ACORN Packs It Up

This isn't breaking news anymore, but I'm still bitin':

Community activist group ACORN is disbanding, blaming failure on partisan attacks from the right. This ignores, of course, an obvious explanation, regarding getting caught on camera giving tax advice to pimps and prostitutes. Still, where are our priorities? And how prude have we become? Members of the oldest profession can now expect greater difficulty getting quality tax tips. Nice job, catchers-of-ACORN-giving-tax-tips-to-pimps-and-prostitutes. I hope your high-minded caught on camera antics were worth it.

Health Care's Many Voices

Katrina vanden Heuvel writing for the Washington Post assures us that the Health Care bill--now law--is a good start, but does not go nearly far enough on the road to government-managed medicine. Holman W. Jenkins writing for the Wall Street Journal (WSJ) explains why insurance companies--supposedly the "evil" players in health care--are quite happy about ObamaCare (hint: if everyone has to have coverage, there are lots more people to stick with skyrocketing costs).

David Brooks writing for the New York Times (NYT) observes, convincingly, that we're not really wrestling (yet) with the enormous costs we're incurring as a country, health care the latest charge on the card:

"This country is in the position of a free-spending family careening toward bankruptcy that at the last moment announced that it was giving a gigantic new gift to charity. You admire the act of generosity, but you wish they had sold a few of the Mercedes to pay for it."

One of my favorites, moderate Tom Friedman, also writing in NYT brushes aside the partisan "yes we did" (Democrats) and the "OMG, they did?" (Republicans) on the health care debate in favor of an interesting discussion about fixing government, making it work better for all of us. As he puts it, we need a "tea party" for the middle of the country.

And my opinion? Oh, who knows? It's too early to tell. Punt.

Those Polarizing Bloggers

Law professor Cass R. Sunstein argues in Infotopia that blogs tend to create group polarization, where political views become more radical (so, if you're conservative and read conservative blogs, you become more so, and so too with liberal views and liberal blogs). Of course everyone wants to pretend that their view is just "the reasonable one", but the truth is that having a point of view will tend to put you somewhere on the political spectrum. Case in point: if you believe abortion should be legal--if you support the Roe ruling, for instance--you're almost ipso facto socially liberal, as few if any social conservatives are pro choice. On the other hand, what makes people so interesting is that many of us have strange amalgums of liberal and conservative views. One might, for instance, be pro choice and "pro military", in the sense that one doesn't support spending reductions in the military, supports the war in Afghanistan (I guess the war in Iraq was "won", by the standard that the media doesn't talk about it anymore, leaving it to historians), tough foreign policy on Iran, and so on.

Anyway, following Sunstein, we would do well to read a range of blogs to avoid polarization (which he argues is bad, as one might have guessed, since it tends to reduce the amount of available information in groups, which means there's less chance of making an informed decision).

Happy Birthday, Stamp Act

Today is the 245th anniversary of the Stamp Act, apparently. Which reminds me, I've been meaning to comment on how, well, American it is to hate taxes. I'm sure most people "hate taxes" to the extent that folks don't much like money going out, rather than coming in. But Americans have a rich history of really hatin' on taxes, from the colonial era onward. George Washington himself wasn't having the ole' "pay your taxes" spiel by Mother England, and of course the Stamp Act gave rise to a mob. After ratification of the Constitution, Hamilton tried an excise tax on frontiersman, taxing mainly their whiskey, which was used almost as currency at the time. This resulted in armed rebellion, squelched only by the amassing of some twelve thousand soldiers in response. In short, Britain found from the get go, sustained and determined resistance to the paying of taxes. Now, we can debate about whether Americans should rethink this kneejerk resistance to paying Uncle Sam, but it's no argument that it's as American as Apple Pie.

Like, Whatever

This certainly qualifies as petty itself, but I'm in "gonzo blogger" mode right now, typing away at my suddenly indispensible 12" Netbook (it sat unused for several months while I shunned it in favor of a laptop) in the caffeine-frenzy of Saturday night at the Barnes and Noble. Free Wi-Fi! The petty part is this. A couple of young, high school aged girls have plopped down next to me, and within seconds they have launched into this string of "ya knows" and "I'm likes", and "and then he was like", and the obligatory "whaateverrr" (with that strange California surfer tone that somehow is emitted by all young people, no matter where they grew up. I'm convinced that there are sixteen year old girls in Iran right now munching on Persian bran muffins in bookstores and coffee shops, like-whatevering-it in the exact same prosodic rhythms as their sisters in the Barnes and Nobles and Starbucks of America's towns and cities).

So I'm finished. Forget plowing through another chapter of "Proust was a Neuroscientist" for now. There's really no where else to sit, and its impossible to read with the jackhammer of dunderheaded comments rattling away beside me. Anyway, in gonzo mode it's fun to people-listen, I tell myself. Let's listen! And what do you know, before long my initial despair has transmogrified into this kind of purient curiosity: how vapid can they get? Can Jamie actually manage something so trivial and stupid, that Bergen--who is herself dedicated to the trivial and stupid--actually becomes self-conscious? Is it possible for the weight of the triviality to collapse on them both? Or can they really keep what-evering it, indefinitely, cheerfully oblivious that they are in fact the unwitting subjects of the middle aged gonzo blogger next to them? How will our story end?

I'm on the case now. Surreptitiously absorbing the latest tale of "and-then-he-said, and-I-was-like, and-so-he-goes, but-I'm-like". There's a kind of internal logic to it, really, because exactly why did Heath text Bergen in class, telling her that he made out with what's-her-name? No kidding she was like "no", I'm now thinking, because I'm suspecting--as they are, I take it--that Heath's like, you know, he's like, a jerk.

So, I'm in it to win it, now. I hit upon the idea of transitioning from mere passive observation to posing a question to them. What will they do? Will they smile? Or laugh? Or look at me in horror? I figure I'll turn to them, and, in the best older-professional, respectable face I can muster, hit them with something like: "Hi, excuse me, but I'm writing a book on the decline of intellectual conversation among America's youth, and I was wondering if you could just continue in the vein that you've begun, and if you don't mind I'd like to write about some of your conversation. The chapter that's relevant is called "The Intolerable Vapidity of Carmen and Laney", a kind of catchy title (I hope) about how highschool kids drone on and on about the pettiest, most trivial desiderata...".

(But, alas, I can't muster it. And it's just as well, I think, because as quickly as they erased any possibility of reading and thinking, they've wrapped up about Heath, met up with two more friends, and are up and on to somewhere else. This leaves me in a comic state of affairs, contemplating the near total disappearance of my initial bemused aggravation twenty minutes ago, left now with a slight disappointment in their departure. Me, abandoned to my reading on Proust and neuroscience, which now seems more effort than fun.)

So our story nears its end. It suffices to close with a few admittedly cursory thoughts on "kids today". Kids today, they seem so adroit at juxtaposing this manifest silliness with busy-body success, achievement. They're like, studying all the time, and, like, aceing their SATs, too. It's entirely possible that the Trivial Two who sat next to me will go on to study law or medicine or English at a respectable college, and end up a few years from now in graduate school, and land white collar, well-paying jobs, and on and on the American dream goes. Kids can, like, talk like this, for, like, a long time, and still end up getting taken seriously later. Onward and upward, for most of them. The "Achievatron", as David Brooks calls it, just keeps going and going. Many of these kids, seemingly so vapid, are in fact wired for success. (It's notable that they were, like, at a bookstore on a Saturday night, after all.) The Achievatron is much more difficult to stop then anything Heath can muster, and Heath himself may end up Harvard law. Smart money is: that paper will get written before class on Monday. And as far as Heath goes, you go girl. Like, whateverrr about him.

Joe versus The Liberal

Put this in the "off the cuff observation" bucket:

Like many of us, I discuss politics fairly frequently with friends and colleagues, many of whom are left-leaning or liberal (they are pro-choice, for universal health care, worried about global warming, sceptical about corporate America, and so on).

Over the years I've noticed a pattern of subtle (sometimes not so subtle) snickering with regard to "Tea Party" types, or what we used to call the "Nascar crowd". I'll admit to enjoying a little snickering about "them" myself. Why? Because--so the stereotype goes--they're the types that forward stupid chain emails about how Obama's not a U.S. Citizen, who have goofy bumper stickers about the inferiority of Ford on the back of their Chevy pickup, who work the blue collar jobs and get WAY too excited about football games, beer drinking, and BBQ. They think Palin would be a good President. They're all about patriotism (defined mostly as America the Strong Military, the "Ass Kickin'" America), plain speaking folks, SUVs, baseball games on the weekends for the kids, and country music. They distrust egghead intellectuals ("He can talk, but can he change a tire?"), government bureaucrats who want to raise their taxes, and, above all, anything that smacks of what "liberals" might say or do.

So, The Liberal tends to snicker at these types (which makes a certain sense, since these types don't like him much, and The Liberal knows it). But what is the meaning of the snicker? The snickering--and scoffing, harumphing, and guffawing--is damn peculiar, actually, because if we remove the political differences, many of the Tea Party/Nascar folks are not rich, well-to-do types who might feel targeted by liberal social or economic policy changes. They're Joe the Plumber types, making a modest income, having less than the best health care, and less than the best opportunities for higher education, and on and on. Many of them would stand to gain, in fact, from the very policies that The Liberal espouses: less taxes on working folks, more on rich folk. Health care for little Johnny. Tax credits for education, and so on. Somehow, though, Average Joe American doesn't seem to want any of it, and he receives a snicker from The Liberal as his reward.

So, the situation is peculiar, on its face, because Average Joe American seems to despise policy that, ostensibly at least, would seem beneficial to him, and The Liberal is caught snickering at the very common folk type about which he professes such concern. The Liberal in fact talks incessantly about Americans who are not rich, and who don't have all of the opportunities that well-to-do Americans have. The Liberal seems worried half to death that CEOs are getting all the attention, not the common worker. But who is Average Joe American, the object of his snickering? He's a plumber, or a truck driver, or he works down the road at the Walmart. He's not a CEO. He doesn't know squat about Wall Street. He owns a pickup truck with 150 thousand miles on it. He has no 401K, lives in a modest four bedroom house, and has two kids in the public school system because he and his wife, a manager at Target, couldn't even begin to afford private school. So, why does The Liberal snicker (and why doesn't Joe like The Liberal)? It's damn peculiar.

One explanation we can reject is: The Liberal snickers because Average Joe American is conservative (he's pro-life, for low taxes, hawkish on defense, thinks global warming is "fishy", and so on). We can reject this idea, because The Liberal does not snicker at educated conservatives; he just disagrees with them. He might even get mad and flustered at them. But he doesn't snicker.

And so the plot thickens. If it's not the substance of the ideas, the difference in the ideas between The Liberal and Average Joe, what is it? A possible--if painful--explanation is that The Liberal snickers because, deep down, he doesn't think Average Joe American is in his league. He's not as educated, he's probably not as smart, and he shouldn't be in charge of anything--except perhaps the weekend little league tournament. This is, of course, a very strange posture for The Liberal, because it's flatly in tension with the self-absorbed, perpetual concern he has for those-who-have-less. It's the plight of the working stiff that infuses The Liberal with her energy, her sense of moral indignation. The Liberal is "all about" those that are less fortunate, whether in monetary or educational or other terms. "She didn't have an opportunity to go to college", "He can't afford health care for his children", "Why doesn't the CEO give his bonus to his share holders?", and on and on. The Liberal is talking about Average (or below average) Joe American on the one hand all the time, while snickering at him on the other.

So, to return, what is the meaning of the snicker? As I've explained, it can't be that Average Joe American has conservative views. Many people have conservative views, and those with liberal views are happy to engage them in endless intellectual debates, with nary a snicker, or guffaw, or scoff. It must be something about Joe. But what is it? Joe's a guy: are men to be snickered at? Not really (The Liberal might be a "guy", too). Joe's white: are white people properly snickerable? Well, no, it's more complicated, we hear. He's not so rich: So? He's one of the have-nots, a "damn shame", in a country with such wealth. So that's not it. But wait, Joe didn't go to college! Ha! That must be it! He's uneducated! Snicker away! But not so fast again. We don't ridicule people for their lack of education; we expand access. We make college more affordable. We educate people about its benefits, and so on.

And on and on. We're still nowhere explaining the snicker. What could it mean? I don't know, really. But I'll be mischievous and offer up the maarvelously scaaandalous possibility I suggested earlier. Suppose that The Liberal--so publically concerned about those with less education, and less money, and less opportunity--really thinks, deep down, privately, that those kinds of folks suck? In this case, is the meaning of the snicker: don't you realize, you idiot, that you're an uneducated working class stiff? Why don't you shut up, and let us help you and your kind? (They are, you know, so fragile, but so noble, in their plight. Didn't you read Rousseau? Oh no, of course you didn't.) This view, so cynical of course, would have the virtue of "making sense of the data", as some scientifically-minded chap might say, receiving no doubt a suspicious look from our Joe (who would never call anyone a "chap"). Mmmm, dataaa, muses Joe, moments later. Ha!

Speak Up, Prius

Does the damn Prius have a sticky gas pedal, or not? And, if not, how lame is it to pick on the feel-good Prius? People are driving around, thinking in self-interested terms about how much money they're saving at the pump, and in global terms about making the world a better place with smart technology, and some jerk in San Diego falsely claims that his Prius stormed off at 94 mph (this seems like good PR, actually: the Prius can do 94 mph?), conjuring images of a horrific crash, blood smeared across the once-sexy "Hybrid" decal, its battery hurled into the street, maiming pedestrians caught unawares, jarred out of their pleasant stroll by the smell of burning tires, fire, and death. Death! Death by Prius!

Okay, maybe a bit too far. But, again, does the Prius have a sticky gas pedal, or what? Those hapless execs at Toyota must be close to seppuku.