SOBRAN'S -- The Real News of the Month July 2003 Volume 10, Number 7 Editor: Joe Sobran Publisher: Fran Griffin (Griffin Communications) Managing Editor: Ronald N. Neff Subscription Rates. Print version: $44.95 per year; $85 for 2 years; trial subscription available for $19.95 (5 issues). E-mail subscriptions: $39.95 for 1 year ($25 with a 12-month subscription to the print edition); $65 for 2 years ($45 with a 2-year subscription to the print edition). Address: SOBRAN'S, P.O. Box 1383, Vienna, VA 22183-1383 Fax: 703-281-6617 Website: www.sobran.com Publisher's Office: 703-281-1609 or www.griffnews.com Foreign Subscriptions (print version only): Add $1.25 per issue for Canada and Mexico; all other foreign countries, add $1.75 per issue. Credit Card Orders: Call 1-800-513-5053. Allow 4-6 weeks for delivery of your first issue. {{ Material dropped from features or changed solely for reasons of space appears in double curly brackets. Emphasis is indicated by the presence of asterisks around the emphasized words.}} CONTENTS Features -> After Liberation -> The Moving Picture -> Land of Hype and Glory -> Jurisprudence in Tongues -> Panning Peck Nuggets (plus Exclusives to this edition) List of Columns Reprinted FEATURES After Liberation (page 1) If you had no high hopes for the war on Iraq, it's hard to be disappointed by the outcome. The United States won, of course, with few American casualties (and an unknown number of Iraqi ones). Saddam Hussein is gone, if not dead, and to that extent Iraq has been "liberated," but the promised democracy hasn't materialized. The American occupation has put democracy, free speech, and freedom of the press on indefinite hold. The Iraqi dinar has shown surprising vitality, so much stronger than the dollar that the U.S. forces are printing dinars; that is, flooding the country with counterfeit money, {{ thereby impoverishing its people. }} A few dozen American troops have been killed in sporadic attacks, and the early signs of welcome have vanished; but the situation seems fairly stable. The United States seems neither stronger nor safer than it was before the war. {{ Iraq's alleged but vaguely defined "weapons of mass destruction" didn't appear during the war and haven't been found since it ended. The suspicion grows that if they }} ever existed in any meaningful way the U.S. and British governments grossly exaggerated them and any threat they posed. The impolite term "lying" has crept into the media, especially in England, where the press is relatively untamed. The Bush administration keeps insisting that the WMDs *did* exist and *will* be discovered, but it and its defenders have changed their tune: they now say the important thing is the "liberation" of Iraq, citing the mass graves of Hussein's victims as proof that the war was warranted. The implied (and also vaguely defined) connection between Hussein and "terrorism" has been abandoned. It's not clear what the "preemptive" war preempted. Maybe Bush didn't exactly lie, but he clearly asserted a certainty he didn't have and wasn't entitled to. Congress will inquire into whether he was misled by the intelligence services; he almost surely wasn't. The problem wasn't the information he received, but what he did with it. He told the American public it was definitive proof of Hussein's aggressive intentions. It wasn't. But Bush has counted on us to take his word for it then, and not to ask too many questions now. And it would be awkward for a country that supported the war in advance to withdraw its consent after an overwhelming victory, wouldn't it? The Republican Party hardly seems republican, in the original sense of the term. It worships Bush with an almost royalist piety. {{ It has adopted the old view that "the king can do no wrong" -- which never meant that he was infallible, only that he could never be held liable for anything. }} It doesn't matter what the war cost, or whether the reasons given for it hold water. What counts is that Bush won, and his political position is stronger than ever. There is no opposition or even significant criticism of him within his own party, or within what now passes for the conservative movement. Only the Left now occasionally raises the kind of questions conservatives used to ask, and there isn't much Left left. Even Ted Kennedy and Hillary Clinton have been tamed, along with the rest of the Democratic {{ Party, which has all but conceded next year's elections. }} The few "issues" that separate the two parties are matters of detail, not principle. For the time being, it's Bush's world. But what a dull world! The Moving Picture (page 2) Senator Strom Thurmond has finally died, at 100. Given the recent experience of Trent Lott, the eulogies were among the most carefully worded in modern history. Thurmond was one of the few politicians who was old enough to remember what the Constitution once meant, but he invoked it chiefly for racial purposes and seldom let it stop him from delivering Federal pork to South Carolina. Let the record show that he could be principled, on occasion. * * * Beating our own Supreme Court to the punch (see below), a Canadian appeals court has legalized same-sex "marriage." Prime Minister Jean Chretien approved the decision and announced that the government won't appeal it. "You have to look at history as an evolution of society," he explained, equating a sudden rupture of tradition with benign gradual development. Just like our own Supreme Court. * * * Led by Al Gore, liberals have decided that what they need is a Rush Limbaugh. They're working on it, hoping to come up with a hugely popular talk-radio host. Good luck, guys. They'll also need a few hugely popular liberal issues, which will take some doing, since the essence of modern liberalism is its alienation from ordinary people. Hence its need to achieve "social change" by judicial and bureaucratic dictatorship. Liberals have already turned most of the hot-button issues over to conservatives. So now they want to try demagogy? A little late for that. * * * Maybe the key to the condition of liberalism today is the concept of evolution. Liberalism is no longer a fighting faith, and liberals sense this. Their agenda rouses little enthusiasm, and it would take more than a liberal Limbaugh (if such a being were conceivable) to change that. Since they can't hope that the masses will hit the streets to do battle for liberal ideals, they settle for hoping that, if told that liberalism is an evolutionary certainty, people will simply accept it. Once a creed that inspired, liberalism is now merely something we must resign ourselves to. * * * The U.S. Census Bureau reports that Hispanics now outnumber blacks and are thus America's largest minority. But "Hispanic" is a linguistic category, not a racial one: it embraces whites, blacks, and descendants of American (and Central American) Indians, and refers chiefly to Mexicans but also to Cubans, Puerto Ricans, and actual Spaniards. Since nearly all of them are in this country voluntarily (in many cases illegally), it will be awkward to argue that they are oppressed. Do you become an Instant Victim just by crossing the border nowadays? Or do you also have to speak Spanish? * * * The death of Katherine Hepburn was followed only a day later by that of Buddy Hackett. Was this coincidence or grief? The two had a long-standing romance that was widely known throughout Hollywood. But Hackett was married to someone else, and his wife refused to divorce him, so the affair had to remain discreet. Meanwhile, the Hepburn-Hackett team continued to enchant the world in romantic comedies, until -- wait! I've got him mixed up with someone else. Sorry. Disregard. Land of Hype and Glory (pages 3-4) The musical CHICAGO continues not only to delight but to fascinate me, particularly the character of Billy Flynn (played in the movie by Richard Gere), the lawyer who turns an adulterous murderess into a celebrity. Billy knows how to use both the press and the courtroom to make his client, Roxie Hart, a celebrity. Her criminality would be nothing without his public-relations genius. With his help, she becomes the darling of Chicago. Billy is a hilarious addition to the great American tradition of the con man. The type is not unknown to Europe, but he came into his own in nineteenth-century America and is still with us. Hollywood preserved him most memorably in W.C. Fields, Frank Morgan, and Walter Matthau. Visiting in the 1830s, Alexis de Tocqueville was amazed by American enterprise. Unencumbered by history, its memories, and its legacies, Americans started from scratch. They didn't need authorization or permission from state or church; they had no pedigrees and knew little about their own ancestors. Their energies, desires, and ambitions had free scope, and they made the most of it. They could start their own businesses, even their own religions. Government was minimal. Even churches belonged to the realm of the market. To a European observer this was a breathtakingly new world of possibilities. In Europe the new and the ancient live side by side; the ancient is familiar, not exotic. But in America to grow old is to become obsolete; nothing lasts long enough to become venerable. In time everything is either updated or replaced by something newer. Americans commemorate things -- movies, for instance -- that are less than a century old. Even the meaning of the U.S. Constitution isn't fixed; the courts and politicians continually update that too. This is, after all, a country that can regard the Kennedys, third-generation scions of a bootlegger (who remains the only enterprising member of his clan), as its royal family. Tocqueville found Americans agreeable and polite, because in such a fluid society, without stable hereditary status, success depended on pleasing others: socially, commercially, politically. The customer was always right. There were no aristocrats here, only tycoons adopting aristocratic airs; and few great (that is, rich) families maintained their status for more than two generations. None outside the Old South did it by owning land. In this situation it was inevitable that advertising, with all its attendant hyperbole, should play a leading role. It wasn't long before advertising itself became an independent industry, in which accuracy mattered less than hype. Hype has also become the style of our politics, in which money and advertising are central. The obverse of the slogan that the customer is always right was P.T. Barnum's discovery that a sucker was born every minute. From a certain perspective, the customer and the sucker are one and the same. This is the perspective of the proverbial snake-oil salesman. As America moved westward, the huckster became a familiar figure, whether he was selling patent medicine, the deed to the Brooklyn Bridge, or some simulacrum of high culture. He became a great source of native American humor and satire. Mark Twain captured him in the Duke and the Dauphin, who go from one frontier town to another bamboozling hicks with, among other things, bogus versions of Shakespeare. Twain was also among the first to see that politics was the natural habitat of the con man. Later Meredith Willson would give us a similar, if more beguiling, cultural predator in THE MUSIC MAN. "Professor" Harold Hill appears as a lovable, almost benign character even before he is reformed by love for Marian the Librarian. Even his scheme -- selling band instruments and uniforms -- is fairly harmless. We can't really wish his comeuppance; after all, in America most of us are salesmen of one sort or another, and the con man is our cousin. We don't want to disown him entirely, especially if he is having fun. He's part of our national life and its distinctive energy, even a figure of nostalgia. All this has its dark side too. Willy Loman, in DEATH OF A SALESMAN, fails tragically because he can no longer sell himself; he can't huckster with conviction. If the customer is always right, and if the suckers aren't buying, he has only himself to blame. And so he does, taking his own life. The con man wasn't just a frontier figure; he was built into the nature of America itself. Sinclair Lewis saw him in the respectable businessman and, of course, the itinerant preacher, Elmer Gantry, a lecherous hypocrite who answers to no bishop, but makes do with only a Bible. H.L. Mencken feasted on religious hypocrisy, but, like Twain, found democracy itself a rich field for con men. Intellectuals loved Mencken's scathing treatment of fraudulent politicians as long as most of his targets were Republicans, but he fell from favor when he turned his satire against Franklin Roosevelt. Mencken would be appalled, but probably not surprised, at the veneration Roosevelt still receives. The real subject of his scorn was not the con man but the willing suckers, the American people, whose cultural level never ceased to decline (and still hasn't). Mass education has failed to improve things; on the contrary, it has only made them worse. Today the suckers have been to college; but they're still suckers. In fact academic and intellectual life have presented new opportunities for con men, especially in the social sciences. Margaret Mead's "discoveries" about uninhibited sexual life in Samoa turned out to have been fabrications; so did Alfred Kinsey's even more influential "findings" about sexual behavior in America, which became Holy Writ for the sexual revolution and the homosexual movement. Both Mead and Kinsey professed to offer only empirical, "value-free" data, yet these bogus scientific breakthroughs continue to have vast impact on American sexual norms long after their exposure as lies. Almost any lie can be sold to the educated public, as long as it is packaged as scientific and "progressive." More recently, an academic con man named Michael Bellesisles wrote a history of gun ownership in America, purporting to overthrow the mythology of a traditional "right to bear arms." It transpired that his research was almost entirely forged, but not before liberal intellectuals had hailed him for a major achievement in correcting common beliefs. There have been a number of similar academic swindles, nearly all of them perpetrated by leftists and Marxists. No brief survey of the subject would be complete without a mention of Bill Clinton, arguably the most successful con man in American history. Clinton didn't offer a single grand falsehood; rather, his assertions turned out to be a tissue of lies -- about everything from his boyhood to "that woman, Miss Lewinsky." Only his allegedly brilliant wife, who presumably knew him best, professes to have believed them all. Yet Clinton is hard to hate. He had the true con man's gift of incessantly charming gab -- what the late Michael Kelly called his "serial sincerity." Even when you knew he was lying, you couldn't help feeling that he meant it. He lied from the heart. Clutching his Bible as he escorted his wife to church, wiping away a tear as he spoke from a pulpit, gazing steadily and nodding sympathetically at interlocutors, he was the real thing: the true American fake. We shall not look upon his like again. Truly, Clinton was the man without a pedigree. He was born William Jefferson [!] Blythe, but there is even some doubt about his paternity; his mother was a barmaid, and her husband was apparently overseas nine months before Bill was born. (Mr. Blythe seems to have lacked Bill's knack for avoiding military service.) Eventually Bill took his stepfather's name and developed his own genius for talking his way into power and out of scrapes. As a boy in Arkansas -- we have his word for it -- he (with his little friends) boycotted buses in solidarity with Rosa Parks, wept at Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech, and shuddered when black churches were burned by Klansmen. Everyone has his own favorite Clinton yarns, but these are mine. Even as a child in a segregated state, he had already, precociously and independently, acquired the views and feelings that would be mandatory when, many years later, he went to Yale. Only one country could have produced such a man, and it's a pity that Twain and Mencken didn't live to see him. They did, as it were, prophesy him. One writer saw early on that Clinton was the stuff of which comic novels are made: Joe Klein, who captured him perfectly as Jack Stanton, the rascally presidential candidate, in the anonymously published PRIMARY COLORS. Too bad this funny book was upstaged by the uproar about its authorship, then about the movie that was made from it; it's not only a shrewd portrait of Clinton, but a witty comment on American democracy in our time. The suckers we have always with us. Jurisprudence in Tongues (page 5) Something strange happens to people when they get appointed to the U.S. Supreme Court. They cease to think and talk like normal human beings. They become possessed by the Zeitgeist, which speaks through them in spooky accents, issuing preternatural calls for national transformation, uninhibited by tradition, precedent, or even logic. This prophetic spirit has been busy lately. First Sandra Day O'Connor issued a majority ruling in favor of affirmative action in state-funded college admissions policies. Using the magic words "diverse" and "diversity" fifty times, she called for realizing "the dream of one nation, indivisible" -- apparently forgetting, in her mystical transports, that it was the U.S. Constitution she was supposed to be ruling on and quoting the Pledge of Allegiance instead. Nor did she bother explaining how "diversity" -- a euphemism for discrimination against whites -- will achieve the promised wonders; but never mind. It would be an indignity to subject the prophetic spirit to such nitpicking. The Constitution doesn't forbid the states to fund schools and colleges or to dictate any admissions standards they happen to choose. But O'Connor didn't make her case on this ground; she assumed the authority of the Federal Government, and of the Court, to review and judge the states' actions in this area. It so happens that she approves the principle of racial preferences, discreetly applied (with certain arbitrary exceptions). But the Court wasn't finished. Three days later it ruled that a Texas law against homosexual sodomy was unconstitutional. This time the prophetic messenger was Anthony Kennedy, like O'Connor a Reagan appointee who has grown in office. He too disdained to quote the text of the Constitution, preferring to quote himself. In Planned Parenthood v. Casey (1992), which reaffirmed Roe v. Wade, Kennedy, a nominal Catholic, wrote, "At the heart of liberty is the right to define one's own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of human life." This woolly philosophizing has been widely lampooned -- in his dissent, Antonin Scalia mockingly referred to it as the "famed sweet-mystery-of-life passage" -- but Kennedy is so proud of it that he repeated it in his sodomy opinion. This kind of reasoning, to call it that, can lead anywhere. If abortion is somehow an extension of a right to define the universe, Scalia is quite sensible to apprehend the future applications of a "right" to sodomy. The lower courts teem with Anthony Kennedys; a Canadian court has just ruled that the law must recognize "marriage" between people of the same sex. It can happen here, and probably will. What's so appalling about O'Connor and Kennedy is the utter triteness of their minds. They seem to have studied metaphysics at the feet of Hugh Hefner, yet they regard themselves as pioneering thinkers, philosophic guardians of the Republic, entitled to reshape old institutions to suit themselves. Their opinions are thick with ill-digested cliches; and they get their cliches from the wrong people. O'Connor claims, in the teeth of every known opinion poll, "broad" public support for racial preferences, and Kennedy claims an "emerging awareness" that his benign view of homosexuality is correct -- though, again, the polls show otherwise. Both are avatars of what's loosely called "elite" opinion, though the supposed elite is now a dwindling liberal minority that still mistakes itself for an avant-garde. One might as well seek the leaders of tomorrow in an old folks' home. Both rulings are nothing more than solemn judicial whims, inspired by fading trends. In both cases narrow majorities decided that the Court's recent interpretation of the Fourteenth Amendment, already fantastically broad, still isn't broad enough to suit them. It just keeps emanating penumbras, which, as Kennedy's opinion illustrates, are rapidly approaching infinity. No state law is safe from the Court. The Tenth Amendment, with the whole federal structure it expresses, is dead. Scalia quipped that Kennedy's defining-the-universe dictum may turn out to be "the passage that ate the rule of law." Panning Peck (page 6) Monumentally handsome, Gregory Peck, who has died at 87, acted like a monument. Movies, even good movies, could be made around him, but they never seemed to be made by him. Like all monuments, he was an impersonal presence. He belonged more on Mount Rushmore than on the screen. In real life, he was as decent as he appeared in his films. Those who knew him all agree on this. He was dedicated to liberal and charitable causes, but he was conservative in demeanor, and if, during his lifetime, Hollywood fell into aesthetic depravity, it wasn't his fault. He stuck to an old code of propriety, and most of the characters he played were irreproachable by any standard. He always seemed to be playing himself. The trouble is that that wasn't a very interesting character. Peck couldn't pass for Hamlet or even Stanley Kowalski. Or Sam Spade, or Norman Bates, or Rhett Butler, or a Capra hero like Mr. Deeds or Mr. Smith or John Doe. Atticus Finch, yes, of course. A lawyer of humorless rectitude, tailor-made for Peck. But who can recall the name of any other character he played? (Captain Ahab and Doctor Mengele don't count.) The congenitally noble Atticus, in TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD, was really no different from most of the roles Peck played, except that he didn't carry a six-gun. Otherwise he was hardly distinguishable from the crypto-gentile Peck impersonated impersonating a Jew (implausibly) in GENTLEMEN'S AGREEMENT. In both roles, Peck played a mere symbol, showing up the stereotyped bigots around him. Late in his life Peck did a televised interview in which he reminisced about his long career, but said nothing about the craft of film acting. He left one with the impression that he'd never given the subject a thought. This was remarkable, since his career overlapped with those of some of Hollywood's greatest actors, men who really knew their business. These included Bogart, Stewart, Tracy, Brando, and Montgomery Clift. I want to stress that these were *film* actors. Stage acting has its own tradition, growing out of Renaissance rhetorical theory and practice, which put a premium on large gestures and vocal projection. The camera and the microphone made the older style obsolete, by picking up the slightest gestures and the subtlest intonations. Modern film acting is, accordingly, intimate and naturalistic. {{ Nobody understood this better than Brando. He achieved powerful effects by scratching his chest and digging wax out of his ears while speaking on camera. Artifice, to be sure, but artifice that made other actors seem artificial. }} Peck never grasped this. He persisted in a stagy, declamatory style of acting that never permitted intimacy with the camera (or the film audience). Some of his movies were good more in spite of, than because of, his inflexible performances. Hitchcock, famous for minimizing the need for acting in cinema, knew how to use him in THE PARADINE CASE. All this is not meant to attack Peck, but only to call attention to a certain quality of conventional Hollywood histrionics that he exemplified with unusual longevity. The really gifted Hollywood actors understood one thing Peck never grasped: that film acting means reacting to the other actors. Tracy wasn't an especially "versatile" actor; he "played himself," if you will, as much as Clark Gable did; he seldom "disappeared into his role." But he spoke every line with conviction, because he spoke it in exquisitely sensitive response to the way other actors had spoken *their* lines. And this is the essence of real film acting. Consider Clift. He is now nearly forgotten, but he was as original as Brando. His career was brief; he was a troubled man, alcoholic and homosexual, his beautiful face was smashed in an auto wreck, and he died young. But no actor was ever more sensitive to the camera. {{ In Hitchcock's I CONFESS he is a priest framed for a murder he didn't commit; he knows who the culprit is, but the seal of the confessional forbids him to say so; and when, under a detective's interrogation, he realizes that he is the prime suspect, his darting eyes and halting voice betraying both innocence and implication, we witness a near-miracle of film acting. }} Clift was so disarming because he could let his interlocutors get the better of him without losing his control of the viewer's sympathy. Even in showing weakness, he remained the dominant actor in the scene. Only Anthony Hopkins, as far as I know, has managed to do this as well. It's a very rare effect. Peck never achieved it, nor ever tried to. For him, acting meant speaking his lines resonantly, never getting the worst of an exchange; he hardly seemed to be listening to the other characters at all. They held no interest or surprise for him. He was an extremely good- looking man, and the function of the other actors was only to make him look better. Even when playing a Nazi monster like Mengele (as if to prove he could be someone besides Atticus Finch), he conveyed mere villainy rather than evil. If he ever illuminated a character, I must have missed it. NUGGETS CONFESSION: I'm writing in a swoon tonight. My stereo is playing my favorite passage of music in all the world: the slow second movement of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony. I discovered it in high school, have listened to it countless times since, and have never tired of it. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: when he was in the mood, Beethoven could knock off a symphony with the best of them. (page 4) DE HAUT EN BAS: At the Mideast peace talks, the Israeli daily HA'ARETZ reports, President Bush explained his recent actions thus: "God told me to strike at al-Qaeda and I struck them, and then he instructed me to strike at Saddam, which I did ..." (page 8) ADIEU: No sooner had Strom Thurmond gone to his reward than Lester Maddox followed him. My Confederate flag is at half-mast. (page 8) WILD ABOUT HARRY: On a recent Saturday I dropped in on Borders Books and found a line longer than I'd ever seen even during a Christmas rush. What had brought out the intellectual community in such force? Ah, but of course: the woman ahead of me reminded me that the latest Harry Potter book had just been released. Maybe I should title my next book HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRET OF SHAKESPEARE. (page 9) DR. COHEN'S DIAGNOSIS: Ann Coulter, says columnist Richard Cohen, commenting on her new book TREASON, "has lost her mind." For a guy dealing with a victim of mental illness, Cohen's diatribe is strangely tinged with moral indignation. He even likens her "nutso archconservatism" to -- what else? -- "traditional anti-Semitism." Where's liberal compassion when you need it? (page 11) Exclusive to the electronic version: AH, THE USES OF EVOLUTION! A NEW YORK TIMES editorial alleges an "evolving popular opinion" in favor of gay rights. Got it? If it doesn't exist, just say it's still "evolving" and act as if it's already a reality. The Gray Lady's star girl columnist, Maureen Dowd, condemns Justice Antonin Scalia as a "stegosaurus" who yearns for "an airbrushed Fifties America that never really existed" for his dissent in the Court's pro-homosexual ruling. You don't have to refute his argument, it seems; just accuse him of belonging to the past, while denying that that past was real. The implication, of course, is that nobody in his right mind believes in permanent norms of conduct. Our only duty is to keep up with -- and to anticipate -- our (liberal, of course) evolutionary destiny. THE BISHOP'S "WIFE": In New Hampshire, Episcopalians have elected, subject to approval of the national convention, their first openly homosexual bishop, V. Gene Robinson. Robinson has long since divorced his wife (they have two daughters) and is shacked up with his boyfriend -- without benefit of clergy, so to speak. The Episcopalians have been evolving so fast for so long I'm surprised that this is a first. I'd assumed that by now it was part of the job description. REPRINTED COLUMNS (pages 7-12) * Now They Tell Us (June 3, 2003) http://www.sobran.com/columns/2003/030603.shtml * Hillary's Abiding Commitment (June 10, 2003) http://www.sobran.com/columns/2003/030610.shtml * Did Bush Lie? (June 17, 2003) http://www.sobran.com/columns/2003/030617.shtml * Attacking the Rich (June 19, 2003) http://www.sobran.com/columns/2003/030619.shtml * Celebrating Diversity (June 24, 2003) http://www.sobran.com/columns/2003/030624.shtml * The Court versus Federalism (June 26, 2003) http://www.sobran.com/columns/2003/030626.shtml ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ All articles are written by Joe Sobran You may forward this newsletter if you include the following subscription and copyright information: Subscribe to the Sobran E-Package. See http://www.sobran.com/e-mail.shtml or http://www.griffnews.com for details and samples or call 800-513-5053. Copyright (c) 2003 by The Vere Company -- www.sobran.com. All rights reserved. Distributed by the Griffin Internet Syndicate www.griffnews.com with permission. [ENDS]