Writing from some strange Virtual Kishinev, Frederick Kagan succumbs to shrill unholy madness and denounces Donald Rumsfeld--the head of the cossacks--while still declaring his love for George W. Bush, the Little Father, Batiyushka, the friend of us all. Ah! If only the Czar knew what the cossacks were doing in his name! The Little Father would save us!
I don't know if there are enough free beds in the Shoggoth Wing to hold the entire Weekly Standard staff: Fighting the Wrong War
