Sign of the Times

Today's Sabre outage, which halted many departures at major US airports, riled a lot of passengers.

My local newscaster kept pronouncing "outage" as "outrage," claiming there was an "outrage at airports nationwide."

Sign of our times?

Hard to Please

People who are hard to please, in other words, idiots.

― Marty Rubin

In today's New York Times, Harvard professor Dr. Sema Sgaier profiles the four types of Americans who resist the Covid-19 vaccine and suggests we mollycoddle them. To which I say screw that.

Sgaier surveyed 17,000 Americans and places the vaccine-avoiders into four categories:

Covid Skeptics—the idiots who think the vaccine is a Chinese plot. "Everyone in this group believes at least one conspiracy theory," Sgaier reports.

The Cost-Anxious—the idiots who worry about the vaccine's cost (it's free, of course).

System Distrusters—the idiots who feel maligned by doctors.

The Watchful—the idiots who are waiting for other idiots to get vaccinated first.

The good doctor recommends four ways to deal with the wretches: we should "hold conversations" with them; "offer them a "vaccinate later" option; "be transparent" about the vaccine; and "avoid trying to debunk what they believe" and instead "acknowledge how they feel."

That kid-glove approach sounds like good psychology. It may even be smart public health.

But we're talking about idiots here, and lots of them; in fact, 38% of Americans are idiots, according to Sgaier's survey. That's too many adults to mollycoddle, if we want to survive the "Commie threat from China."

"When it comes to idiots, America's got more than its fair share," Lewis Black once said. "If idiots were energy, it would be a source that would never run out."

I Can but I Won't

I'm as guilty as anyone of romanticizing the Greatest Generation.

But—just as millions of today's Americans are jerks about mask-wearing—many of the Greatest Generation were jerks, too.

Jerks about rationing.

Three months before Pearl Harbor, FDR signed an executive order intended to curb households' consumption of commodities. He knew they'd soon be in short supply. 

Commodities like cars, tires, gas, oil, coal, wood, towels, linens, clothes, shoes, meat, fish, catsup, mustard, butter, milk, cheese, coffee, sugar, jelly, shortening, canned fruits, canned vegetables, chocolate bars, candy bars, and bubble gum.

Americans were asked by their government to accept sacrifice—all for the good of the coming war effort. But millions never did. Millions hated rationing—as they did FDR—and cheated.

They cheated by stealing and counterfeiting ration coupons; buying coupons from relatives, neighbors, and the Mafia; hoarding goods; and buying them from bootleggers, black-marketers, and crooked merchants.

The Americans who complied with rationing, for the most part, ignored those who didn't, although one government official said the latter were "secretly in sympathy with Hitler or Hirohito."

Plus ça change.

A Nation of Neurotics

Neurosis is the inability to tolerate ambiguity.

— Sigmund Freud

What's wrong with everyone? 

Covid-19 is a moving target. 

The CDC's advice about shots, mask-wearing and social distancing merely moves in response.

Better and better news comes out every day.

Yet everyone wrings their hands.

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?