As I noted last year, one can judge the character of a man by the quality of his enemies.
Thus, it gives me great pleasure to report that James Wolcott, the éminence grise of Vanity Fair, he of the impeccably tailored raiment and the delicate ocicats, a man of exquisite taste and sartorial refinement — James Wolcott Himself has taken notice of Gates of Vienna again!
Dymphna has instructed me not to link to his post. She said, “He doesn’t deserve it.” I said, “Hey, fair is fair; he gave us a link.” Increased our traffic considerably, as a matter of fact. So who cares if all the new visitors were members of the Comintern?
But she is adamant. Anyway, here’s what he said:
For readers willing to don miner’s [sic] helmets to explore a smoke-filled ass just off the main highway, behold the cavern of Baron Bodissey.
How did we come to deserve such favor? With all the other juicy and low-hanging fruit on the tree of the Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy, why pick us? Why not the succulent plum of Little Green Footballs? Or the ripe red apple of Instapundit? Or even the tempting pomegranate of Roger Simon?
But, no, he chose Gates of Vienna. I guess today is just our lucky day.
I’m floating on a cloud!