. When it was Al-Hanooti’s turn to ask a question, she quoted [the mosque’s senior imam’s pro-FGM] remarks and asked how the mosque could continue under such leadership.

“The moment I quoted him, the community went crazy. It was just, like, this eruption,” Al-Hanooti recalled. “I was the only one they cut off, the only one that had a time limit, and suddenly security was in my face.”

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Tomorrow’s the day.

America’s most violent university campus (details over many years here) does its thing after yesterday’s football game, and a student writes in defense of systemic rioting at U Mass Amherst because, after all, what else is there? High tea at the Emily Dickinson Museum?

Wotta shocker. Half of Iranians want to dump the required veil. As of 2014. No doubt that number is higher now. No doubt the real number was higher then.

All thanks to My Stealthy Freedom and the brave unveilers of Iran.

If you hadn’t yet gotten the message about American football and postmodern capitalism, here’s your baby.

It’s a win/win.

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Here’s the antidote. Ram tough. Watch the whole thing, from a guy who routinely gets money penalties for hits.

If any of this is truthful testimony, we have in Oxford professor Tariq Ramadan a character beyond the wildest imaginings of Michel Houellebecq.

According to the complainant, the assault occurred very soon after her entry into [Tariq Ramadan’s] room: slaps to the face, arms, breasts and punches in the belly, oral sex and sodomy imposed by force, new blows, a new rape. “He dragged me by the hair all over the room to get me into the bathtub to urinate on me,” she said in her complaint, claiming to have finally managed to escape only in the morning.

UD bows to the Gilbert and Sullivan superiority of the Brits. She got the link from Jon. Read it all. Sing along.

Dent? … You mean like this? …

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The dons adore their dear Tartuffe;
Indignantly they ask for proof.
And when it comes, from lame and weak,
Against their godly pal Tariq,
Then watch each one of them go poof.

Countless players suffer from early dementia, depression, confusion, suicidal tendencies, and countless other alarming, often mortal, conditions resulting from the game… [T]he beauty [of football] is the beauty of a car crash in an action movie —
only here there are no stuntmen, no C.G.I. As N.F.L. players often say, nearly every play feels like a car crash, a real one. Even after an “injury-free” game, players soak themselves in ice baths; they are, head to toe, an enormous contusion.

Eastern Michigan. A national sports joke. It has spent itself into the gutter on games. It thinks for-profit online courses are going to save its sports-dead ass. What absolute total idiots.

Now that Ramadan has been charged with rape (including apparently rape of a disabled woman), it’ll be interesting to see how long Oxford University decides it wants to delectate headlines of this sort.. I mean … It’s a man’s world… And he’s their man… Maybe they’ll just go with it until he achieves the vindication I’m sure awaits him…

If this horrible man gets his way and makes fraternities illegal throughout the state of Tennessee, say goodbye to butt chugging. You won’t have anal enemaists to kick around any more.

Yes, say goodbye to lengthy press conferences like this one, offering precise details about what it’s like when fraternities full of drunk teenagers “introduc[e] alcohol into the rectum and colon via the anus.”

Farewell, golden college days…

No, that’s the wrong color. That’s the color when they make pledges lie down and then they piss all over them, and then they make them sit up and drink piss.

Farewell, russet college days.

Aw. That happened to me when I was twelve too. We’ve all been there.

Not all of them do, but most of them do. (Read this blog’s Click-Thru U and/or Technolust categories.) They’re positively criminal for slower learners — and in public high schools, slower learners are exactly the people the system shunts into online “credit recovery” courses, unsupervised, cheating-friendly, online make-up classes. If you flunk out of a person-to-person class, you can still get the credits you need to graduate by pretending you took the same material online. It’s a solution sweeping the nation, a scandal in every state, but UD‘s own Washington DC has had truly remarkable results with the technology: Every year, all but two public schools illegitimately graduate gobs of students.

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The romance with tacky online education continues to power forward in this country, because there’s plenty of money in it for the vendor, and because it’s absolute bliss for give-a-shit cynics. Despite all the scandals, expect it to grow.

Take heed of one thing DC schools are doing right away in response to the scandal: They’re keeping the program but calling it something other than “credit recovery.”

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But they’ll never beat the pros.