The National Review has become a national joke.
I subscribed to it when run by WF Buckley - a true intellect.
Don’t know where they lost the altimeter, airspeed, VVI and attitude indicator, but those clowns are not worth spitting upon now.
I bailed when they dumped Mark Steyn as a columnist over a bit of political correctness so stupid I’ve successfully managed to suppress any memory of it.
Look at it from the author’s point of view: write a few garbage columns like this and you might get invited as the token “conservative” to a Georgetown dinner party where they will have you sit at the end like you’re George Will, you can soak up the glittering atmosphere and notable people who get mentioned in the Washington Post and the hosts will throw you some bones to gnaw on after you’ve made your nasty Trump comments. If your writing slanders kids, doesn’t investigate the truth of the charges, accepts the lurid tale because you saw an old minority person pictured, and you end up defaming and endangering them and their families, well so what? The only grime you got on your hands was from eating pork chops by the bone, they were free, and the party host made you feel important.