The backlash begins

Has there ever been a clearer instance of political correctness than NPR firing Juan Williams for his statement that seeing people in Muslim garb on his airplane causes him anxiety? This is, of course, a near universal reaction among flyers, and understandably so.

Williams didn't say that all Muslims are terrorists, nor did he say that Muslims ought not be allowed to fly. He merely gave voice to personal feelings which almost all of us have experienced.

And how ironic that the victim of this political correctness would be a liberal black man, especially Williams, who never emits anything but nice guy vibes. 

But at least there was a huge public outcry against these thought police. Maybe there's a tiny ray of hope for the cause of honesty after all.

Jimmy McMillan

(Jimmy McMillan)

I didn't watch the televised New York gubernatorial debate the other night, but supposedly third party candidate Jimmy McMillan stole the show by repeating several times, "The rent is too damn high."

McMillan's statement resonated with New Yorkers. The movie Men in Black II must have resonated with him. In one scene Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith get into a scrape with a group of aliens. Jones dispatches a couple of them, then kicks the last one between the legs, to no effect. Mystified, he does it a second time, again to no effect. Will Smith then yells out to him, "He's a Ballchinian!" Jones then pulls down the alien's scarf to reveal his unique anatomy, kicks him there, and the fight ends.

Perhaps that scene will prove instructive to McMillan's gubernatorial rivals.

Cat's Cradle

The twelve hours I spent in a car yesterday went quicker than they otherwise might have thanks to Kurt Vonnegut. I listened to Cat's Cradle in its entirety. I hadn't read it in over thirty years, but my belief in its greatness remains unchanged.

One of the central characters of the book, Felix Hoenikker, is described as "the father of the atom bomb." He invents "ice-nine," a type of ice which only melts at 130 degrees Fahrenheit. It also sets off an instantaneous chain reaction converting any water it comes into contact with into ice-nine, meaning that if it comes into contact with any large body of water that pretty much means the end of the world. As his legacy he has left each of his three children a tiny sliver of the ice.

Vonnegut had fought in WWII, and several of his books, most notably Mother Night, deal with the horrors of war. While listening yesterday I thought that Hoenikker must have been based on either J. Robert Oppenheimer or Edward Teller, and that the idea of ice-nine was inspired by the doubts about the very first atomic bomb test at White Sands Proving Ground in New Mexico. (Scientists were originally unsure as to whether the nuclear explosion would set off a chain reaction which would incinerate the entire world.)

But upon reading Wikipedia this morning, it turns out that Vonnegut's inspiration for Hoenikker was neither of those men, but rather Irving Langmuir, a scientist he had come into contact with while working in General Electric's PR department after the war. Langmuir had evidently actually originated the concept of ice-nine himself, as a way to amuse H. G. Wells, whom he had met in the 1930's.

Vonnegut's characterization of Hoenikker as a man who lives on a different plane than most humans, and who is emotionally uninvolved, even with his own children, is actually a perfect description of someone with Asperger's Syndrome, that mild form of autism which has only become widely recognized in the past two decades. (Vonnegut wrote the book in 1963.) Some people with Asperger's, partly because of their intense focus on one thing, are capable of tremendous insights. (It is thought that Einstein may have had Asperger's.)

Vonnegut's understanding of a syndrome as yet unclassified, as well as his insights into the essential silliness of social status, institutional association, mindless patriotism, and even romantic love, are all evidence of his genius. His ability to tie all these things together into an entertaining story is why he deserves to be re-read.

Sociopath alert: Robert McMahon

The NY Post ran the following article this morning:

Brooklyn bum fakes war wound for cash

Semper fake!

For years, Brooklyn commuters have opened their wallets for Robert McMahon, handing cash to this heroic and heartbreaking figure, a Vietnam vet in combat fatigues, his left arm missing and his right leg crippled, as he panhandles on Ocean Parkway in Kensington.

He plays to their patriotism, having scrawled his nickname, "Rambo," on the back of his camouflage jacket, along with his years of service with the Marines and two stints in 'Nam that saw heavy action. The top of his empty left sleeve is pinned to his uniform shoulder, and he drags his bum leg behind him.

Photos: Alex Rud

Robert Mc Mahon appears an arm short.

While begging for cash in Brooklyn, he plays up his phony stints in Vietnam.

At day's end, he counts his cash - with both fully functioning arms.

When drivers stop for red lights, McMahon, 53, hobbles over and salutes gallantly, juggling a paper cup and a cardboard sign that reads, "Vietnam vet." They give freely.

They are being scammed.

McMahon has two arms -- and was seen using them last week to count the wads of cash he took off kindhearted New Yorkers.

He is not crippled, as was readily apparent when he swiftly dodged inquiring Post reporters.

And it seems he never served in the Marines nor in Vietnam, according to Corps and Veterans Administration officials who could not find any record of him...

Tuesday, The Post spotted the bearded, one-armed bandit at 4:30 p.m. at Ocean and Foster Avenue, where he limped over to the windows of idling vehicles and held up his cup. Many gave dollar bills. He yelled an expletive at a driver who turned him away.

At 5:09 p.m., McMahon quit for the day, darted across Ocean Parkway's seven lanes with surprising agility and walked briskly east along Foster. Two blocks later, McMahon adjusted himself and quickly thrust his left arm out from under his jacket. He used both hands to count his cash.

When he realized a photographer was taking his picture, McMahon tried to hide his left arm by putting it behind his back, then spat and screamed obscenities at the lensman, threatening to kill him. "I'll put a bullet in the back of your head," he howled....

Most people, when caught red-handed in a lie, display some sort of contriteness, or at the very least, embarrassment. Only a sociopath gets angry. (Remember Bill Clinton wagging his finger at his accuser and angrily saying, "I did not have sex with that woman"?)

But we didn't even have to see that particular behavior to be apprised of McMahon's sociopathy. The essence of sociopathy is dishonesty, and there is no form of dishonesty more manipulative than to pose as something one is not, in order to gain either plaudits or sympathy. But McMahon poses as an armless man. A cripple. And a Viet Nam vet. None of which he is. All to manipulate others' emotions and take advantage of them.

(Where else have we heard this recently? Oh, that's right, Richard Blumenthal, who is running for U.S. Senator. Of course, he doesn't want your money, just your vote.)

Most of us would be too ashamed to cadge money -- or votes -- from strangers under such false pretexts. We'd also be fearful of the hatred which would accrue were we caught. But sociopaths don't feel shame, nor are they fearful of social censure.

That is the key to the behavior of more people than you realize. Next time you come across someone who gets angry when you catch them red-handed, be aware that they have a whole list of other loathsome traits which you really don't want to uncover one by one. They are impulsive, disloyal, extremely manipulative, and wildly egotistical and egocentric. Most importantly, no matter now much they pretend otherwise, they care no more for you than you care for the well-being of the meat on your plate. 

Which is basically how they regard you.

Finally, that proverbial headline

This article appeared in the NY Post today:

Connecticut man bitten by police dog bites back

When a man in West Haven, Conn., was bitten by a police dog after attacking an officer, he bit the dog back.

Roderick Lewis, 23, allegedly approached a police officer on a West Haven street early Thursday morning and yelled out "I need a bag of dust," referring to the drug phencyclidine, also known as angel dust or PCP.

Lewis walked toward the officer, Scott Bloom, and reached into his waistband. When Bloom grabbed the man's arms to restrain him, Lewis punched the officer in the face, WVIT-TV reported Friday.

Onyx, the police dog, jumped from Bloom’s vehicle and attacked Lewis, latching onto his leg, but Lewis bit back -- he chomped down on the dog's side and did not release his bite until Bloom could pull him off Onyx.

Lewis was charged with assault on a police officer, disorderly conduct and cruelty to animals, while Bloom and Onyx were treated for their injuries.

Too bad they probably don't have a tape of the encounter, they could have sold it to one of those nature shows as an animal fight.

Then again, while Mr. Lewis doesn't sound like the most upstanding citizen, I'm not sure he should be charged with cruelty to animals: after all, the dog bit him first.

Mr. Teleprompter

(President Obama speaking to elementary school students in Falls Church, Virginia)

Barack Obama's reliance on Teleprompters has become legendary. He is the first President to even use them for press conferences. Even W, stumbling and inarticulate as he was, didn't use them there. One must admire, however, whoever it is who can write Obama's answers so quickly in response to the questions asked.

Even Chris Matthews, the MSNBC host who famously felt shivers going up his leg when he heard Obama speak during the Presidential campaign, is put off. The other day he disgustedly said that when Obama has a meeting with a group of business leaders at the White House, he brings in the Teleprompter so he can talk to them. Matthews asked, "What's the point of even having a meeting with them if all he's going to do is speak from the Teleprompter? There's no connection there."

From shivers to contempt, in less than two years. And on MSNBC, no less.

The Wizard of Oz no longer looms as large in our collective culture as it once did. But one has to wonder if those elementary school students were reminded of the movie while listening to Obama read from the teleprompter in their classroom:

"Pay no attention to that man behind the screen! I am the great and powerful Oz!"

At least the Wizard wrote his own lines.

The velvet rope

There was a reference in this morning's NY Times TV listings to some fashionable fellow who had never seen a velvet rope he hadn't been able to negotiate. It reminded me of an experience I had around twenty-five years ago with such a barrier.

A new nightclub had opened up in lower Tribeca, within walking distance of where I worked. It had just opened up and therefore attracted the kind of crowd which always wanted to try the latest, hottest thing. A friend (http://justnotsaid.blogspot.com/2009/07/strongest-guy-i-ever-met.html) and I happened to be in the vicinity and, curious about the club, got in line outside the little barrier they had erected (it may have been a velvet rope, I can't remember exactly).

We were never picked to go in. Others were whisked by; we were studiously ignored. Many of those let in were actually good-looking women, who of course always get through in such situations. But various men, most dressed in hipper clothes than the business suits my friend and I wore, were also whisked by.

Eventually my friend gave voice to the thought that had been lurking in back of my mind but which I hadn't wanted to acknowledge yet: "They're not going to give us a second look."

It was pure humiliation.

There are five stages you go through when this happens to you -- not entirely unlike Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross's widely-cited five stages of grief.

The first is frustration. ("C'mon, I'm getting impatient just standing here.")

The second is disbelief. ("He must not have noticed me.")

Next is anger. ("Who does he think he is?")

Next is outrage combined with compensatory conceit. ("I'm smarter, richer, a better athlete than that loser. How dare he judge me!")

The fifth, and final step, is justification. ("Oh well, I'm leading a pretty good life and that lowlife is never going to be anything but a doorman.")

The problem is, the doorman has the last laugh, because your private thoughts regarding him remain private -- unless you're truly compulsive.

Of course, the best therapy is, as always, a really lousy memory.

The life I've lived, and the memory I'm cursed with, I could write an entire book on rejection. Maybe I should. It would probably sell.

Then again, it would probably just be rejected by the publishers like every other book I've written in the last ten years.

Bullying

(above, Tyler Clementi; at right, Dharun Ravi and Molly Wei)





The suicide of Rutgers student Tyler Clementi after his roommate secretly recorded him having a gay tryst and then streamed that recording on the internet has attracted must attention recently. Some are demanding that Clementi's roommate, Dharun Ravi and his accomplice Molly Wei be charged with manslaughter and receive sentences of up to ten years.

There have been other similar cases recently: thirteen-year-old Seth Walsh, from Tehachapi, California, hung himself in his backyard after classmates teased him about his sexual orientation. Gay teenagers are evidently four times more likely to commit suicide; certainly there should be protections for the vulnerable against this kind of bullying.

But it's hard not to wonder about the nature of the punishment warranted here. What if Tyler Clementi had not committed suicide, but had merely laughed off this intrusion into his privacy? What would be the appropriate punishment for the other two be in that case? Explusion from school? There certainly wouldn't be any calls for ten year jail sentences. But had Clementi laughed them off, their crime would have been no different than it was: a grotesque invasion of his privacy. Ravi and Wei had no idea he was going to commit suicide after they exposed him. They thought they were playing an ordinary practical joke. It was certainly an insensitive and cruel joke, but it could have turned out relatively harmlessly had Clementi not reacted so dramatically.

Neither of the the two culprits looks like a prototypical bully. In fact, both look more like types more likely to be bullied themselves. But the internet has allowed technological skill to replace physical dominance as a vehicle for harassment. This raises the question of exactly what constitutes bullying. Is it bullying when someone makes fun of someone else? It would seem that one person's bullying is another person's well-deserved putdown. Do pretentious people not deserve to be put down? I recently made fun of artist Richard Serra in this blog. What if, Serra, in a depressive mood, happened to stumble across this blog and then committed suicide? Would I be guilty of bullying? Should I be charged with manslaughter? (Three guesses as to where I alight on this issue.) Making fun of some pretentious public person is a far cry from invading a closeted gay boy's privacy. But what of the classmates of the 13 year old boy who hanged himself in Tehachapi? They didn't invade his privacy, they merely mocked him; should they be charged with manslaughter?

What if, after seeing that his secret gay tryst had been exposed, Clementi had merely punched Ravi in the face? Wouldn't we all cheer this well-deserved comeuppance? But then of course Clementi would have been guilty of aggravated assault, and he would have been the one to be legally liable for what most of us would regard as a perfectly understandable outburst. And what if, when Clementi punched his roommate, his roommate had then run out of the room (without Clementi pursuing him), and in the process of doing so, slipped, broken his neck, and died? Then Clementi would be the villain of the piece, and would undoubtedly be incarcerated -- even though this would have been a direct outgrowth of a reaction we were all cheering for a moment ago.

Outcomes cannot always be predicted.

And what of Clementi's partner in that gay tryst? His name hasn't been aired, which is as it should be. But what has his reaction been? He is probably saddened by Tyler's death, outraged by the invasion of his privacy, and gratified that Ravi and Wei are now going to be punished severely. But he himself hasn't committed suicide; he evidently has a more sturdy temperament. Are Ravi and Wei less culpable in his case?

And what other factors may have led to Clementi's drastic action? He undoubtedly had a history that predisposed him to suicide. Is it possible that his father at some point communicated a visceral disgust for homosexuals and Tyler was afraid of coming out for that reason? Does his father bear some responsibility here? And what of the high school classmates who may have picked on Clementi for being a wimpy violin player? Did they contribute to his state of mind -- and thus this tragic outcome -- as well? If Ravi and Wei are to be charged with manslaughter, these others might as well be charged as accomplices.

Ravi and Wei should be expelled from Rutgers and charged with the applicable laws regarding invasion of privacy. And they richly deserve whatever social ostracism is coming their way. But they are not responsible for Clementi's fragile emotional state, and should not be charged with manslaughter.

Riddle #2

Guy just sent another riddle in response:

You have a fox, a chicken and a bag of corn.  You need to get them to the other side of the river.  You can only take one at a time.  If you leave the chicken alone with corn, he will eat the corn.  If you leave the fox alone with the chicken, he will eat the chicken.

How do you do it?

If you want the answer to this one, scroll down:











The key to this one is that you can bring any of them back as well as across the river. One answer would be to bring the chicken across the river, return to get the fox, drop the fox off and pick up the chicken, return with the chicken, then drop it off and pick up the corn, bring the corn across, and finally return to pick up the chicken.

Riddle

Q: There are two Indian tribes in Montana. One is the Whitefeet, who always tell the truth. The other is the Blackfeet, who always lie. You are hiking, and come to a fork in the road. Down one path lies the treasure you've been looking for, and down the other, a man-eating grizzly and certain death. An Indian stands at the fork in the road, but you don't know which tribe he's from. You get to ask him one question to find out which path to take. What question do you ask him?

I pretty much ruined a dinner party the other night by posing this riddle. All conversation stopped and everybody spent the rest of their meal trying to get the answer.

If you want the answer, scroll down:













You ask the Indian, "If you were a member of the other tribe, and I were to ask you which is the safe path, what would you tell me?" Then, whichever path he indicates, take the other one. Because a Whitefoot would tell you the truth about a Blackfoot's lie, and a Blackfoot would lie about the Whitefoot's honest answer, so whichever tribe the fellow you're talking to is from, he'll give you the wrong answer.

A unifying force

Yahoo News ran the following Time Magazine article this morning:

Phelps v. Snyder: Supreme Court Case Tackles Hate Speech

 

AP – Shirley Phelps-Roper, a member of the Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kan., protests in front of the … 

 

By ADAM COHEN - Wed Sep 29, 5:55 am ET

After Matthew Snyder, a U.S. Marine, was killed in Anbar province in Iraq in 2006, some uninvited guests showed up at his funeral at St. John's Catholic Church in Westminster, Md. The Rev. Fred W. Phelps Sr. of the Westboro Baptist Church and several family members came from Kansas holding signs reading "Thank God for Dead Soldiers," "God Hates Fags" and "You're Going to Hell."

There is no question it was hateful stuff. Phelps' self-styled church preaches that God is punishing America because of its tolerance for homosexuality, especially in the military. The Phelps family makes its point by holding protests at military funerals. The Phelpses also posted an "epic poem" online entitled "The Burden of Marine Lance Cpl. Matthew A. Snyder," which, among other things, says to his parents, "you raised him for the devil."

Snyder's father, Albert Snyder, sued. He said that the protests, at the funeral of his only son, made him violently ill. He prevailed on his claims of invasion of privacy and intentional infliction of emotional distress and won a large damage award, but that ruling was reversed on appeal.

Next week, the Supreme Court will hear arguments in the case [which revolve around free speech].....

Perhaps some slack should be cut for the Reverend Phelps and his followers on the grounds that they are obviously insane: If you're anti-homosexual, why protest against the armed forces, which are themselves bastions of anti-gay sentiment? And if you want to win people over to your cause, is there any possible worse way to do it than to harass the grieving relatives at the funeral of a young man who just gave his life for his (and your) country?

(Or maybe Phelps is a secret operative for the gay cause; if so, he's quite effective.)

In the meantime, let us enjoy this one brief, shining moment of national unity, as Democrats and Republicans put aside their partisan squabbling and unite in the commonality of their feelings about Phelps. 

Tax brackets

There has been a lot of publicity recently about whether or not Congress should let the Bush tax cuts expire for the wealthiest taxpayers, i.e., single people making above $200,000 a year or married couples making above $250,000.

We've all heard the arguments for and against, with those for letting them expire saying that the wealthiest should pay their fair share and that we need to reduce the deficit. Those against letting them expire say that doing so would hurt small businesses and that in many communities that amount of money doesn't really make you wealthy.

I lean towards extending the tax cuts, but it's not a passionate feeling.

What I do feel strongly about -- and am surprised there hasn't been any talk about -- is how ludicrous it is to have only one tax bracket for people making above $250,000. True, a single guy making $200,000 in, say, Nebraska, is going to have a pretty nice lifestyle. But a married couple in Manhattan who both work and make $250,000 to support themselves and three children are not rich by any stretch. They will have very little discretionary spending money.

So why should they be taxed at the same rate as a couple who make a million dollars a year? There should be gradations of tax rates for those who make over half a million a year, a million a year, and five million a year. To lump a hedge fund manager who makes ten million a year in with a dentist and his accountant wife who together make a quarter million a year is ludicrous. They should be in different tax brackets.

Of course, it's the hedge fund managers and their ilk who finance political campaigns (both Democrat and Republican) for the most part, so don't expect any change.

Addendum, 9/30/10: The very next day the NY Times ran an article saying the exact same thing. I take it all back!

Arthur "Pinch " Sulzberger II

The following AP article appeared on Yahoo News today: 

NKorea: Kim Jong Il's son named to political posts


SEOUL, South Korea – The youngest son of North Korean leader Kim Jong Il was elected to leadership roles in the ruling Workers' Party, state media said early Wednesday, bolstering speculation he's being groomed to succeed his father as leader of the nuclear-armed nation.

The announcement of Kim Jong Un's election to key party positions came a day after Kim Jong Il made him a four-star general. The announcement of his promotion marked his official debut in North Korean state media.

The son was named vice chairman of the party's Central Military Commission as well as to the party's Central Committee, North Korea's official Korean Central News Agency said in a dispatch from Pyongyang. The posts would be the son's first known political posts.

Kim Jong Un is 28 years old. What an amazing military career he must have had to already be a four star general at that tender age.

It's always good to see merit rewarded, whether in a communist country or just at a leftist newspaper.

Needed: a gentleman farmer

Spoke to my son the other day. He is finishing up basic training at Ft. Benning. Among other questions, I asked him what the drill sergeants were like. He said they were fine, not at all the sadists they are sometimes portrayed as in the movies. He said they were mostly just normal guys who had been assigned the job even if they hadn't necessarily wanted it.

The concept of having people do jobs they don't particularly want has some merit. Over time, the Army must have noticed that certain types gravitated towards the job of drill sergeant, and these were often the people least suited for the job. So they started assigning people that job whether or not they wanted it. This probably saved a lot of recruits a lot of unnecessary grief at the hands of men who wanted free rein to indulge their bullying tendencies.

Often, people gravitate to jobs for the worst of reasons. Child molesters become scout troop leaders, or priests; sadists become interrogators or prison guards. If these jobs were somehow assigned more randomly, there would be fewer of the wrong people drawn to them. A pederast might not be happy working at an old age home, but at least he would have less opportunity to do mischief.

We live in a free society and certainly people should be free to pursue whatever career they want. And nobody would want a society which assigned occupations by lottery. Perhaps what we need is simply more psychological screening for certain jobs -- like scout troop leader or prison guard.

One of the jobs which could use a little more psychological screening is that of politician. Too often, politicians are narcissists and even sociopaths. These are people who crave public approval and just attention in general. Becoming a politician is a complicated process that requires connections, skill at fundraising, and an ability to glibly lie. These are not the skills we would necessarily want in a leader; but they are the ones our system breeds.

Given this, wouldn't it be better for a committee of wise men to just pick a President? This is of course wildly unrealistic: who would pick the committee of wise men? But think of how much better a President we could get.

George Washington, after leading the Revolutionary Army to victory, retired to his farm. According to our history books, he was then essentially drafted to become our first President. He is, to my knowledge, the last man to become President reluctantly. In the last eighty years, most of our Presidents have schemed and plotted and connived and lied their way to the job. (The sole exception might be John F. Kennedy, whose father schemed and plotted and connived JFK's way to the top.)

Wouldn't it be preferable, psychologically speaking, to have someone who didn't so obviously lust for the job? Wouldn't it be better, rather than to have a man who will do or say anything to get the job, to have one whose initial reaction is, I don't really want that job?

To effect this, we would have to pluck someone out of obscurity. Perhaps we could draft a gentleman farmer. Or a war hero. Or a high school teacher. It would certainly be better than our current system of most ambitious (and thus, often, worst) man wins. We might not get someone who was prepared for the stress of the job, but we also wouldn't get an arrogant, dishonest man with a great sense of entitlement, either. The only requirements would be good character and an IQ over 150.

Such a system would probably be unworkable, but it does have its merits.

Inspirational

The story of an incredible hero, which ends on the perfect note:

http://www.nypost.com/p/news/opinion/opedcolumnists/unbreakable_nwd2yUdK4KoALnCrJDXfsI

Art imitates life -- too well

The following article appeared in the NY Times online edition this afternoon:

Rusting in a Crane Yard, Steel Art With a Pedigree

Richard Perry/The New York Times

A massive sculpture by Richard Serra stands in a fenced lot in the South Bronx. 

By Sam Dolnick

To see gargantuan steel sculptures fashioned by Richard Serra, you could visit the Guggenheim in Bilbao, Spain, or the Ida: Beacon, 60 miles north of New York City. Or you could go to a crane yard near a heating-oil terminal in Port Morris, an industrial section of the South Bronx.

There, amid belching smokestacks and clanging delivery trucks, sits artwork made by Mr. Serra, a secret grace note in a decidedly ungraceful block. The briny air from the river just steps away blows across the steel plates, bent in a trademark Serra arc that would be recognized on the moon — which, in the art world, Port Morris might as well be.

This is just too perfect. Most of Serra's sculptures look like a part of the hull of a rusty old oil tanker, and they would actually look far more at home in a shipyard than at the Guggenheim. It certainly doesn't look at all out of place in this heating oil terminal. The article describes his work as a "secret grace note." It's probably a very well kept secret -- exactly zero people who drive by the yard probably recognize it as art.

In the picture above, the heavy duty construction truck actually looks more like art than Serra's sculpture; at least there's a certain beauty to its functionality, whereas the "sculpture" is perfectly useless. (Doesn't "sculpture" imply that some sculpting has gone on?) Serra's work looks like a misplaced factory smokestack, or perhaps one of those containers where they store the salt they put on snowy roads. It's probably the ugliest thing in that terminal yard.

But Sam Dolnick, the author of the Times article, doesn't feel that way. In a later paragraph he says: 


Whether art or art-to-be, it is striking just the same. Seen from the lot next door, it is a rusty mirage, an amber curve that overshadows a nearby crane truck and stands next to a corrugated tin shed of similar size if not sensuality. When the sun hits the delicate outer slope, it shimmers. In place of the usual curatorial card that might provide some insight as to the material or inspiration behind the work, there is a sign saying, “No Trespassing, No Dumping.” 

No dumping? Oops, too late.

I've been told that a large percentage of Times reporters are gay. I'm a supporter of gay rights -- as I've stated many times in this blog -- but the above paragraph sets my gaydar clanging like a fleet of fire engines on their way to a five alarm. So I'm mystified by Dolnick's reference to the color of the ship's hull as "amber." Gays are generally good with colors. And whatever hue that rusty old monstrosity is, it's not amber, which is the color of honey. 

Dolnick is not the only one who appreciates the emperor's new outfit. Here he quotes another fan: 


Told of the unlikely exhibition, Eric Stark, curator of the New School Art Collection, made the pilgrimage one recent morning to see for himself. “Wow,” he said, walking up to the fence. “If you’ve seen enough of these ellipses, it just screams out that this is a Richard Serra.”

Nearby, a shopping cart lay in the shrubs. Used condoms and decomposing cardboard littered the ground. “I find the whole thing incredibly poetic,” Mr. Stark said.

True enough: if a Serra sculpture is art, then used condoms are poetry. 

I find the whole thing incredibly perfect. (Not the "art," the irony.)

IQ test: Which face doesn't belong with the others?

A: Rahm Emanuel's, simply because he's far more demonic-looking than the other three (Ted Bundy, John Gacy, and Jeffrey Dahmer).

Narcissists in action

I know a guy who likes to talk about himself. When you see him, he'll tell you what he's been up to, how his workouts are going, and what his plans are. If you start to talk about yourself, he'll mumble "I gotta go now," and leave.

If I were the only one who'd noted this pattern, I might assume it was due to me being so boring. But I've heard others say they've noticed the same thing. He's a pleasant guy, I've never seen him get nasty, and he can be generous. But he only wants to talk about himself.

When my children were on the local swim team, I would often chat with the other parents. The majority of the parents were polite, and would ask how my children were swimming. But there was a subset of parents, a small but unmistakable minority, who would come rushing up to me, tell me what amazing time their child had just done, wait for my approval (which I would usually give), and then go flouncing off. Again, these were not nasty people; but their subject of conversation rarely varied.

Occasionally their children would actually have done a noteworthy time. But it was always the same parents who would talk only about their children, while never asking about anyone else's. And the polite parents would never fail to ask about other people's children. Eventually, both sets of behaviors became very predictable.

My only regret was that I gave the first set of parents my approval.

How much time a person spends speaking about himself, vs. how much time he is willing to spend talking about you (or at least a neutral subject), is a very direct measure of his narcissism.

Or at least of his stupidity and self-indulgence.

Think of everyone you know in those terms. It's a worthwhile exercise.

Superficiality vs. good taste

We're constantly told as we're growing up that we're not supposed to judge others by their appearance -- although everyone does it. But it's my impression that those most aware of the effect that beauty has on them are those best able to separate people's personalities from their looks. Those who never pause to consider someone's features are more apt to conflate appearance with personality. Is that preferable?

The same crowd which claims moral superiority for not judging others by their appearance often judges others on equally superficial standards -- which they deem "good taste." For instance, do people wear nice tweed jackets with leather elbow patches, which denote praiseworthy values? Or do they dress in tailored suits with structured shoulders, which indicate venality?

Let's ponder this distinction for a moment. People arent responsible for their own bone structure. Yet they are responsible for their dress. So aren't those who make an effort to dress in a way that will meet with approval more vain than those who are merely good-looking? Therefore, aren't those who applaud the former but not the latter merely approving vanity?

Many of the those who pride themselves on their non-superficiality will judge others by their accent. To such culturati, a Boston or Long Island accent automatically lowers a person in their estimation. A southern accent connotes a backwoods savage who is just looking for the nearest black person to lynch. A black accent sets off all sorts of warning bells, the loudest of which signals the need to pretend those other bells didn't go off. And a plummy British accent is ideal -- so much so that they sometimes find their own speech giving off a faint echo of one. People with good taste rarely admit to such reactions. But that doesn't make those reactions any the less real. Or superficial.

(I'm not claiming immunity from those feelings myself.)

This same crowd judges others by the decor of their house. Do they have "nice" things, meaning, expensive, preferably old things? Are their electronic gadgets well hidden? Why is one set of possessions preferable to the other? Because the arbiters of good taste say so.

People with good values judge others by their cars. Any car which costs over $50,000, no matter how safe a car it is, is in bad taste. But any car known primarily for its safety, like a Saab or Volvo, shows good taste. An ostentatiously green car, like a Prius or SmartCar, is prime approval material. On the other hand, a Civic, which gets nearly as good mileage as a Prius, is too downmarket to really score points.

Arbiters of good taste judge others by their reading material. As a rule of thumb, the dryer your book, the better. People with good taste look down on tabloids, or at best, regard them as guilty pleasures. The guilt derives from the fact that they're actually fun to read. A properly brainwashed person says that tabloids "appeal to the worst in human nature." But reading the National Enquirer is an exercise in schadenfreude that only those who are least in touch with their own feelings don't enjoy.

We all instinctively look at the aftermath of an accident as we pass it on the highway. The difference is, people with good taste deny that they have those instincts.

We're taught that we should be more high-minded -- and interested in things like politics. But government policy, of course, is mostly about the distribution, or rather redistribution, and reallocation of money. But we're also taught that we should never talk about money, which is in bad taste. Unless, of course, we're condemning others for being overly interested in it.

Well-bred people don't use swear words. These are considered the province of louts. Far better for the culturati to demonstrate their snippiness, foul temper, snobbiness, and selfishness without using those eight or nine nine forbidden words. Proper narcissists can demonstrate their low character very articulately without using bad words.

Fuck 'em.

The title of this blog is "justnotsaid" -- as in, certain things just aren't said in polite company. I don't mind saying them because I'm not polite, and I lack good taste.

Having grown up among those who worship at its altar, I find the concept utterly lacking in appeal.

A political war

An AP article about Bob Woodward's new book, Obama's Wars:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100922/ap_on_go_pr_wh/us_woodward_book

Woodward has, over time, developed into perhaps the most credible witness the Washington scene has. He's one of the few professional commentators who is not a spin artist, and he seems to have gotten reliable inside access to every administration of the past three decades.

The fact that his new book reveals infighting in the White House is no great shock; this happens in all administrations (though there seems to be even more dissension in the current one). The surprise is the way in which the nakedly political motivations behind the Afghanistan War are revealed.

One paragraph from the AP article:

While Obama ultimately rejected the alternative plan [which would not escalate the war in Afghanistan, and which Obama had pushed for], the book says, he set a withdrawal timetable because, "I can't lose the whole Democratic Party."

Obama did say during his campaign that he would "hunt down" Osama bin Laden as a way to implicitly criticize the Bush administration for not having done so -- so he can't appear to be giving up on this goal. Nor does he want to look like the guy who "lost" the war on terror. So we keep fighting a war we can't possibly win (as several of his advisers admit). But at the same time, Obama doesn't want to lose his left-wing base, so he promises to withdraw starting in August of 2011 -- all but assuring the Taliban that they need only be patient to win the war.

In the meantime, American boys are fighting and dying over there, all so Obama can pose as a man determined to defeat al Qaeda -- but not as a warmonger.