Spin — Chicago Sun Times — Forward (not an obit)

Spin — Chicago Sun Times — Forward (not an obit)

He competed ferociously and successfully, his blood pressure went down, he slept better, but in the end he blew it and either withdrew or got kicked out. Why? Because he never caught on to the trick of Louisiana civility, the knack of banter and horsing around, easing up, joshing and joking—in a word, the American social contract, in virtue of which ideology is mitigated by manners and humor if not friendship. He could not help himself. On the links he could hack up the fairway, hook and slice and curse with the best of them, but afterward in the clubhouse he could not suppress his Central American rage. One doesn’t do this. His fellow ROBs didn’t like Communists or liberals or blacks any more than he did. But one doesn’t launch tirades over bourbon in the locker room. One vents dislikes by jokes. But Enrique could never see the connection between anger and jokes (unlike Freud and the ROBs). He never caught on to the subtle but inviolable American freemasonry of civility. And so he got kicked out.
*****
What I want to tell them is, this is not the Age of Enlightenment but the Age of Not Knowing What to Do.
*****
TV has screwed up millions of people with their little rounded-off stories. Because that is not the way life is. Life is fits and starts, mostly fits. Life doesn’t have to stop with failure. Not only do you not have to jump in the creek, you can even take pleasure in the general recklessness of life, as I do, a doctor without patients sailing paper P-51s at a martin house. I am a failed but not unhappy doctor.
*****
Cure? No. What’s a cure in this day and age? Maybe a cure is knowing there is no cure.

H/T to Yanis Varoufakis for highlighting Srećko Horvat’s The Cyber-War on Wikileaks. (I was critical of the diplomatic leaks of a few years back but have now changed my mind given how unabashed and cunningly mendacious these bad actors are along with their complicitous presstitutes and tenured apologists).
I bet the lobster risotto is better than the food at the Ecuadorian Embassy

Happy birthday to a rock ‘n roll grandee. Here is Berry’s chatty innuendo-laden extended version of Dave Bartholomew’s My Ding-a-Ling (Dave himself is still going at 97). It used to be the Mary Whitehouses of the world who wanted to ban the ditty, now of course such draconian moves emanate from the regressive left. (Yes, I’m aware of CB’s past).
Journalism/opinion at its best and surprisingly not in an organ one would expect — at least lately. Sarah Smarsh’s incisive article (sans the standard academic virtue-signaling) illustrates why the electoral choices on offer are symptomatic of a long-standing boil that needs to be lanced — however messy it may become for a while. Using class spectacles, it is clear that both the Right and most especially the Left have used their respective blue collar consistencies merely as entitled election-cycle cannon fodder. The irony is that arguably one of the most powerful sociological diagnostic tools — class and its account of exploitation, alienation and estrangement — has been forsaken by a bankrupt Left for the relentless and, as a consequence, pointless overreach of language and thought policing. Now they are severely pissed off that the proletariat “a class in itself” is becoming a class “for itself” — except that this revolutionary consciousness is unacceptable (i.e. Brexit) because its comprised by the wrong people — i.e. those not part and parcel of the bicoastal “lifestyle enclaves” and arbiters of the taste industrial complex (universities/media). And the traditional Right has been complicit in this — hence the scathing swipe at David Brooks.
The two-fold myth about the white working class – that they are to blame for Trump’s rise, and that those among them who support him for the worst reasons exemplify the rest – takes flight on the wings of moral superiority affluent Americans often pin upon themselves.
I’m hard-pressed to think of a worse slight than the media figures who have disregarded the embattled white working class for decades now beseeching the country to have sympathy for them. We don’t need their analysis, and we sure don’t need their tears. What we need is to have our stories told, preferably by someone who can walk into a factory without his own guilt fogging his glasses.
That problem is rooted in the notion that higher class means higher integrity.
A journalism that embodies the plutocracy it’s supposed to critique has failed its watchdog duty and lost the respect of people who call bullshit when they see it.

Very good news. I thoroughly enjoyed poking around the archives in person.

There is also some Tooleana in the Percy holdings across the road at Loyola for those in the area.