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Conor Gannon, Belfast's Ambassador to Partytown

While Googling for Gannons (yes, it's a fixation), we came across this web diary from 1999, documenting the life of a Washington-Ireland Program intern in the Office for Cabinet Affairs. (And hey, you know how we love affairs in the cabinet.) Dude: this kid is so ahead of his time, a veritable Jackie Harvey of the D.C. set.


Item!

Needless to say there was plenty of drinkin' involved, plenty of singin', plenty of dancin', plenty of volleyball and of course there was plenty of fireworks. Meeting the President, shaking his hand and chatting to him on July 4 has to be the highlight, although watching everyone dance in The Irish Times was a very close second.

The President, or Bill as he told me to call him, had no problem giving me a few friendly words at the White House on July 4. After I had wished him a happy July 4 from Belfast and Jeff thanked him for all his efforts in Northern Ireland he told us that he thought that if we could get this next deal through then we had a really good chance for lasting peace. Impressed? Only here two weeks an already being the ambassador.

So best. And it goes on... and on...

Conor Gannon [W-I Program]

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It started with them damn hats. (Image: Wikimedia Commons)

A guest post by "Knitsy McPurlson," which we suspect is not a real name.

Yr Wonkette is not the only website run by brilliant peoples unafraid to poke people with sharp, pointy sticks. Ravelry.com – a website for knitters, crocheters, and other folks interested in textiles and fiber arts – is poking people with knitting needles, which are very sharp indeed.

This past weekend, Ravelry.com's founders showed the world how easy it is to de-platform white nationalists and racists when they banned all "support of Donald Trump and his administration" from their website, concluding they "cannot provide a space that is inclusive of all and also allow support for open white supremacy." Seems like people smart enough to decode a knitting pattern are also smart enough to decode Trump's not-so-hidden message of racism and white nationalism.

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One day, God willing, my grandchildren will click open their history textbooks and read about the Central American migrant internment camps. They'll learn about sick kids, locked in cages, kept hungry and dirty and cold for weeks on end, and they'll be horrified.

"Bubbie," they'll say, "how could this happen in America? How could there be toddlers sleeping on the ground without blankets, without soap or toothbrushes to clean themselves?"

"I don't know. I wish I had done more. I'm ashamed," I'll say. We will all have to answer for this atrocity. But some of us will have to answer more than others. Not just the archvillains like Stephen Miller and John Kelly, but the people who kept right on doing their jobs, even as those jobs morphed into defending concentration camps.

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