Sunday, January 30


No, that's not a bungled line from a famous Frank Sinatra tune. Well, okay; kinda. But it's an apt description of what Eloise over at Spitbull alludes to in her post on the war of words being waged by columnist Nick Coleman of the Minneapolis Star Tribune against what he terms the "extreme bloggers," although who's kidding whom, as his broad stroke of the brush tirades generally leave no one in the blogosphere unscathed. But the object of Coleman's contempt for bloggers seems to center primarily on the co-founder of Powerline, and from what Eloise has to say on the boiling exchange between the two, it'll take more than an elephant rifle for Coleman to fell Scott Johnson. Indeed, Coleman has met the enemy and seems his scalp hangs resplendent on Scott's paneled office walls.

If he's nothing else, Coleman is entertaining in his hysteria. For a professional writer he comes across as a bit windy, kind of like Roget's Thesarus pouring out of a heavily-amplified loudspeaker. He chastised Powerline's trio of bloggers as partisan hacks and rottweilers in sheep's clothing back in December. He damn sure seems to have a bur in his saddle. That or maybe he was just overwrought from holiday depression.

Anyway, it's a fun post. Coleman's not left with so much as a pulse. And be sure to click on all of the links in the post, as Eloise sews up the corpus delicti like a skilled mortician.