An apparently well-funded grassroots moonbat site called StopBolton.org is showing a video of President Bush’s nominee for ambassador to the UN John Bolton, with the caption:

Think Bolton’s the right man for the job of UN Ambassador? Take a look and decide for yourself.

An excellent idea! In the interest of helping Americans decide how they feel about John Bolton, here’s the (obviously heavily edited) video:

Here’s Mark Steyn on the subject: Nuts and Bolton. (Hat tip: daylight.)

In recent years, I’ve had the pleasure of watching John Bolton in action on a couple of occasions at semi-private gatherings comprised mainly of —what’s the word? —foreigners. They were remarkable performances. Most of the Americans who hit the international cocktail circuit are eager to please. In Davos the other week, for example, CNN honcho Eason Jordan declared that US troops in Iraq were deliberately targeting journalists. Thanks to an enterprising blogger in attendance, this got him into hot water back home, and he wound up having to resign, mainly because it’s completely untrue. Also in Davos, Bill Clinton endorsed the mullahs: ‘Iran today is, in a sense, the only country where progressive ideas enjoy a vast constituency. It is there that the ideas that I subscribe to are defended by a majority.’ That’s true in the very narrow sense that in both Mr Clinton’s sex life and the ayatollahs’ repressive theocracy it’s the gals who wind up as the fall guys. But surely that can’t account entirely for Slick Willie’s effusions on Iran: ‘In every single election, the guys I identify with got two thirds to 70 per cent of the vote. There is no other country in the world I can say that about, certainly not my own.’

I’ve never been to Davos, but I’ve sat next to the hot-looking Eurototty in the Alpine bar and tried to wangle me a little apr�s-ski action and there comes a point in the evening when she says, ‘Zat George Boosh. What an idiot, hein!’ And you start to bristle, but then you realise that America and Old Europe are riven by as deep a divide as the magnificent plunging cleavage beckoning from her low-cut Fahrenheit 9/11 T-shirt and maybe now would be a good time for some transatlantic outreach in a very real sense, so you say, ‘Yeah, Bush. What a chump. Not like that Ruud Lubbers, eh?’ And you stare down her cleavage and catch your creepy sweaty face reflected in her shoes and feel momentarily ashamed, but not for long. My guess is that that’s what Bill Clinton and Eason Jordan were up to when they respectively hailed the progressivism of Iranian politics and defamed the entire US military. You’re with a bunch of foreigners and you want them to like you and it’s easy to get carried away.

That’s what was so stunning about Bolton. In a roomful of Euro-grandees, he was perfectly relaxed, a genial fellow with a rather Mitteleuropean moustache, but he thwacked every ball they served back down their gullets with amazing precision. He was the absolute antithesis of Schmoozer Bill and Pandering Eason: he seemed to relish their hostility. At one event, a startled British cabinet minister said to me afterwards, ‘He doesn’t mean all that, does he?’

But he does. And that’s why the Bolton flap is very revealing about conventional wisdom on transnationalism.