Thanksgiving thoughts
Let’s look at the rest of the world briefly, which is all it requires: China? Communists. The Middle East? We’re getting off oil sooner rather than later, and there will come a day when a Saudi prince, without his precious oil allowance, suddenly has to work a real job, and it will be a disaster. Europe? A lovely museum to a special culture that decided it was done, stopped procreating and stopped inventing, and now has to be liquidated for sensitivity purposes (I’m hearing that the English language is Islamophobic colonialism). That leaves us with America. The US of A. Land of the free. Land of invention. Bastion of the world’s brightest minds and hardest workers. Despite the nuts wandering around—and yes, there are many—we’re still the best party on earth. I’m so thankful to have had the profound luck of being born here. I’m grateful for America.
My standard line when somebody tries to bait me into a political debate is, “I’m a professional; I only do this when I’m getting paid.”
Williamson goes on to get a lot deeper than “how I avoid politics at the Thanksgiving table” — a perennial topic that’s losing its fragrance. Here’s some of that deeper:
Thanksgiving is, among other things, a reminder of the pleasures of private life, which are almost always superior to their public and commercial competitors. Dinner at home with family and friends is better than dinner at the best restaurant in New York City or London. Sleeping in your own bed is better than a suite at the Ritz-Carlton …
Especially at this time of year, a fire and a book and children and a dog in one’s own home are nonpareil pleasures. I am not saying everybody should move into a cabin in the woods: There is a reason the very wealthy use their money to expand the scope of their private lives: private jets, private clubs, or, if you’ve really got piles of it, private islands. But the point isn’t to have a gold-plated toilet on your personal 747—the point is to have things just the way you like them.
I read a bizarre story a few months ago about private-jet owners who make a little money back on their travel by renting their planes out between flights—for substantial amounts of money—to would-be social-media influencers who simply want to be photographed inside them, pretending to be flying. … I do not get the demand side of that market.
The guy who posts Instagram pictures of himself on a private jet doesn’t know what a private jet is for, because he doesn’t know what private life is for—what he wants is to be envied. Fake wealth isn’t going to solve his problem–but neither is real wealth. His orientation is fundamentally exterior and public, dominated by the desire to be seen and by the need to see himself through the eyes of others, as though he would cease to exist if he ceased being looked at. As David Foster Wallace pointed out in a memorable passage in Infinite Jest, the ache that envy makes us feel turns out not to have a reciprocal: There isn’t actually any pleasure or joy in being envied. The man who spends his time and energy manufacturing advertisements for his own (supposed) happiness is not made larger by the attention of others but instead is made smaller by his desperate scrambling after it.
There is a difference between living one’s life and performing it. Performing life for some unseen audience on social media is perverse. Every time I hear someone use the term “personal brand,” I cringe a little. That is the worst kind of faux-sophistication, and it speaks to a real deficiency in the interior life.
Nowhere in particular
This one’s evergreen. I’ve almost certainly blogged it before:
I can take a virtual tour of the Forbidden City in Beijing, or of the deepest underwater caverns, nearly as easily as I glance across the room. Every foreign wonder, hidden place, and obscure subculture is immediately available to my idle curiosity; they are lumped together into a uniform distancelessness that revolves around me. But where am I? There doesn’t seem to be any nonarbitrary basis on which I can draw a horizon around myself—a zone of relevance—by which I might take my bearings and get oriented. When the axis of closer-to-me and farther-from-me is collapsed, I can be anywhere, and find that I am rarely in any place in particular.” (Matthew B. Crawford, The World Beyond Your Head)”I can take a virtual tour of the Forbidden City in Beijing, or of the deepest underwater caverns, nearly as easily as I glance across the room. Every foreign wonder, hidden place, and obscure subculture is immediately available to my idle curiosity; they are lumped together into a uniform distancelessness that revolves around me. But where am I? There doesn’t seem to be any nonarbitrary basis on which I can draw a horizon around myself—a zone of relevance—by which I might take my bearings and get oriented. When the axis of closer-to-me and farther-from-me is collapsed, I can be anywhere, and find that I am rarely in any place in particular.
Matthew B. Crawford, The World Beyond Your Head (emphasis added).
Postliberalism
Today’s post-liberal conservatives appear to think they’re distinguished by the belief that virtue matters. They behave as if their core disagreement with fusionists is about whether human beings have moral obligations that go beyond leaving others alone to do as they please. This could hardly be more wrong. Anyone who holds to the Judeo-Christian tradition—as fusionists by definition do—accepts that we have manifold duties to one another. The disagreement is about whether it’s the state’s job to enforce those moral obligations.
(Stephanie Slade, Is There a Future for Fusionism?
Lacunae
Reading Marilynne Robinson, Gilead. 📚
I reached my 75th birthday recently, having never read one of her novels. I’m thinking that was a terrible mistake.
I’ll probably try Annie Dillard next, despite learning to my shock that Pilgrim at Tinker Creek isn’t a novel. I’ve got something in me that responds to certain kinds of women writers.
Political-ish
Hard-core pornography and far-right politics
Years and years ago, preachers inveighed against “hard-core pornography.” (Today, few if any do because they don’t want to drive away all the young men.) I knew then that there was some big-time hyperbole going on when Playboy fell in the “hard-core” category. It contributed to my growing sense that a lot of preachers really didn’t have anything edifying to say.
Today, mainstream media similarly fling around “far right.” I know they’re engaging in hyperbole some of the time they do that (e.g., Viktor Orban — there, I’ve outed myself!), and in so doing they debase themselves and make the discerning reader skeptical of all they say. (They also prove that conservatives don’t own all the echo chambers.)
All that to ask: Is Geert Wilders really far-right, or does he just offend progressive media biases? Is he within or outside the Overton Window? Is “far right” generally within or without? I do not know, but I know not to trust the Economist’s take.
Book-banning
Wait, who banned those books? A lot of celebrities and politicians like doing activism to fight against “book banning,” but they often accidentally point to books that were banned by their own team. This week: pop star Pink. She claims that Florida banned To Kill a Mockingbird. . . but. . . actually, To Kill a Mockingbird is required reading in Florida schools. It was recently banned—by a district in Washington State. Those teachers in Washington State said this: “ ‘To Kill a Mockingbird centers on whiteness,’ ” and “ ‘it presents a barrier to understanding and celebrating an authentic Black point of view in Civil Rights era literature and should be removed.’ ”
A good rule of thumb for Pink and other celebrities: anything written about race by a white person? That’s going to be banned in the states you live in. Anything written about sex by a person who enjoyed sex a little too much or has brightly dyed hair? That’s gonna be banned in your red states. Easy peasy.
Undue process, due unprocess, whatever.
I suppose that when Ayaan Hirsi Ali sought asylum from Sudan, she had even worse than this in mind: Washington Court Refuses to Enforce Saudi Child Custody Decree.
We do well to remember the benefits even of post-Christendom (at least until the fumes from the empty bottle dissipate and we descend further).
In other words, he won’t run … right?
Retiring Sen. Joe Manchin of West Virginia said Wednesday that he is “absolutely” considering running for president in 2024 and will travel the country in the coming months to see if there is a desire for a moderate option in the presidential contest. “I’m totally, absolutely scared to death that Donald Trump would become president again,” Manchin told NBC News. Manchin also addressed concerns that he could siphon votes away from President Joe Biden. “I’ve never been a spoiler in my life of anything,” he said, “and I would never be a spoiler now.”
Hard to believe he wouldn’t be a spoiler.
The human voice: That we can sing seems basis for conjecture that, despite our stupidities and our sinfulness, we might be the reason the universe exists.
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Tipsy Teetotaler ن 