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On @SallyQuinnDC And The Nattering Nabobs Of Nothingness

19 October 2017 @ 09:54

Andrew Ferguson has penned a quite brilliant [and justifiably ruthless] review, entitled The Ruling Classless, of Sally Quinn’s new memoir, Finding Magic [tip of the fedora to Charles Murray]

It is a very useful primer on the types of people that now compose Washington Society, and, thus, who wield Power And Control in the nation’s capital.

Mr. Ferguson’s opening paragraph:

Sally Quinn, the well-known Washington journalist, has published a new memoir called Finding Magic. Even for those of us who have followed her nearly 50-year career with unflagging interest, it is full of news.

Indeed…and to any Sane person it is Awful, Horrendous, and Dreadful News.

Some highlights:

…Quinn begins with a loving portrait of her childhood in Georgia, where the family servants schooled her in voodoo. Her mother was already initiated. When the local vet misdiagnosed the family dachshund, Quinn tells us, Mom lost her temper and cried, “I hope you drop dead!”

“And,” she writes laconically, “he did.”

In the next chapter we learn that 10-year-old Sally came under the care of a doctor who upset her mother. Mom fed him the same line she gave the vet, and “he died shortly thereafter.”

Well, life goes on—not for the vet and the doctor, of course, but for Sally. She grew up and moved to Washington and dated a yummy reporter. Once he flirted with another woman. “I won’t say exactly what I did—even now it would be bad luck for me,” she writes. “I worked on the hex for several days.” The woman killed herself. In his reading chair, the reviewer stirs uneasily.

Next we read about Clay Felker, the editor of New York magazine, who commissioned a scurrilous profile of Quinn. She put a hex on him. Suddenly the magazine was sold and Felker was fired and publicly humiliated. “Clay never recovered professionally,” she tells us. “Worse, he got cancer, which ultimately led to his death.”


As AF remarks: ‘She buys a house, she switches jobs, she kills someone with a hex…the tone never changes.’

All of these memories, apparently, are told in a matter-of-fact way, which is the way people like her signal that they’re really, really Special, that they possess The Secret Wisdom [aka: Gnosis], that they’re the Hippest of The Hip-Hippiest [emphasis on the ‘Hippie’ part].  Call it: Self-Effacing Narcissism — the former term, of course, being very Ironic, the latter a feature, not a bug, in the Baby Boomer coding.


Sally Quinn has been writing books and articles for more than 40 years, yet her prose retains a childlike, disarming artlessness that makes Finding Magic and its serial revelations all the more arresting. She buys a house, she switches jobs, she kills someone with a hex…the tone never changes. “During my college years I had occasional psychic moments,” is how she begins one chapter, as if daring you to stop reading. Another chapter begins: “I love the Tarot.” She talks to ghosts…

One is forced to ask: Is one of those ghosts the Marquis De Sade?

As a possessor of the Gnosis, Mzzz. Quinn is very Woke, as the young barbarians like to say [actually: shout incessantly]:

She calls her book a spiritual memoir, though “spiritual” is a word — “faith,” “magic,” and “religion” are others — that she never stops to define. Given her central place in the upper reaches of Washington’s ruling class over the last half-century, we are entitled to read the book as a generational document—an Apologia Pro Vita Sua for the Baby Boomer Georgetown set. One reviewer called her “the quintessential Washingtonian,” and so she is. Sally Quinn is one of the channels through which the revolution of the 1960s entered Washington and remade the city and American politics.

Here I disagree with Mr. Ferguson.  Quinn and her kind didn’t remake Washington Society and American Politics: like all good Revolutionaries, they helped destroy it, so that all that remains of the old of both is desiccated and rotting pieces of diseased Civilization.  What exists now is Frivolous Freak Show that can only be seen in a fun-house mirror.


Like her fellow revolutionaries, Quinn was at first mistaken for an anti-elitist, striking a blow against the hypocrisy and pretension of the old order. She was nothing of the sort. She just favored a different kind of elite—one whose ranks were filled with people like her. By the time the Watergate scandal had laid waste to the capital, the city’s aristocracy had been remade by journalists for journalists, along with the politicians that journalists found appealing. John Kerry, Gary Hart, and Ted Kennedy were early favorites.

Soon enough, as in all revolutions, the vanguard became the bodyguard, and Quinn was top cop, policing the neighborhood and telling the bums to move along now. Early in the Carter presidency, a well-heeled but harmless couple from Georgia called the Bagleys bought a mansion in Georgetown and started throwing parties. These parties were unauthorized, and Quinn wrote an explosive piece in the [Washington] Post destroying their reputations. The Bagleys left town. (They snuck back in later.) A young hayseed from Pocatello, Idaho, moved to Washington and started inviting big shots like Kissinger to his parties. Sometimes they came, and the situation was getting out of hand! Sally gathered anonymous quotes insulting the young man as a poseur. She strung them into a feature story and got it on the front page of Style. So long, hayseed. “It was like finding the cure for cancer,” she said later.

I’m sure, Sally.  Why don’t you take a few more Valium and fellate an old pol or two — that has always been one of your top skills [this is no insult: she’s proud of her sexual prowess].

More [if you can stomach it]:

Quinn is proof of the observation attributed to G.K. Chesterton: When a person ceases to believe in God, the danger isn’t that he will believe in nothing, but that he’ll believe in anything. In addition to her hexes and ghosts, her Tarot and telepathy, Sally believes in Ouija boards, palm reading, astrology, fortune telling, Hindu gods, telekinesis, witchcraft, and pretty much anything else that crosses her line of sight. Anything, that is, but God, biblically understood….

How come I’m not surprised.

Mr. Ferguson then remarks:

…“In the end I have my own religion,” she writes. “I made it up.” So this is where we are, 50 years after the elites dropped conventional religion in pursuit of…something they could make up.

Self-invented religions will always be more appealing than God [BOB: And always more satisfying to the Soul consumed by the Cancer of Narcissism]. They make no particular demands on the believer, moral ones most importantly. It’s a handy omission. “I am,” she assures us, “a good and compassionate person, ethical and moral, embedded in core values, someone who cares about others.” [BOB: The Imbecilic Insanity, it burns.] Meanwhile, her memoir produces plenty of hard evidence to the contrary. There’s that dead fortune teller, for one thing. For another: Her account, utterly remorseless, of how she systematically set about seducing Bradlee away from his wife and children is as harrowing as the hexes.

What Sally Quinn and others of her kind are are Nihilists.  They are Nattering Nabobs of Nothingness.  They are Purveyors of Perversions of all kinds, not just sexual ones.

They are Evil incarnate.

What we have here is more evidence to support the idea that reforming Washington is a lost cause, that we, who want to see Freedom and Ordered Liberty restored, should concentrate elsewhere.  The old, civilized order has been destroyed.  The center lost it’s grip a long time ago thanks to the Cowardice inherent in the Political and Social Elites.

It is time we leave the District Of Depravity behind and spend our time elsewhere.

Politically, I say again:

Refugium inveniemus in provinciis!
[Find refuge in The Several States]


  1. jumpstart11 permalink
    19 October 2017 @ 15:58 15:58

    Are you thinking Balkanization or restoration of states rights? Are these ideological states or tribal? Agree that this looks like our future.

  2. jumpstart11 permalink
    19 October 2017 @ 22:16 22:16

    Quite clearly. Thank you.


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