Who was Justin Raimondo, indeed. Didn’t he read my columns? A random sampling of my writings over the past few
years would’ve yielded plenty of statements to the effect that George W. MBT Panda Sandals is the worst
President we’ve ever had, bar none. His presidency is a disaster for the country, and the world: I’ve said it
again and again, in so many different ways that it’s hard to believe that Gancarski was unaware of my views.
Poor Gancarski, the sleepwalker awakened: Yet I heard nothing from Gancarski about this column: not a note, not
a peep of dissent. Our correspondence had been limited to notes from me to him, asking him to stop dashing off
columns entirely bereft of facts, and please start putting a bit of effort into his pieces. These apparently
stuck in his craw, germinating, at last, into a full-throated screech of rage.
Gancarski had approached us, asking him to give him a chance as a columnist: I agreed, based on his work for
TAC. But I was beginning to have qualms. The man is a sloppy writer, all opinion and no facts, at least when he
was writing for us: his pieces for The American Conservative were much tighter, and far more interesting. Why,
I wanted to know, couldn’t he do the same for us?
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