The Taxonomy of the Chick Flick

My lovely wife of almost 28 years, Debbie, likes a good chick flick once in a while, so it is inevitable that I am irritated once in a while. I guess she thinks there's more to life than gangster movies and Steelers highlights.

But the term "chick flick" is seldom qualified or quantified for us. Can the rules of chick-flickdom be codified? What follows here is my best attempt; I'm sure a more perceptive film critic could do a better job, and please feel welcome to add your own codicils in the "Comments".

1. Chick flicks feature actresses who are not too beautiful. I call it the "Meg Ryan" rule: any actress more beautiful than Meg Ryan can't make a living in chick flicks. Needless to say, Catherine Zeta-Jones would go broke if she had to act in chick flicks. Hit the bricks, Nicole Kidman, that porcelain skin and those long shapely legs won't do you any good here. Go make some more vampire movies, Kate Beckinsale. Cute is good. Pretty is okay. Beauty is not. Sandra Bullock, not Charlize Theron. Kyra Sedgwick, not Scarlett Johansson. And for you old-timers, Audrey Hepburn, not Sophia Loren. Chick-flick heroines must be "girl-pretty", a term coined by a buddy of mine. A woman is "girl-pretty" if girls think guys ought to find her attractive, but don't. It's easy to determine which girls are girl-pretty. If a woman were to catch her husband checking out pictures of Reese Witherspoon online, which is highly unlikely, she would compliment him for having good taste. However, if instead she were to catch him sneaking peeks at Jayne Mansfield's considerable decolletage, he'd get a lecture on the destructive effects of Internet porn. Reese Witherspoon is girl-pretty; Jayne Mansfield would have starved before landing any part in a Nora Ephron screenplay aside from evil villainess/bimbo. And the director would make certain to cover her chest.

2. Chick-flick heroines have usually been done wrong by a man. Divorced. Abandoned. Husband. Lover. Lecherous boss. Drooling teacher or professor. Mistreated. Or worse, underestimated. In "Legally Blonde", all bases are sufficiently covered by having an ex-lover *and* a professor/boss mistreat *and* underestimate the virtuous heroine.

3. Chick-flick heroines attract losers, but are not attracted by losers. However, sometimes the loser successfully conceals his losing qualities until the denouement. The scene where she tells off the loser is usually the second most important scene in the movie.

4. The chick-flick heroine is the smartest person onscreen and can usually see everything more clearly than any other character, except her own love life. Until she figures it all out. Figuring it out is nine-tenths of the plot.

5. Often the intelligence comes across as withering sarcasm, and only the virtuous male romantic lead is able to withstand it all stoically and with good cheer -- up until the scene where, against all odds, or reason, or good sense, he confesses he's fallen head over heels for the castrating termagant. Some chick-flick film makers like to propagate the myth that the bitchier the woman, the more virtuous and desirable the man she ultimately captivates. "You've Got Mail" and "Kate and Leopold" are chick flicks cast in this particular mold. A man would have to be out of his mind to be attracted to the protagonist feminist-castrator characters portrayed in these movies (played to perfection by Meg Ryan in her post-cute phase), but this sub-genre of chick flicks attempts to sustain faith in the existence of the hypothetical man who finds bitchiness irresistibly sexy. And why not? Somebody has to keep hope alive for the millions of women in Georgetown and San Francisco who imagine that they're just one apoplectic snit away from finding Mr. Right.

6. She's a brave woman facing the challenges of life on her own terms, and overcoming them on her own terms. She's almost always a professional of some sort -- usually a journalist or publisher or editor, or some other brainy profession that isn't too wonkish or geeky. If she is a techie geek, however, of course she's better at it than all her beta- and gamma-male geek eunuch buddies, who unanimously acknowledge her as "the best", even though it's effortless for her, whereas they've sacrificed everything -- social skills, relationships, a life -- to get where they've gotten.

7. The trappings of royalty never hurt. "The Princess Diaries" movies have proven that. Talk about effortless virtue.

8. It's great if the chick-flick heroine ends up marrying the rich guy (even better if he's royalty, too, but rich is usually good enough) -- but it's for love, of course. Everyone knows rich guys (and princes) are, in our egalitarian world, no more desirable than a sanitation worker -- but why take any chances? And be he a prince or rich businessman or idealistic lawyer, it's only after he acknowledges how puny he is compared to her, and how empty his life would be without her, that he wins the fair but choosy maiden. That's the first most important scene in a chick flick.

In my opinion, and for what it's worth, the best chick flick ever made was "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" -- but it broke most of the rules listed above. Except for rule 1.

Merry Christmas 2010

As the song goes, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful, but the fire is so delightful.” Well, no fire here, but the heat pump in the backyard is wheezing like a cheap blender grinding out its last margarita. Today, we enjoyed one of those Arctic-style Yankee storms that breezes through Virginia Beach infrequently when Chicago and Minneapolis are through with them. They can have this one back. Schools were closed today and we stayed home -- which is good, since the scariest thing in the world is a Virginia Beach driver in a 4x4. Around these parts, they think NASCAR is a Driver’s Ed documentary, and sliding sideways is no big deal if it means beating Junior to the Wal-Mart. Much better to stay home and watch “White Christmas” for the thousandth time on AMC Channel. But there’s something about watching Danny Kaye cavort around on a sound stage with Vera-Ellen that makes me think of Richard Simmons with a good haircut.

In March, I attended the Eastern Trombone Workshop at Fort Myer (Arlington, VA) again for, what, the fourth time? My buddy Ray Crenshaw from South Carolina and I are making a regular spring ritual out of going up to hear the old pros and the young students perform. Trombone-playing as an art form may be dying, but ironically the players just keep getting better and better. But this year, the trombone intermezzo was interrupted with a little side trip to attend a Tea Party protest at the U.S. Capitol, on the day before ObamaCare was passed. From all over the country, thousands and thousands showed up, finally tired of paying the piper and seeking to exercise their prerogative to call the tune. Cousin Jim Dise and I rode the Metro into downtown D.C., where I got to yell at Congressman Dennis Kucinich. It was a gorgeous day for a protest and the whole experience really spoke to my inner hippie. Problem is, at some point during the past forty years we quit smoking dope and started electing them.

Then, in June, Ray and I took the time for another trip, this one out to Elkhorn, Wisconsin on a quest for a new trombone slide. We got lost for a while in Kentucky and discovered mile after mile of beautiful horse farms, and not a glue factory in sight. We spent a day in Batesville, Indiana with my friends Kurt and Patty Rauscher and their son Danny, a budding sax player who plays in a National Guard band. Elkhorn is just a few hours’ drive from Indiana, and much of that time was spent admiring the Chicago highway system at speeds of up to 5 mph. Lake Geneva, Wisconsin, is an odd little resort town (like driving down I-80 and taking the Bahamas exit) where we ate dinner at a little beer joint along the shore. But having lived in the Midwest, I knew to avoid the seafood, and to be particularly wary of anything with the word “oyster” in the name (Midwesterners have very strange ideas about where oysters come from). The next day we went to the Edwards Trombone factory, where we met Christan, who helped me select the best slide to match my playing, er, “style”, I guess is the word that applies here. Christan is well-known in the trombone community and his advice is sought by great players from all over the world all the time. Well, this wasn’t one of those times, but still he was very helpful. Once we found the right slide, it was obvious. Even Ray observed, “Wow! That almost sounds musical!”

Debbie and I had been planning to take a vacation trip to Philadelphia in August, but she was seduced by the cruise prices and called an audible. So we took a cruise through the eastern Caribbean with some friends -- Ray (you’ve met him) and his wife Sonja, and Kevin and Ann Schmalz from Binghamton, NY. The four of them are all French horn players, so every time the ship’s horn blasted, they went running to put their right hand in it. Just kidding. We departed from Baltimore, a four-hour drive from Virginia Beach, only to pass right by Virginia Beach on our way out to the ocean. Cruise ships don’t do bus stops. Debbie and I had taken pretty much the same cruise back in 1996, and I remember having dismissed Puerto Rico as the “Cleveland of the Caribbean.” This time, it made a much better impression on me –it seemed very festive and exciting. Especially so, since the wives couldn’t wait to ditch us once we got ashore – in order, armed with .45 caliber credit cards, to terrorize the local merchants. While I was almost frantic with worry, they were blithely shaking down the jewelry stores. “Stand back or the Fruitz watch gets it!” Kevin showed us something I had never seen before – at noon, we cast almost no shadow at all, as the sun was almost directly overhead, a phenomenon of summer in the tropics. (Kevin and Ann had played in the Caracas Symphony Orchestra, so they had seen this before.) St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, is actually more shopper-friendly than Puerto Rico -- particularly for the gentlemen, as this gentleman prefers Scotch. Against my better judgment, Ray and Kevin talked me into taking a lift up the side of a mountain, and as we dangled hundreds of feet above rocky terrain, anxious thoughts of Third World mechanical prowess filled my head. Steel cable had never looked so fragile. And for what had I risked my life? At the top of the mountain were a bunch of touristy gift shops. Shangri-La with cash registers. One of the shops had exotic birds, the idea being to pose for a picture with one of them. One large white cockatoo only had eyes for Ray, and kept snapping at his owner when she tried to pull the smitten parrot off of his arm. In the Dominican Republic, some of us (Kevin, Sonja, and Debbie) visited limestone caves featuring pre-Columbian art on the walls and post-Columbian bat droppings on the floor, while others of us (well, me) explored the caves on the ship, particularly the ones with cold beer on tap. Ray struck up a friendship with some local musicians in Haiti, and jammed with them at the ship’s beach party. Ukuleles, bongos, and French horn united, performing Caribbean pop music with a unique undercurrent of Richard Strauss. Or perhaps Sgt. Pepper. On the last day, we said hello/goodbye again to Virginia Beach as we passed by en route to our final disembarkation in Baltimore, separated from home by fifteen miles and another day of traveling.

It has been another year of working for Virginia Beach Schools for both of us -- Debbie in the classroom with her violin bow and conductor’s baton, me slaving over a hot keyboard writing the computer code that helps keep the information flowing. We each have a second career, namely, to serve the needs of the furry aristocracy. We’re talking about lives totally devoted, like some perverse monkish sect, to serving vows of gluttony and sloth. Buster is a twenty-two-pounder who makes cans of cat food by the crate disappear, along with the occasional unwary mailman. And Buster loves Gabby, no lightweight herself at seventeen pounds, who despises Buster. So instead of helping Buster work out his tantalizing fantasies amid the awkward logistics of mad passionate Sumo affection, Gabby spends each day hiding from her waddling suitor. Don’t know what he sees in her. Recently, Gabby was knocking us out with some horrible, varnish-blistering cat breath, so we took her to the vet for a teeth-cleaning – only to be knocked out again by a bill for $680. Next time, we’ll try to save some money and take her to an actual dentist.

All in all, it has been another terrific year in our terrific lives together -- married almost 28 years. We are so thankful to the Lord for His many blessings. We know these are tough times and life could get very interesting in a bad way, economically or health-wise, as we are no longer spring chickens. More like tough old buzzards now. No matter what happens, we will do our best to count our blessings and keep the faith. The Lord has a plan, and though we don’t always know what part we will play, we need to be determined to play it as well as we can as it unfolds before us. We hope that you and yours will have a blessed Christmas season, and each and every day remember the glad tidings of great joy that moved the shepherds, inspired the wise men, and brought hope and joy into a fallen world.

The Dog Ate Our Civil Rights

Did you know you could be convicted of a felony for lying to a federal agent? It gets better. Did you know you could be convicted of a felony for lying to a federal agent over a casual (i.e., not pertinent to criminal wrongdoing) remark, even if you were not under oath? You might reply, well, simple, just don't answer a federal agent's questions. If it were only so easy. Did you know that you can be prosecuted for not answering a federal agent's questions? Did you know that you could spend five to eight years in a federal penitentiary for falling short of perfection on any the above scenarios?

You should read this article by Solomon L. Wisenberg, of the law firm Barnes & Thornburg. Here is a synoposis of the article posted at Jerry Pournelle's web site.

Money graf:

[Wisenberg:] "Is there an intelligent alternative to lying or telling the truth that we have not yet examined? Yes. ...you can politely decline to be interviewed by the FBI agent. Tell the agent that you have an attorney and that 'my attorney will be in contact with you.' If the agent persists, say that you will not discuss anything without first consulting counsel. Ask for the agent's card, to give to your attorney. If you have not yet hired a lawyer, tell the agent that 'I want to consult a lawyer first' or that 'an attorney will be in touch with you.' The absolutely essential thing to keep in mind is to say nothing of substance about the matter under investigation. It is preferable to do this by politely declining to be interviewed in the absence of counsel. If the agent asks 'why do you need an attorney?' or 'what do you have to hide?' do not take his bait and directly respond to such questions. (Do not even say that you have nothing to hide.) Simply state that you will not discuss the matter at all without first consulting counsel and that counsel will be in touch with him. If the agent asks for a commitment from you to speak with him after you have consulted or retained counsel, do not oblige him. Just respond that you will consult with your attorney (or 'an' attorney) and that the attorney will be in touch. And by all means do not get bullied or panicked into making up a phony reason for refusing to talk. You are not obliged to explain your decision to anyone."

Pournelle adds (but remember that Pournelle, to the best of my knowledge, is not a lawyer, and neither for that matter am I)...

"The law cannot require me to have an accurate memory; and since I no longer do, it would seem to me simple prudence to say that I am not sure of my recollection and therefore I don't think I should say anything.

"The obvious remedy to this nonsense is to bring back the practice that was standard for most of my life: that which you state under penalty of perjury is in fact accurate under penalty of perjury. That which is simply said to investigators, agents, hirelings and bondsmen of the various regimes is to be evaluated by the agent's experience and judgment. I was brought up on the notion that it was a civic duty to cooperate with the police and authorities, and I count it a major disaster that we have thrown that all away in favor of the rule of fear and terror. The Martha Stewart case was treason against the entire notion of a Republic: not Ms. Stewart, but the 'investigators' who ought to be dismissed and the prosecutors who ought to be disbarred and dismissed with prejudice.

"The notion that one can be prosecuted for denying that you did something that is not a crime to begin with is monstrous and those involved in that prosecution ought to be so ashamed that they withdraw forever from public life. They have neither honor nor good sense."

Does any of this really surprise anyone who was appalled when President Obama proclaimed... excuse me, no, when he bragged that America is not a Christian nation? Well, I guess we're not surprised. If basic Christian fear of the Lord isn't there to hold someone back from treating other people's lives like a singleton in a game of bridge, what will? Nothing, or so it seems. More and more, this does not seem like the country I grew up in.

It used to be that federal agents and district attorneys were well-respected members of society, and the presumption was that they sought justice. Now, it seems safer to say they seek not justice, but scalps -- and Congress has given them the tomahawks with which to acquire them. In this discussion at Pajamas Media of how the Violence Against Women Act enables women to use the law to settle scores with their hapless ex-husbands and -boyfriends, in the Comments section, the following post by someone who calls himself "Bond" made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck:

"I am a surety agent, bail bondsman and bounty hunter, in Michigan. My company does between 5 and 10 Domestics a week and about a 1000 bonds a year. My best estimate of Domestics is that roughly 95% are a shouting match with no physical contact (how do I know this, I get to see virtually all of the VICTIMS and they tell me so). A neighbor, in-law, child, spouse calls 911 and someone IS going to jail. Almost always the male.

"Out of 10 Domestics we see repeats ALL THE TIME. I would estimate 1 out of three will have a repeat within two weeks. Often it is a disgruntled neighbor, in-law, child or spouse trying to get back at the defendant and they see them and call and the police go pick them up, no questions asked. Don’t even need to be near the ‘Victim’ and the victim may not even agree with the re-arrest, BUT that doesn’t matter. It’s the law

"Currently I have a client who is at level 4 which is where the charge changes to aggravated stalking. He is in a divorce situation and to say his wife is angry would be putting it lightly. He has not seen his soon to be ex-wife since February or talked to her, but she has been doing things like setting up emails for him and sending herself nasty statements. Or she saw him walking down the street or driving his car somewhere and felt threatened and yes he gets re-arrested.

"The Prosecutor is well known in this county for being a horror show when it comes to Domestic and this judge is sort of an odd duck. In any event the defendant is now sitting on a $125,000 bond (I have never seen a bond this big on a domestic) and the prosecutor is trying to put him away in the Big House in Jackson with a plea bargain. Plea bargains are the norm and their [sic] are a zillion ways for a prosecutor to use this tool to twist the arm of guilty and not guilty individuals into taking a plea.

"From a guy in the trenches, trust me on this one, you are guily [sic] until proven innocent in the this country. Furthermore prosecutors have more power than God or judges and the system often doesn’t work as intended (good law gone bad). At least that’s what I see all the time. There are bad people and guilty ones at that, not saying there aren’t, but there is a healthy small percentage of people in jail that were railroaded.

"From my vantage point in order to be a prosecutor you either have to have to be born without a heart or have it cut out before you can become one. They are ruthless as a group in my view.

"...Oh the stories I could tell you."

Just remember all this the next time someone complains about a "do-nothing Congress" or "gridlock". Gridlock isn't a bug; it's a feature. It isn't like passing laws for the sake of passing laws is such a wonderful thing. The good laws were already written years ago, but Congress doesn't mind writing bad laws to keep their hats in. Every new law imposes both foreseen and unforeseen costs on citizens. And, when you cannot routinely expect prosecutors and federal agents to behave in an honorable fashion, those bad laws will be used against people who have done little to justify the horrible consequences that come their way.

Manners, Planners, and Ball-Peen Hammers

I spent most of my 26 year career in computer programming (Good Heavens, has it been that long!?) as a defense contractor, and one of our most sacred precepts was to be, above all, polite to the customer, namely, the federal government.  I have had the opportunity to work with (in order), the war planners -- U.S. Air Force, Army, Navy, and civilian personnel -- at a joint command (U.S. Strategic Command), the Defense Intelligence Agency, and a Naval shipyard, before settling down as a database administrator for a municipality.  And I cannot recall once, ever, being intentionally rude to a customer.  Now, I'm sure it happened anyway -- rudeness, I mean.  When I was younger, and particularly when I was under pressure (which seemed like, well, all the time), it wouldn't take much to make my forehead sizzle and my blood pressure percolate.  I'm here to testify, the federal government is a very trying customer.  But I fought against my urges, and for the most part, I like to pretend that I succeeded -- with a spectacular failure here and there.  I was certainly held responsible for my lapses and made to feel ashamed of them, as I should have been.

Now, I'm on the other side of the customer-contractor relationship, and at some point during the intervening years, something changed.  Maybe it's my perspective.  Or maybe it's the incentives.  I don't know.  But I deal with contractors now on a regular basis, and I haven't noticed that they particularly value anymore the old injunction to be polite to the customer. Quite the contrary, in fact.

Yesterday, I was explaining to a project manager for one of our vendors that, no, we cannot grant system administrator privileges to a service login -- it's bad architecture for their application, and it's bad security practice for our organization.  So we did finally arrive at a compromise, after some degree of wailing and teeth-gnashing.  After that, though, I got involved in a different project and of course there were still some emails flying.  It wasn't clear to me that I was required to do anything more, but apparently,I was very much expected to create a service login and password and give it to the vendors.  Finally, I got an email from the vendor's project manager that said:  

"When are you going to give us a login/password?  We are patiently waiting."

Now, part of this is the problem of email: it's hard to email a tone of voice.  But I maintain that it is hard to misread that remark; it seems very sarcastic.  It's what my sixth-grade teacher would have said if I were in arrears on a homework problem.  It's what my Mom would have said if I were eight years old and holding up dinner by having to go wash my hands.

Bolstering this interpretation is that others in the office had already dealt with this particular project manager, and so there was already a reputation there for authoritarian rudeness.

It's like the customer-contractor relationship has been inverted.  The customer is always wrong -- or at least always the obstacle to success.

This is by no means the only example I can tell of contractor rudeness.  It seems to make little sense from an economic perspective, but that may not be the way things actually are.  If a contractor makes promises to a particular office and then has trouble meeting their stated goal, the IT shop is always first in the line-up, first in the dock, and first to the Guillotine as the "preventer of Information Technology."  Nine times out of ten, your organization will side with the vendor, who promises the moon, over IT's own gratification-denying m.o..  If IT is successfully portrayed to upper management as the buzz-killing culprit, we get upbraided and the contractor wins.

Security is one of the big issues.  In IT, nobody wants to talk about security issues.  They cost time.  They cost trouble.  They force a vendor to think very clearly about what he really needs, and most don't want to spend the resources to do that.  (I ought to know; I was a contractor; I understand deadlines.)  If granting sysadmin rights saves time, the vendor will insist you do that and may just go into a snit about it.  A month or so ago, with a different vendor, I was having a go-around with their rep and insisting that they plan on not having a sysadmin-login for the application.  The contractor wasn't rude at all, but he did shrug and insist confidently, "We've never had problems with security."

Which is beside the point, because security is not their problem; it's our problem.  If someone sneaks into the system and starts committing electronic vandalism, who risks getting fired?  The contractor?  Nope.  That would be, uh, someone else.

I think some people are nice by nature, and can't be any other way, even under pressure.  I've worked with a few people like this, and they are a joy to be around.  Some others are not nice by nature, and can't be any other way, no matter what the inducement.  I've worked with a few of those, too, and it makes you want to hit yourself on the head with a ball-peen hammer just to create a welcome distraction.  (And at times, I fear, I have been one of those.)  But I think most people are nice sometimes, and mean sometimes, but tend to respond to the incentives to be nicer than they might like to be, or would naturally tend to be.  It's why capitalists are nicer than communists.  It's why customers are generally more rude than vendors.  As a counterexample, it's why post office and DMV workers have a reputation for rudeness.  But not every customer-vendor dynamic is the same, and apparently, that's what I'm seeing.

I'm a thankful man, or like to pose as one.  I love my job, I love my work, and I love the economic rewards.  And in this day and age, I'm thankful to have it.  Surely I can find the grace to accept vendors no matter how much they may try one's patience.  I'm happy I didn't respond in kind to the project manager, and believe me, that's casting against type.

The Configured Code of Society

(I have been debating the merits of gay marriage over at Vital Remants in the comments section, and at some point in the debate became amazed at the lack of respect for tradition in the arguments in favor.  It prompted the following paean to conservatism, slightly edited, from me.)

Concerns about such things as hospital visitation rights are red herrings. The real goal of gay rights activists is for official and public recognition of gay marriage as normal, wholesome and mainstream. If the little solvable problems were all solved, that wouldn't end the crusade. They want the marriage certificate. Today, many have embraced the notion of justice in the form of gay marriage. A couple of generations ago, gays were persecuted, often even by Christians. Who knows where it will be in a couple more generations? Justice that depends on man's good opinion is here today and gone tomorrow. Some scoff at the Bible as the single standard, but the truth is that there are Biblical principles for treating women and slaves well. The word of God has a way of working itself into men's consciences and causing sin to come to a head.

Today, many have embraced the notion of justice in the form of gay marriage. The claim is that rationality demands it, an odd position for anyone to hold who doesn't believe in God. Anyhow, interesting that rationality has been taking it on the chin even in the halls of philosophical academia for more than a century. That's what happens when God is rejected as the explanation. Philosophers have tried for centuries to derive reason and morality starting with man as the foundation, and mostly have wound up eschewing reason altogether. I believe in a God that created reason and morals. Good luck finding an eternal principle based on personal opinion.

Unfortunately, gay rights aren't analogous to women and slaves. There is nothing in the Bible to indicate that being a woman or a slave is a moral failing -- unlike homosexuality, for which such indications are emphatically present. If you believe in Paul's authority as an apostle of Christ, you are compelled to take seriously his condemnations of immorality. (If you think he only picks on homosexuality, though, think again.)

In a democratic republic such as ours, the rights of Christians and non-Christians are, or should be, equally important. Slowly but surely, the legal barriers to the gay lifestyle have all but disappeared. Christians can no longer require gays to live in a manner that they approve of. But that's not what this issue is about. The issue is about requiring society as a whole, including Christians, to grant approval to gay relationships. Approval is a different thing than tolerance, and that's where the line is drawn.

 

Why can't gays just be happy with Christian tolerance? I know the answer. Liberals love to destroy institutions. They live for it. Marriage is just another notch in the holster. Some institutions have needed to come down and come down hard, no question. In case of slavery or Jim Crow, break glass and use liberals liberally. But not all institutions are bad, and many of them are essential to society in ways we can't begin to quantify.

I've met a few liberal computer programmers in my line of work, but most of the ones I have worked with are conservative. In fact, being a programmer myself, it makes me wonder how anyone can be a programmer and not be a conservative. Programming teaches you a lot about life by rubbing your nose in a number of important concepts. The limits of human reason. The fragility of complex systems. The difference between desirable and possible. You can change one line of code and have it break the entire system in unpredictable ways. The scary part is that no one person understands all there is to know about these systems. A lot of what passes for knowledge is wishful thinking. I see this every day.

Society is a complex system, too. We conservatives have our problems. We can be callous, for starters. But if there was one thing I would change about liberals, it's their willingness to breeze into the configured code of society and start hacking on it without a care in the world. Hope and change and all that. The change lives on when the hope is long gone. Liberals need to appreciate what we already have accomplished and to realize and respect how fragile the system is, and what they risk when they figure wrongly.

 

(Vital Remnants is a blog run by Martin Cothran, a philosopher and author of textbooks about logic.  He appears to be a Catholic -- are all Thomists Catholic?  He runs a hospitable blog and loves to discuss many of the ideas I think are important.)

How to Lose Wealth

Glenn Reynolds at Instapundit posted the following link today:

"IS THERE A HIGHER EDUCATION BUBBLE? Irate law school grads say they were misled about job prospects. 'As they enter the worst job market in decades, many young would-be lawyers are turning on their alma maters, blaming their quandary on high tuitions, lax accreditation standards and misleading job placement figures.'"

If you boil economics down to a tar-like fundamental substance, it amounts to this:  wealth is a function of knowledge.  Also, I suspect, vice versa.  If so, it follows that any economic policy or circumstance that decreases wealth also decreases the value of knowledge, which will eventually result in the loss of that knowledge.

In a thriving economy, there are lots of transactions.  Purchases.  Sales.  New businesses.  Mergers.  Acquisitions.  Plenty of opportunity for members of a fallen race to mix and mingle.  Therefore, plenty of opportunity for people to, well, screw each other over.  Hence, the law, and hence, lawyers.  The busier we depraved little capitalists get, the more we need lawyers to help us sort things out when the participants in a transaction quit singing, "Happy Days Are Here Again!" and start singing "Where Is the Love?"

And the converse:  the weaker the economy, the fewer the transactions, and hence the less demand there is for lawyers.

I understand why the law grads are irate.  But good luck suing the school.  They teach law, remember?

A year ago, in what I hope is one of my most tedious posts, I wrote the following:

"Economic woes tend to strike us at a primal level. The knowledge we have fought to acquire over the course of a lifetime has meant much to us in our struggle to distance ourselves from the desperate poverty that has dogged humankind throughout history. Within a few short months, a lousy job market can render such knowledge as worthless as a politician's promise. If the insurance companies go under, there will be no need for the actuary. If the software firms go out of business, there will be no role for the programmer -- or the DBA. We fear that we may need to acquire the knowledge of subsistence -- to learn how to grow vegetables and raise chickens in our backyards to feed ourselves -- and find ourselves at the bottom rather than the top of the knowledge ladder, worse off than the dirt farmers and food-gatherers who have been doing just that all along."

Thomas Sowell says the United States is headed for collapse.  When that happens, everything I know about administering databases will be worth very little, and so will the knowledge possessed even by the most seasoned lawyer about how to write a superb legal brief.  We'll both be studying how to keep the caterpillars off of our tomatoes and the neighbors out of our chicken hutch.

Bad Dog Food

The indispensable Michael Barone, for Democrats who have ears to hear, explains why Obama's poll numbers are sinking like a meat thermometer reading in a dead polar bear. Barone writes:

"It reminds me of the old story about the advertising agency and the dog food. The best ads in the world failed to increase sales of the dog food. So they sent a market researcher in and found the reason: The dogs didn’t like the dog food. The Democrats’ problem is similar. The American people don’t like the dog food ('legislation that seems both necessary and proper to them') produced by the Obama Democrats."

The Gulf oil spill is part of it, but it's more than that. I've been voting since Nixon/McGovern, and reading William Buckley since 8th grade, and I've never seen a crop of Democrats this politically tone-deaf before. And I think I know why. They let the power go to their heads. They allowed Bush's unpopularity to be interpreted as their agenda's popularity. They think they won power on their own merits, and they think it's theirs for keeps.

And it doesn't help that they live in the Washington media echo chamber and probably don't even know anyone who isn't a liberal. There never is heard a discouraging word.

In short, they've adopted the psychology of royalty. Let them eat cake, and all that.

But this is a country that (still) holds elections. They haven't been thinking in terms that we (the little people) have the power to throw them out. They're confident in their ability (through the compliant media) to present chicken crap as a chicken salad sandwich. They think there will be enough liberal talking-heads who brace themselves before the cameras, take a bite, and force a yummy smile.

Only it isn't 1933 anymore. Or even 1980.  Big media is dying, businessmen are having to choose whether to sell their souls to the corporate-fascist state, doctors and nurses are looking at a career of being DMV clerks, lawyers are nervous about Congress' designs on their 401Ks, and the soon-to-be former middle class are watching horrified as Washington's mad power grabs and borrowing are turning us into West Zimbabwe.

Only three things can happen:

1. American voters will drink the Kool-Aid and go gentle into that good night.
2. Or, this fall and beyond, there is going to be an electoral rout the magnitude of which has never been seen before.
3. Or, there will be a coup.

I'm going with number two, which coincidentally is the same number that the Democrats have been doing on the country.