Get Drunk

"Get Drunk"

A poem, about halfway through this piece by the Clancy Brothers:



"Get drunk, and never pause for rest: with wine, with poetry, or with virtue as you choose."

That's one I had not heard.

Weird Kids

Weird Kids

A friend who really has my number sent me home from a recent visit with a copy of the movie "Temple Grandin." I was curious to watch it, having read about this very high-functioning autistic woman fifteen or twenty years ago in a New Yorker article. It's a wonderful movie. Ms. Grandin made a very successful career designing humane and cost-effective animal-handling systems for cattle feedlot and slaughter operations. Her view is that nature is cruel, but we needn't be. If she were a cow, she wouldn't want to be ripped apart by a large predator but would prefer to have a painless death preceded by a serene life. Realizing that cattle would exist only in zoos if we didn't raise them for our good, she nevertheless felt that we owed them some respect. She persuaded so many feedlot operators of the practicality of her designs that a large fraction of this country's operations use them.

Always baffled by people, Grandin was drawn to cows early in life when she saw the chute used on her uncle's ranch to restrain the animals for innoculation. She realized that she, too, would find the squeezed-in retractable walls soothing during one of her frequent over-stimulated panic attacks, so she built a version for her own use. It raised many eyebrows in her dorm room at college. Later in life, she would explain that autistic children need hugs to calm down, but can't bear to receive them from people.

In the same vein, I'm reading Thomas Sowell's "The Einstein Syndrome," about children (like Einstein, and like Richard Feynman) who begin to talk very late, at age 3, 4, or even 5. We had a family friend like that, one of my father's colleagues, who never said a word until he was about 4, then burst out with "Look at the little bird up in the tree." Those children tend to grow up to be a little ways down the autism spectrum disorder, and very often become yet another mathematician or musician or engineer in a family already unusually full of them. Sowell's own son was that way. His family installed child-gates in the open doorways, with supposedly childproof locks. When the infant boy instantly got the first one open, they installed a more complicated one. He stared at it for quite a while without moving, then opened it on the first try. At age 3, he was forbidden to touch his father's chess set, which normally stood in his study with the pieces in mid-game. One day his father came in and found him playing with the pieces all over the floor. When he angrily demanded that his son put the pieces back on the board, the boy instantly replaced them in exactly the mid-game position in which he had found them.

There's a lot we don't know about how the mind works.

West Oversea

West Oversea Book Trailer:

Our friend Lars Walker has done something I haven't seen before, which is to make a video trailer for his book.



The book you can get here. Nicely done, Mr. Walker.

Project Valour IT

Project VALOUR-IT Update:

The fundraiser ends tomorrow, and we are very far from its goal. There is little chance we will reach it -- perhaps a war weary nation, in the deepest recession in generations, is hard pressed to find anything to offer.

Nevertheless, I hope you will read BLACKFIVE's post on the subject. Once you have you must do what you think is best, and what is right for your families at a difficult time.

A Stout Orange Flute

A Stout Orange Blade:

It's the 12th of July.



Happy Boyne Day, Major Leggett!

UPDATE: And since it is, why not an Irish night? The summer has few enough joys.









That last band is Sgian Dubh -- "Black Knife," the hidden blade a good warrior keeps secretly about himself at all times -- from Marietta, Georgia.

Here they are again:





And watch this one, from the same set. This was obviously done when the Clancy Brothers were at the height of fame, for the people in the good seats are too well-mannered to sing along in the spirit of the thing. The worse for them! Malory's gentleman -- take Uther Pendragon, whom Malory praised as "a lusty knyghte" -- would find his company in the cheap seats.

Boston Opera

Boston Early Music Festival:

I haven't been to Boston since 1996, when I took refuge there briefly from the Olympics that were bedeviling Atlanta. To judge from Heather Mac Donald's review, though, I'm sorry I am missing their Early Music Festival.

Steffani was a priest as well as composer, which suggests how differently that vocation was understood in the seventeenth century. Niobe’s libretto, written by a court secretary in Munich, Luigi Orlandi, contains some of the most voluptuously erotic writing since Monteverdi’s L’incoronazione di Poppea.... Niobe’s high point is an unworldly aria, “Sfere amiche” (friendly spheres), without counterpart before or since. Theban King Anfione, renown in classical myth for his supernatural musical powers, has abdicated his throne to devote himself to celestial contemplation. In a vision of mystical transcendence, he calls both on the celestial spheres to give his lips their harmony and on earthly nature to take its motion from his breathing.

More Shape Notes

More Shape Notes

I know someday I'll convert some of you. This clip has four excellent songs (Poland, Consecration, Stratfield, and China), performed by Irish singers at the First Ireland Sacred Harp Convention in a fine old church. The singers know what they're doing.

Poland

God of my life, look gently down

Behold the pain I feel

But I am dumb before Thy throne

Nor dare dispute Thy will

VALOURIT

Project VALOUR-IT Update:

The Marine team is behind somewhat, but overall the campaign is about a quarter of the way to its goal.



If you wish to contribute, you can do so by clicking the button below.

Barefoot Running

Running:

As close as to a weaving woman's breast the bar
of warp is drawn, when accurately she passes
shuttle and spool along the meshing web
and holds to her breast one weighted bar, so close
in second place Odysseus ran: his feet
came sprinting in the other's tracks before
the dust fell, and on Aias' nape he blew
hot breath as he ran on. All the Akhaians
cheered for Odysseus, the great contender
and called to him as he ran with laboring heart.
But entering the last hundred yards, Odysseus
prayed in his heart to the grey-eyed one, Athena:

"Hear me, goddess: come, bless me with speed!

-The Iliad, Book 23, translated by Robert Fitzgerald

Another thing that I have been doing lately is running barefoot. This is something that came from my sister, whose running has lately come to embrace marathons. A few years ago in New York, she studied with Christopher McDougall, author of Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes, and the Greatest Race the World has Never Seen. His thesis is that humanity evolved to hunt through long-distance running, pacing prey to exhaustion. Running therefore should come as naturally to us as it does to wolves, loping over the hills.

The key secret hit me like a thunderbolt. It was so simple, yet such a jolt. It was this: everything I’d been taught about running was wrong. We treat running in the modern world the same way we treat childbirth—it’s going to hurt, and requires special exercises and equipment, and the best you can hope for is to get it over with quickly with minimal damage.

Then I meet the Tarahumara, and they’re having a blast. They remember what it’s like to love running, and it lets them blaze through the canyons like dolphins rocketing through waves. For them, running isn’t work. It isn’t a punishment for eating. It’s fine art, like it was for our ancestors. Way before we were scratching pictures on caves or beating rhythms on hollow trees, we were perfecting the art of combining our breath and mind and muscles into fluid self-propulsion over wild terrain. And when our ancestors finally did make their first cave paintings, what were the first designs? A downward slash, lightning bolts through the bottom and middle—behold, the Running Man.

Odysseus is an interesting example of that ethic from the ancient Greek. Reading his description in the Iliad, he is the last of the heroes we would think of as likely to win contests for speed: he is shorter than the other heroes, for one thing, and somewhat older than many.

To the Greeks it seemed natural that he should nevertheless be a great runner. In the Homeric period of literature, there is an emphasis on what later Greeks would call "essential nature." Odysseus' essential nature is to be a troublemaker -- that is what the name "Odysseus" means. He is therefore wily in strategy and counsel, speedy with his glib tongue and, when necessary, his feet. This is why, when the Trojan scout Dolon comes down to spy upon the Greek camp, Odysseus is one of the two Greeks who is wary enough to spot him, and speedy enough to catch one of Troy's fastest runners.

Mr. McDougall has the opposite physical problems: he is six-foot-four, and weighs over two hundred pounds. When asked about whether that suggests that he isn't built for running, he scoffs. "I bought into that bull for a loooong time.... so many doctors are reinforcing this learned helplessness, this idea that you have to be some kind of elite being to handle such a basic, universal movement."

My own experience has been that my feet have toughened up nicely over the last few months, so that running is easy on sand, concrete, grass, or any other surface except superheated summer blacktop. It is more pleasant than any running I can remember having done, except when I used to run over Burnt Mountain -- and that was only because the surroundings were so much more beautiful, and so much better suited to my own essential nature.

Mothers Against Drunk Yogurt Making

Mothers Against Drunk Yogurt Making

My tiny nearby town boasts only two grocery stores, the WalMart and an HEB. Unfortunately both have stopped carrying the yogurt that I'm addicted to, a nice live-culture product called White Mountain. Recent events having impressed on me even more deeply than usual the importance of probiotics, I decided to take matters into my own hands and acquire a simple yogurt-maker, which has duly arrived in the mail. It's just a specialized sort of crockpot, really, a convenient nest for individual yogurt bottles and a low heat source so the little microbeasties can work overnight at a constant temperature.

Reading the directions, I stopped to ponder the surprisingly long list of "IMPORTANT SAFEGUARDS" for this simple device. Don't drop the device into water, for instance, while it's still plugged in. Even more important: "To unplug, grasp plug and pull from the electrical outlet." And again, further down the page, to reinforce the subtle and unfamiliar lesson: "Plug cord into the wall outlet. To disconnect remove plug from wall outlet." A third time: "To disconnect, turn any control to 'off,' then remove plug from wall outlet." I'm glad we got that cleared up before I had to call the helpline -- or an ambulance.

"Do not touch the parts that are not intended for manipulation." I'm so confused; what parts are intended for manipulation? There's an on/off switch, but that's about it, other than the lid. The warnings become even more dire: "Do not operate . . . while under the influence of alcohol or other substances that affect your reaction time or perception." I'm wondering whether I'll need certification training for this thing. What if my reaction times are off? What if I aim at the "on" switch and miss? Can I sue?

Finally, the only warning with plausible pertinence to the sort of danger a consumer could conceivably be in from a device that creates a live-culture food: "Do not keep yogurt in the refrigerator for more than 8-10 days." I don't actually believe that advice, so it's probably wasted on me, but OK, I'll think about it. Consider me warned.

On behalf of lawyers everywhere, I apologize for the destruction of our society and culture.

Don't Let This Man Near the Press Conference

Don't Let This Man Near the Press Conference

Iowahawk has some proposed questions for the President:

. . . Instead of making cars get 62 mpg, why not 62 million mpg? Also, do something about the gravitational constant.

. . . I let my Mexican drug lord license expire. Am I still eligible for the free machine gun program?

. . . When you said "days not weeks" did you mean Venusian days?

. . . Why do you need permission to be clear, and not need permission to bomb Libya?

. . . Would you get tougher with Iran if you knew they were working with Scott Walker?

. . . I just voted to increase my sobriety ceiling. Why won't the bartender give me another drink?

. . . If ATMs are so bad, why do you keep treating me like one?

. . . When you create jobs, why do always create them for Texas?

. . . If Eric Holder gets indicted in Operation Fast & Furious, should he get a civilian trial?

Death by Baseball

Living and Dying:

I've been thinking some more about our recent conversations because of yesterday's tragic story from Texas.

This has to be the saddest possible event at a baseball game. A man goes to a ballgame with his son — it's the ultimate American experience — and he dies trying to catch a ball. It's hard to comprehend.

As for the need to raise the railings, or not throw balls into the stands ... that's the crazy part. How many thousands of games happen where nobody gets hurt, and now this?

The same is true for the poor motorcycle rider who was killed, of course: how many thousands of miles did he ride without any incident?

We usually make reference to statistics in cases like this, as statistics allows us to overcome our actual experience. We may have the actual experience of having ridden thousands of miles in safety, but statistics show that the activity is dangerous in spite of abundant direct experience of safety.

Yet statistics are famously easy to manipulate. I've been reading up on motorcycle safety statistics since our discussion, to try and find out just how much helmets really do improve safety. Do they actually improve -- as I understand they do not, from conversations with other riders?

I'm still not sure, but I do now know that most surveys seem to be peformed either by (a) helmet manufacturers, or (b) groups that already believed that helmets were a good idea (e.g., Snell). Confirmation bias is a danger even for the hardest science; when political advocacy -- or profit -- is at issue, it's harder to rely on the claims of such studies. For example, I wasn't able to find anything like a dividing line on the speeds at which helmets seem to be effective at reducing risk of injury. That may mean no one thought to ask, or it may be that the question was intentionally not asked.

Finally, though, I've realized what it is about this discussion that has been bothering me. I've spoken of my friend the father of two special needs children, and how proud I am of how he soldiers on under this incredibly heavy weight. When we were talking about motorcycle riders, the point was made by several of you that a man who is a husband and father has a responsibility to limit his risks in order to continue to live to perform his duties to wives and children.

However, a life that has become a misery is a weight that is even more likely to kill a man than any motorcycle. Heart disease is strongly linked to stress, as are many other diseases; and a man who dies of a heart attack at 48, though he bore his burden faithfully, has left his wife and children just as completely widowed and orphaned.

I work hard to try and get my friend to come with me to the gym, or otherwise to find pleasure and exercise of vital faculties; but the man is run down. Without joy in life, death follows: and if an activity greatly brings you joy, even if it is a risky activity, it may be worth doing for that reason alone.

More, a miserable life is no fit reception to the wonder of creation. God may not be pleased with your sacrifice if you have taken the gift of life and squandered it -- not on risking death trying to catch a fly ball for your son, but on letting even the most wise and proper responsibility rob you of the joy and wonder that you should find in His creation. You needn't put that in theological terms to get the same point: Plato called this wonder, which was the beginning of all philosophy, thaumazein.

The good life, then, and our ideals about how to live it need to capture a space for that wonder and joy. This is a duty, and a moral duty, as imperative to the good life as meeting responsibilities. It often entails risk -- climbing mountains, riding horses, drinking beer of an evening with friends, standing up to dangerous men with evil in their hearts. These are the things that make life joyous, and therefore we must do them. When performing a duty, we take reasonable steps to mitigate risk -- but we perform our duty regardless of risk.

That seems to resolve the problem, and the paradox, from my perspective.

Ideals

The Masculine Ideal:

Recently we discussed some examples from Dr. Hodges' "Wounded Masculinity: Injury and Gender in Sir Thomas Malory's Le Morte Darthur." As I think more about it, I wonder if some of you might not be interested in his broader thesis. His piece is a pretty strong one in terms of suggesting that we should re-evaluate a lot of the assumptions of scholarship on what the masculine ideal might be.

In gender studies, critics frequently postulate a masculine ideal of
suave and potent invulnerability and then demonstrate how the
male characters in question inevitably fall short of it. Bryce Traister
has offered a thorough critique of this tendency in American studies,
arguing that the focus on “transcendent” masculinity obscures study
of “competent” masculinity—ideas of manliness as they are actually
practiced. Unfortunately, the same tendency can be seen in medieval
studies. While invulnerability and easy power may be fantasies for individual
men, these daydreams do not reflect the more realistic ideals of
manhood expressed in a work such as Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte
Darthur.

We examined several cases last time of knightly suffering -- not only in Malory, but in medieval nonfiction -- that show this alternative ideal at work.

These celebrations of knightly suffering as admirable penance mean
that injury was not simply a messy historical fact edited out of the
romanticized ideal of knighthood; instead, the ideal of masculinity that
chivalric texts celebrate is one that includes being wounded regularly.
This fits not only with the historical realities of knighthood but also
with the needs of narrative....

An example of how this narrative logic works is Arthur’s fight with
Accolon (1:141–47; 4.8–11). Although Merlin has told Arthur that Excalibur’s
scabbard is more valuable than the sword itself because it
prevents the wearer from losing blood (1:54; 1.25), this information
does not become an issue in any of Arthur’s fights until he meets Accolon,
and then it is Accolon who is wearing the scabbard. What follows
should be, according to some models of gender, the wreck of Arthur as
a man: he is pierced and bleeding, on the verge of defeat, and all as the
object of a woman’s gaze, since Nyneve is watching. The description of
the fight emphasizes Arthur’s blood falling from him, weakening him,
staining the ground. But Nyneve, instead of seeing him as feminized
and diminished, judges him a good knight and a man of worship because
of, not despite of, his suffering on the field (1:144; 4.10). Arthur’s
ability to bleed, although a liability in strictly practical terms, highlights
his bravery and commitment to his cause, in contrast to Accolon’s smug
safety. Instead of proving him less of a man, Arthur’s wounds illustrate
that he is full of pure knighthood...

[W]hen Launcelot runs mad, those who find him treat him
well: “Whan they sawe so many woundys upon hym, they demed that
he had bene a man of worship” (2:822; 12.3). Likewise, when Launcelot
is praising La Cote Mal Tayle, he points out to the Damsel Maldisaunt
the young knight’s wounds, not as signs of failure (as in the past she
might have considered them) but of honor: “Now may ye se . . . that
he ys a noble knyght, for to consider hys firste batayle, and his grevous
woundis. And evyn forthwithall, so wounded as he ys, hit ys mervayle
that he may endure thys longe batayle."

There's a lot more, though I may be pushing the limits of 'fair use' for this discussion if I quote more; but I think it's an interesting thesis. What do you think?

Gandalf

Gandalf:

Continuing the meditation on independence, I saw several fireworks displays this weekend, both government-run and privately-funded. The government run displays involved far more expensive fireworks, and were more elaborate; but the aggregate of the individual actors who bought their own fireworks was ultimately more impressive than the aggregate government displays.

There's probably a lesson in that somewhere, but our friends on the left might note that not everyone is a trained fireworks engineer; I noted the fact myself after watching a guy set off a mortar that exploded a fraction of a second after launch, perhaps ten feet in the air. No one was hurt, but they certainly could have been.

Independent people get to do this kind of stuff, even though it entails some significant risk. That's what freedom is. Sometimes, of course, freedom kills.

A New York man died Sunday while participating in a ride with 550 other motorcyclists to protest the state’s mandatory helmet law.

Police said Philip A. Contos, 55, hit his brakes and his motorcycle fishtailed. Contos was sent over the handlebars of his 1983 Harley Davidson and hit his head on the pavement.

I sometimes ride motorcycles without a helmet, and always ride horses without one (that's what Stetson hats are for). In fact it is truly pleasurable, tooling down a backroad or a two-lane highway, feeling the wind on your face, and without the heavy helmet wearying the muscles of your neck. I'm not sympathetic to the joyless nanny-state crowd that wants to tell me that their interest in having to pay for my possible medical care gives them the right to tell me that I shouldn't do dangerous things.

Keep your medical care, if it comes to that. (My sister, who shares more than my genetics, tells me she is taking up BASE jumping as her retirement plan.) I certainly do not wish to suffer head injuries or any other injuries; but I wouldn't want a safe life. It's not the life for me. If that means my life ends up being short, well, so be it; I'll run my hazards.

Independence Day

Independence Day:

I entered my specifications into Google, and the first hit was a Sugar Daddy dating site. “No way,” I thought. “I’m not a golddigger, I just want a man who has his shit together.” But the tagline had already hooked me– “Meet Wealthy Men Seeking to Spoil Beautiful Women!” It felt like I had just been challenged… was I attractive and charming enough to pique the interest of a successful millionaire? My mind raced. Is this thinly-veiled prostitution? Were there really men out there who wanted to buy me shoes? I like shoes! Was this going to affect how I identified myself as an intelligent, independent woman? PRESENTS! I caved. I set up a profile, paid the membership fee, and waited to see what would happen.

Independence is an interesting concept, and one that merits some discussion. Little Bill constitutes himself a defender of it -- and he is, presuming that by "independence" we mean the right to pass laws in concert which block the individual right to the means of self-defense. The people of that little town are independent if anyone is: any man who is interested is capable of joining the local militia, so the denial of self-defense is mostly aimed at outsiders. They build a great deal of power into their community, and use that power to enforce a law that denies basic rights to others. They are satisfied with the state they have built because they participate in it; it only oppresses others. That is independence, as long as they can retain control of the beast they have made.

The article, via the Sage of Knoxville, points to another kind of independent decision. The writer has independently chosen to become a dependent upon someone else; in return for affection, he pays her bills. She asserts that she is just as independent now as she was before -- perhaps moreso, having fewer bills and debts. It is a free choice she has made, which has made her in one sense freer yet; but in another, perhaps, less independent than she believes.

I don't raise the article to condemn, but to wonder at the way in which independence is a slippery thing. I gave up a great deal of my own independence when I married, some years ago; that was a free choice to become less free, to bind myself. At the time I was most independent, all I wanted was to find someone else to depend upon; at the time I was freest, I wanted nothing so much as to be bound. This seems to be true for individuals and for peoples, for towns and for nations. Freed of all obligations in 1781, we turned at once to forging new chains, laws, and orders.

UPDATE: More thoughts on the question from E. J. Dionne:

[O]ur friends in the Tea Party have offered a helpful clue by naming their movement in honor of the 1773 revolt against tea taxes on that momentous night in Boston Harbor.

Whether they intend it or not, their name suggests they believe that the current elected government in Washington is as illegitimate as was a distant, unelected monarchy.

Most of these last ten years, since 9/11, I've placed myself at the service of the United States government in one capacity or another. The military of the United States is by far the best part of its several bureaucracies; too, it has the benefit of being pointed outward, so that its mistakes are felt by others instead of ourselves. They work very hard to avoid civilian casualties in drone strikes, for example, but nevertheless once in a while it does happen. This is the best the United States has to offer, and having seen it up close for a long time, I am very glad to have the force of that system pointed elsewhere. The parts of the Federal government that point at us are far less pleasant, and less noble, and we might be happier to do without them.

I think that there may indeed be something illegitimate about a government as large and as distant as this one has become. Legitimacy in politics comes from a relationship between yourself and the state: it is the relationship of parent to child, more or less. A family relationship binds best when it is closest. A father and a son are tightly bound if they live together, and are close; but a father who walked away in youth would exercise far less legitimate authority, and a fifth cousin almost none.

The town council, the parent-teacher association, these are close relationships; the state is farther away, but our representative is close enough that we can know him and be sure of his vote. Congress is so far away that we get little more than form letters even from our individual representatives or Senators; and these are too small to much shift the weight of the great Federal bureaucracy.

A legitimate government might need to be small, small enough to hear the voice of the one man who has something important to say. The question is whether such a government can survive: lacking a Leviathan like our military, what would keep such a government intact against the winds of the world? In this hour, it is our task and honor to be that Leviathan; but I often wonder if, though we devote a great deal of our efforts to trying to do it in a moral as well as an effective way, we will be forgiven for all we must do to preserve the order of the world. As General McChrystal said, we have shot an amazing number of people.

Whether or not our government can still claim to be legitimate, America is certainly no longer independent. We have taken on the burden of holding up the world; and thus we are bound to it. Events in Thailand or Yemen or Zanzibar, small places on the other side of the world, echo in our halls and keep us awake at night. Their problems are our own. Perhaps this is what we always wanted; in any case, I do not know how to lay the burden down, or if it is right that we should.

This post is more akin to Kipling's "Recessional" than it is to a celebration of our nation; and for that I apologize, my friends. I hope your holiday was a fine one, and my troubled thoughts do not limit your enjoyment of your friends and family.

VALOURITUSMC

Project VALOUR-IT: Annual Fundraiser

Again this year, I have been asked to participate in the USMC team, Project VALOUR-IT. I always agree to do this even though I have no idea how to go about asking for someone's money; and especially in hard times like this -- the economy is bad, many of you may be out of work or underemployed, and the government is pressing so many new regulations and taxes that it will be hard for any recovery to be possible -- people often simply can't be sure that they can afford to give anything.

Nevertheless, VALOUR-IT deserves your attention because it helps those who have already given to you. As surely all of you know by now, the name stands for Voice Activated Laptops for OUR Injured Troops. The project was started by Chuck Ziegenfuss, based on his own experience of being without the use of his hands following an encounter with an IED in Iraq. He has since returned to service, and is doing very well; but in addition to his continued service to our country, he has devoted himself to helping those soldiers and Marines, sailors and airmen who may follow him through the hard path of recovery.

Honor is sacrifice, and this project honors those who have sacrificed a great deal for us. It is right and proper that we should honor, and sacrifice, for them. Therefore, please consider donating as you are able; and even if it is not much that you can spare, remember the story of the widow's mite.

"If This Goes On --"

"If This Goes On --"

I've found an entertaining site for speculative fiction fans like myself, called Paleofuture: The Future That Never Was." The host finds old stories and articles speculating about the future, then looks at what was easy to foresee and what snuck up on everyone. This entry caught my eye: it speculated that future governments would turn most issues into instant public referenda by publicizing the dispute and asking everyone to vote on it electronically at once. Somehow nothing like that seems to have happened. It amuses me to read, nevertheless, because the yearning behind the prediction is for something we already have in an important institution: the free market. The whole theory of the free market is that billions of individual decisions get made in real time every day, spread out to the individual consumers in the farthest corners of the nation and world. These decisions control the allocation of our scarce resources that have alternative uses, merely by setting prices that respond to supply and demand. It's inefficient, wasteful, and cold-blooded, and has only the advantage that it produces more widespread prosperity and avoids more misery than any other system ever tried.

Our government reflects the prevailing mindset of Americans, which is to pay lip service to the free market but not really to trust it very thoroughly. I'd be awfully surprised to see the government moving toward frequent plebiscites on any important issues if they could possibly avoid it. Robert Tracinski opines today on RealClearMarkets about how it can have happened that the current administration can have achieved an expense education without learning the first thing about how our economy works:

Consider Obama's background. He grew up among leftists, his childhood mentors were outright communists, and he then went off to academia, where he spent his formative years in an environment where business and profit-making are looked down upon as ugly, dirty, rapacious, immoral. Is it any mystery why he doesn't know about business or economics? Asking him to study the economics of the free market is like asking one of the old New England Puritans to thumb through a manual on sex education. Why immerse oneself in a subject that is so unseemly? Why make a study of how to be immoral?

Meanwhile, what I'm hoping for from the future is a better way to perform a certain exam that people of my age are all too familiar with. Preparation the day before involves drinking a very large quantity of a substance that tastes like melted jello infused with the flavor of old latex gloves, flavored with off-brand diet soda. I hope all your prayers and good thoughts will be with me as I await the results this afternoon.

Institutions

An Institution:

This is a fascinating account of the development of Trinity College, where many of the most powerful women in America were educated.

Some of you may be put off by the fact that the article is clearly celebrating liberal women leaders, but don't be. This story is a very important one, as it highlights the way that crucial institutions are built. The builders in this case are spirited Catholic nuns.

If our civilization is to be saved, we also must build institutions. Recapturing and repairing broken ones may sometimes be possible, but very often it is easier -- and wiser -- to start anew.

In Catholicism, different religious orders describe themselves as each having a distinct “charism.” The term refers partly to the basic mission of an order, but also to a more intangible set of attitudes—a spiritual temperament that traces back to the group’s founding. The charism of the Sisters of Notre Dame de Namur involves running schools for women and girls. More than that, though, it entails a spirit of ambitious enterprise and fierce autonomy—a refusal to take no for an answer in the face of institutional authority.

We need some institutions each having a charism fitting our project. Yet I honestly would not know how to begin; I suppose you must begin with money.

Etiquette

Etiquette:

Normally, when one has a guest who violates some rule of manners, it is most praiseworthy to avoid drawing attention to it. When that person happens to wish to join your family -- so that they are petitioning not merely to be a guest, but a daughter -- there may be occasions when you have to express your dismay. After all, once married into your family, their bad manners will stand as a charge against you and your entire family!

Needless to say, this is precisely the opposite of the reaction of the journalist covering this story.

Southerners

"Southerners"

Dad29 had an interesting piece on a critic who worried -- in the 1930s -- that "Southern" ideas no longer received a fair hearing.

Can principles enunciated as Southern principles, of whatever cast, get a hearing?” he inquired in The Attack on Leviathan. “ . . . It seems to be a rule that the more special the program and the more remote it is from Southern principles, the greater the likelihood of its being discussed and promulgated. Southerners who wish to engage in public discussion in terms that do not happen to be of common report in the New York newspapers are likely to be met, at the levels where one would least expect it, with the tactics of distortion, abuse, polite tut-tutting, angry discrimination and so on down to the baser devices of journalistic lynching which compose the modern propagandist’s stock in trade. This is an easy and comparatively certain means of discrediting an opponent and of thus denying him a hearing.

As Dad29 points out, the "South" was only the leading edge here: the mechanism is currently being employed against rural Americans regardless of how northerly their point of origin. The relentless 'distortion, abuse, tut-tutting and discrimination' aimed at Sarah Palin during her run for the Vice Presidency is exactly of this type; and Alaska is pretty far north!

We're seeing the same thing aimed at Rep. Michelle Bachmann, and Christopher Hitchens -- whom I've often praised for his several good qualities -- gave the game away:

Where does it come from, this silly and feigned idea that it's good to be able to claim a small-town background? It was once said that rural America moved to the cities as fast as it could, and then from urban to suburban as fast as it could after that. Every census for decades has confirmed this trend. Overall demographic impulses to one side, there is nothing about a bucolic upbringing that breeds the skills necessary to govern a complex society in an age of globalization and violent unease. We need candidates who know about laboratories, drones, trade cycles, and polychrome conurbations both here and overseas. Yet the media make us complicit in the myth—all politics is yokel?—that the fast-vanishing small-town life is the key to ancient virtues. Wasilla, Alaska, is only the most vivid recent demonstration of the severe limitations of this worldview. But still it goes on. Hence one's glee at the resulting helpings of custard.

While I share Hitchen's enthusiasm for the Libyan adventure -- if only it were properly pursued -- I find his disdain for the rural to be remarkably ill-informed. I have lived in small towns and big ones, urban America and rural America and densely-populated China; and of it all, rural America really does have a special set of virtues. I trust the gentleman from England doesn't realize it, perhaps having missed the opportunity -- or, perhaps, he simply lacks the right kind of eye.

Still, there is something to be said for the prejudice. Cities also produce a number of disagreeable qualities, and frankly I hate them. I hate them never more than when I'm forced to be inside one for any extended period. Yet it is good that there are cities, if only so that there are fewer people in the woods. The more people who share the prejudice, the more likely I am to be left in peace.