Riders on the Storm

Justice is my being allowed to do whatever I like. 

Injustice is whatever prevents my doing so.

— Samuel Butler

We're about to see Joe Biden try to replace deprivation with comfort—or at least the opportunity to achieve comfort. And we're about to see Republicans try to block him.

I was raised to be a New Deal Democrat and cannot sympathize with anyone—except the rich—who supports the other party; and I can hardly sympathize with the rich. (My tender feelings fizzle fairly fast for households earning $300K+ a year.)

Biden's plan is bold because justice is at stake.

Justice is simple.

If you're a Republican, when it comes to defining justice you're on the wrong side of history—or two centuries behind the times, anyway. Your notions of rugged cowboys and laissez-faire capitalists are as outdated as frock-coats; so are your miserly notions of producers, moochers and looters. But you don't care. You're too busy dodging taxes and griping about socialism.

But if you're not a Republican, you know justice is about fairness, not self-interest, not ownership—and certainly not ownership of you (the gripe of Republicans is that taxes equate to Stalinist "forced labor"). Fairness means you don't trammel others' rights, including the right to a fair opportunity—a "fair shake," as Biden prefers to say. 

What's so complicated about that?

Now, Congressional gridlocking aside, the realist in me recognizes that giving everyone her fair shake won't be easy. 

First, some rich people will have to pay more taxes. Tough turkey. If you earn over $300K, I won't cry for you.

Second, some poor people will waste their opportunity. That'll be no one's fault but their own. I won't cry for them, either. Justice, after all, assures inalienable rights; even the right to screw up.

Dasein ist geworfener Entwurf, as Heidegger said: into this world we're thrown.

Thrownness is the human condition, our lot in life, the hand we're dealt. We're all born "situated," as Sartre said. Some are born haves, some have-nots; some White, some non-White; some abled, some disabled; some competent, some grossly not so. Justice seeks to throw off our thrownness.

We're all just riders on the storm. 

Why don't Republicans get that?

Some Things are Nonnegotiable

Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four.

― George Orwell

In The New York Times this week, conservative columnist David Brooks observes that the gospel of woke has already reached the remainder shelves, its freshness expired.

The proof, he says, lies in the fact that corporate America has co-opted it.

Corporations have the uncanny ability to productize progressive ideologies, Brooks says, "taking what was dangerous and aestheticizing it."

He cites the example of a nearly laughable pamphlet for math teachers, A Pathway to Equitable Math Instruction.

The pamphlet urges teachers to shun "racism in mathematics."  

"White supremacy culture shows up in math classrooms when there is a greater focus on getting the 'right' answer than understanding concepts and reasoning," the pamphlet says.

"Upholding the idea that there are always right and wrong answers perpetuates objectivity," and objectivity is racist.

Objectivity is racist, the pamphlet insists, because it's paternalistic, provoking fear and self-hatred among math students unaware of the correct answers.

Brooks might find this stuff silly and harmless; I don't. 

There are tens of thousands of teachers imbibing this swill.

Mathematical truth—what philosophers call realism—is apodictic, immutable and—as harsh as it sounds—nonnegotiable. 

Mathematical truth may be the last bastion of white supremacy, but I'll defend it to the end. 

Otherwise, truth is only that which is trouble-saving.

Do you want your grandkids crossing bridges engineered by snowflakes unable to add two plus two?

Not me.

Woke Me When It's Over

A sixth grader's father has caused a tempest in uptown Manhattan by mailing an angry letter to the 650 parents whose kids are enrolled in Brearley, an elite private girls school that costs $54,000 a year to attend. 

Recipients of the letter include Chelsea Clinton, Tina Fey, Drew Barrymore and Steve Martin.

"Our family recently made the decision not to reenroll our daughter at Brearley," wrote Andrew Gutman. 

"We no longer have confidence that our daughter will receive the quality of education necessary to further her development."

Gutman went on to say the school "has completely lost its way."

"The administration and trustees have displayed a cowardly and appalling lack of leadership by appeasing an anti-intellectual, illiberal mob, and then allowing the school to be captured by that same mob," he wrote.

The mob Gutman had in mind: the advocates of woke.

Last week I attended my first woke training course. 

I'm embarrassed to say I almost fell asleep.

The silliest portion of the training, by far, came when the presenter shamed herself for describing things as "crazy," pledging never again to use a word offensive to psychotics. 

Her self-mortification generated a couple dozen red-heart emojis and prompted one participant to pledge never again to describe things as "lame," a word offensive to cripples.

As far as the training went, he took the word right out of my mouth.

Woke's roots lie in French "post-structuralist" philosophy, which claimed that truth and righteousness are the solely property of the marginalized.

Many great philosophers contributed to post-structuralist thought.

But sadly, in the hands of hacks, their contribution to Western thought has devolved from insight to idiocy.

Woke training is inane.

Worse, it's a form of rhetoric philosophers call "moral grandstanding."

"Moral grandstanding is the use of moral talk for self-promotion," says philosopher Brandon Warmke. 

"Moral grandstanders have egotistical motives: they may want to signal that they have superhuman insight into a topic, paint themselves as a victim, or show that they care more than others."

Rather than mending society, moral grandstanders' soapboxing is divisive.

"Moral grandstanding contributes to political polarization, increases cynicism, and causes outrage exhaustion," Warmke says.

Moral grandstanders are also "free riders," Warmke claims. 

"They get the benefits of being heard without contributing to any valuable discourse."

Andrew Gutman's letter, although harsh, comes, I believe, as a predictable gut-reaction to moral grandstanding by Brearley.

"I cannot tolerate a school that not only judges my daughter by the color of her skin, but encourages and instructs her to prejudge others by theirs," Gutman told The New York Post.

While worried about his daughter's "indoctrination," what actually set Gutman off was the school's insistence he attend woke training, which he called "simplistic and sophomoric" and likened to Mao-like rehabilitation.

Too bad he didn't realize he simply could have napped through the training. 

Please, woke me when it's over.

Poison

Fox News' latest conservaturd: the decision by the estate of Dr. Seuss to stop printing six of the author's books represents "cancel culture at silliest."

"A whole bunch of childhood legends are suddenly being put on cultural trial," Fox commentator Howard Kurtz says. 

"Past generations produced artists and politicians who upheld ideas that are utterly unacceptable today. But we have more important things to do than constantly trying to whitewash every book and show produced by our flawed past."

I'm happy to chide the champions of witless wokeness. But Kurtz and his network—as always—are dead wrong.

Dr. Seuss Enterprises made its decision not because it wants to "cancel" its sugar daddy (why would it?) but because, as a spokesperson said, the six discontinued books "portray people in ways that are hurtful and wrong."

But, racist zealots that they are, Kurtz and his network refuse to admit kids are influenced by books—and that some of those books are poison.

As caring parents, we keep poisons out of kids' reach for good reason. And poisonous books, too.

Consider, for example, The Poison Mushroom, a children's picture-book published by Nazi propagandist Julius Streicher. 

Used in German classrooms between 1938 and 1945, The Poison Mushroom enjoyed a vast, captive audience until the Nazi's defeat and the Allies' "denazification" initiative.

The book explains how, just as it's hard to tell a poisonous from an edible mushroom, it's hard to tell a Jew from a Gentile. 

The Poison Mushroom teaches kids to identify Jews through their purported actions: they abuse servants; kidnap, molest and murder children; rape pubescent girls; torture animals; cheat naive customers; and worship money and Karl Marx.

During the Nuremburg Trials, one jurist called The Poison Mushroom "obscene."

Given the strong resemblance between Julius Streicher's and QAnon's beliefs, I wouldn't be surprised to see Kurtz and his network next rail against last year's "cancellation" of The Poison Mushroom by Amazon.

Perhaps it's time to cancel Fox News.

Fauxbohs

 

In a magazine article about the home of interior designer Dallas Shaw, I encountered the unfamiliar term gypset.

"With this gypset-style approach, Shaw started with her favorite room," the article said.

A Google search shuttled me to the website of travel writer Julia Chaplin, where I found the definition.

"I coined the term gypset (gypsy + jet set) to describe an international group of artists, entrepreneurs, surfers, seekers, and bon vivants who lead semi-nomadic, unconventional lives." Chaplin writes. 

"They are people I’ve met in my travels who have perfected a creative approach to life that fuses the freelance and nomadic ways of the mythologic gypsy with the adventurous freedom of the jet set."

Martha Stewart-like, Chaplin has built an empire around the so-called gypset lifestyle, replete with branded clothing, books, excursions, and events.

While gypset describes the lifestyle, its practitioners are bohos, Chaplin says, free-spirited folks who are "nomadic entrepreneurs," and who plan the path to bohemianism with precision NASA would envy.

It ain't easy being laid back.

Chaplin's term inspires me to coin my own: fauxboh.

A fauxboh is a fake bohemian, someone who spends a fortune to look non-materialistic; uses a travel agent to book a spiritual journey; and works all day long to appear a carefree slouch. 

A fauxboh is the 2020s' version of the 1960s' plastic hippy, only better traveled. 

A fauxboh should not be confused with a fauxbo, a well-off poseur who dresses like he's homeless and penniless; in short, a fake hobo.

Nor should the term be confused with FOBO, the "fear of better options" that cripples most college applicants, job seekers, home buyers, and diners at Denny's.

Finally, a fauxboh should not be confused with a bobo, the term coined by journalist David Brooks to describe a bourgeois bohemian. 

A bobo is a well-heeled yuppie with a guilt complex. When he shops, he "shops organically," to offset the carbon footprint his five cars, two homes, and jet ski, snowmobile and motorboat leave; and when he buys, he "buys American," to compensate for the fact he outsources all his business to Mumbai. A bobo is a big-spending bohemian.

All these terms raise the question: who were the original bohemians?

The answer: gypsies.

Parisians were the first to call artists and dilettantes “bohemians,” in the early 1800s. But they borrowed the term from the one they'd been using for 400 years to label gypsies, the stateless Roma.

Banished from India to wander Europe and the Middle East for centuries, in 1423 the Roma were granted citizenship in the Kingdom of Bohemia. 

When they were cast out of the kingdom 274 years later, the gypsies migrated to France. 

The French called the Kingdom of Bohemia La Boheme, and the strange and nomadic newcomers from that land les Bohemiens.

Chips on Their Shoulders

If there is one thing I dislike, it is the man who tries to air his grievances when I wish to air mine.

— P. G. Wodehouse

"Modern" families can stand down.

Mr. Potato Head is no longer a mister, according to the AP.

Toymaker Hasbro announced yesterday that its spud-shaped figure will now be referred to by the gender-neutral name "Potato Head." 

The company's Potato Head kits, moreover, will now include enough parts to allow kids to create same-sex potato couples.

Whether Hasbro's move anticipated passage of the Equality Act the same day is unknown, but its choice to stand on the right side of history did not escape company spokespeople.

"Hasbro is making sure all feel welcome in the Potato Head world," the company announced on its website.

Those spokespeople did not announce whether the toymaker will remove "bro" from its name, however.

A spokesperson for the National Potato Council (NPC) applauded Hasbro's decision, pointing out that potatoes, in fact, are genderless.

"Let me explain what happens when one potato loves another," NPC's spokesman told Goodly. 

"The parts of their flowers, which do have genders, become, if you will, 'intimate.' Pollen from the male part migrates to the female part. The female part then grows into a potato, but that potato is neither male nor female. So, scientifically speaking, Hasbro's decision to remove 'Mr.' was absolutely the correct one."

But Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, newly elected Republican from Georgia, criticized Hasbro and challenged the National Potato Council. 

"This is fake botany," Greene told Goodly. 

"Everybody knows God made two sexes when He created potatoes. Hasbro and the Council are just kowtowing to you-know-who: libtards from the land of fruits and nuts."

Unlike Greene, the majority of gendered trade characters, including Mr. Clean, Mr. Bubble, Mrs. Butterworth and Lille Miss Sunbeam, support Hasbro.

Although unavailable for interview, Mr. Peanut told Goodly through a publicist, "I'm a 'nut' for LGBTQ rights and salute Hasbro for its bold decision."