A couple items of interest that will otherwise pile up in my bookmarks folder and be lost to the ages:

A good piece on the rising popularity of supply-side tax cuts abroad, written by Stephen Moore. Supply-side economic theory has been under attack as of late, with liberal columnists (most notably Jonathan Chait of The New Republic, whose new book claims debunking abilities) working overtime to discredit not just the ideas, but the men who advanced them.

There was an article in the New York Times today about namesake earmarks. I was amused, because this is hardly news - during my summer internship, I helped scroll through spreadsheet upon spreadsheet of earmarks, marking ones that seemed suspicious or particularly egregious, researching them, and compiling data. One great example is Rep. Charlie Rangel’s (D-NY) earmark for a self-named Center for Public Service at the City College of New York. It’s common practice for colleges to name buildings after big donors, so considering that it’s taxpayers footing the bill, shouldn’t it be called “The American Taxpayer Center for Public Service?” Or maybe just “Boondoggle Hall” for short? I think it has a nice ring to it. But I digress. Another interesting set of earmarks belongs to Sen. Arlen Specter (R-PA), who funneled a total of $882,000 to 25 abstinence-only sex education programs in his state. Either Pennsylvania teenagers are a particularly promiscuous bunch, or Mr. Specter has realized that he needs to buy the social conservative vote to win reelection.

Kind of makes me proud to live in a state that Senator Jim DeMint represents. He, Tom Coburn, Jeff Flake and John McCain deserve some applause for their very lonely work challenging federal earmarks.

Speaking of applause, I was at work one day, folding clothes and talking with a guy whose wife was shopping. He asked me what I was studying, and I told him (somewhat shamefacedly - I’m not deluded enough to believe it was a practical career choice) that I was a political science major. The gentleman, all Southern drawl and old-timey curiosity, asked what side I wanted to work for.

“Well,” says I, in a solidarity-seeking approximation of his accent. “I’m a conservative Republican.”

He looks at me for a long minute, then remarks:

“You probably need a hug right now.”

Yessir, I surely do.

He settles for shaking my hand, and tells me to keep up the good work. I hope he was talking about my politics, not my clothes-folding and cash register skills.