Jay Bennett: musical alchemist, gifted performer and rock star par excellence,Rest In Peace.

I -- doubtless, like many people who appreciate at least some of Wilco's music -- had always paid some attention, more or less out of the corner of my ear, to the musical activities of Jay Bennett after his unceremonious sacking from the band that he, as much as anyone else, was responsible for sparing from "alt-country" oblivion.

His initial post-Wilco release -- a collaboration with Edward Burch, called The Palace at 4 A.M. -- showed signs of promise, although it was by no means perfect. But it had some decent songs and interesting arrangements: it delivered the goods. Despite the fact that Bennett was understandably shocked and probably angry in the wake of his public dust-up with Jeff Tweedy -- preserved in Sam Jones's astonishingly deceptive act of filmic Tweedy-sycophancy I Am Trying to Break Your Heart -- at the time, it seemed to me and to others that someone as talented as Bennett, despite the shake-up, was going to carve out a niche for himself as an idiosyncratic sonic architect.

It's a shame that Bennett didn't find himself in the position where he could build something on the promise of his Burch collaboration. I don't know much of anything about the circumstances of Bennett's all-too-short personal life, but based upon his disappointing subsequent musical output alone, it was clear that something just wasn't working out quite right. That's too bad, because, given the right circumstances and collaborators, he could have spearheaded the development of the aesthetic he helped to invent (especially in Wilco's last couple of albums before he left), an aesthetic that captured the imaginations of lots of listeners and which went on to be unknowingly appropriated by numberless flash-in-the-pan trust-fund dilettantes, all of whom were based in Brooklyn.

After all, he obviously was a whiz in the studio, and so what if he wasn't going to make tons of money putting out records on small labels and producing country-twanged punk bands no one's ever heard of? In terms of money, it's not as though any members of Wilco, past or present, manage to actually get rich and famous off of it. It's a steady gig, but from what I have heard, Tweedy hangs on to the lion's share of the profits. So getting kicked out of Wilco could in the end be a lot like leaving your 9:00 to 5:00 to become a freelancer: an opportunity to start over, to wipe the slate clean and approach things from a different angle.

Although the press tended to cast Bennett as the 'dreadlocked obsessive-compulsive heavy-handed pop craftsman genius' and Tweedy as the 'anxious, indecisive vomiting, genre-shifting charismatic scruff-muffin genius', it was Bennett, more so than Tweedy, who scented the Wilco brand with the musty perfume of esoterica, without which -- I admit -- I probably never would have paid the band any attention in the first place.

Sam Jones's Stalinistically edited exercise in sepia-toned hagiography makes it seem as though Bennett basically wanted to hold Wilco back, for it to remain forever a "bar band" that stomped out predictable, chunky rawk, whereas Tweedy had already read through that particular "box full of letters" one too many times and was ready to move on to unforeseen sonic and poetic vistas. It tries to make Tweedy look -- you know -- deep, man. Turns out he was just on painkillers, idem quod Paula Abdul.

I would argue that the only area in which Tweedy is genuinely an exceptional talent is in matters of taste. And that isn't quite hitting the mark. He sure didn't come out of the "box" that way. I think he is -- or anyway, was at one point -- really good at reading and anticipating the -- can't believe I'm putting it this way -- Zeitgeist. I think that, if he is an artist, his artistry has to do in part with this sort of radar for the direction in which things are going. A sense of how not to end up stranded or out on a limb, left for dead in a kind of musical ghetto. If he is an artist, his ability to filter something through the right cultural grills is the closest we can come to identifying his brush and canvass.

In direct contradistinction to the binary of "Bennett-artless/Tweedy-subtle" that the film tries to propose on a certain conscious level, there is a shadowy subconscious logic that is an equally powerful component. The movie makes it clear that, as a musician, Tweedy is a babe in the woods. Without the Glen Kotches, the Jim O'Rourkes, the Jay Bennetts, the Jay Farrars, he has no material to work with. The apex of Bennett's and Tweedy's collaboration was indubitably 1999's Summerteeth -- about which, more in a second.

(I believe 2002's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot -- whose success is due in large part to the Bennett-Tweedy writing and arranging collaboration -- to be superior to Summerteeth. However, this success is due equally to the outstanding contributions of Jim O'Rourke as a producer, mixer and editer. There were a lot of cooks working on that broth; astonishingly, it didn't spoil. God, that was a lame way of putting it. But you know what I mean, etc., etc.)


Summerteeth is the album that, as I mentioned above, put Wilco on the map for much of the record-buying cognoscenti, belying the false dichotomy of Jones's film. The album quotes old styles, but it does so in the manner of self-conscious and unapologetically gorgeous pastiche. It's an album that is saturated with Jay Bennett, and an album on which Bennett's multifarious, megalomaniacal compositional, alchemical, intellectual and instrumental energies come close to eclipsing Tweedy entirely. But Sounds of the Seventies it ain't.

The fact is that without Tweedy to sell the thing, no one would ever have heard Summerteeth. It is Tweedy's very continual presence in the band -- even more than stewardship of it (if that makes sense) -- that makes the band seem like it's progressive, like it's got one eyeball pressed to the horizon. Without the constancy of the Tweedy myth in the hurricane's eye, nobody would have bought the idea of Summerteeth as "breaking new ground." It would have seemed merely to be evidence of a band that is unfocused, mercurial and even fickle. Tweedy provides the necessary continuity through the agility of his personality. His influence upon the music itself tends to lie somewhere between unremarkable and non-existent. Instead, he is the spokesman. His moods, whims and preoccupations are like a weather vein around which the ever-changing band lineup swarms, siphoning off attitudinal and spiritual direction.

Lest we become tempted to go on a Tweedy-bashing spree, let us admit that it's a rock movie and all rock movies are about myths. And all rock 'n' roll is about myths. Some critiques of the movie focus on how embarrassing it is to see musicians (grown men) cultivating and buying into their self-mythologies. I see what these critiques mean, and they probably account for why I could never imagine sitting around watching the thing on DVD as I had once, as a younger man, had the stomach to do on rainy Sunday afternoons.

The movie I was seeing then is no different than the one that I choose not to see now. It's just that in the old days I was interested in a certain kind of rock 'n' roll mythology. I'm sure that I'm still into rock 'n' roll mythology, but just not the sepia-toned, vomiting-into-toilets kind. In any case, my point is that, although the film is a bit of a hatchet-job on Bennett, it simultaneously captures the perils -- and the rewards -- of living out one's self-mythology.

Bennett had joined Wilco after its first album, A.M. I'm fond of A.M., but had the band continued in that springtime, acoustic country mold, I probably would never have really gotten around to listening to Wilco. It would have ended up a slightly tone-deaf version of the Jayhawks -- a band that's good in theory, but that has not inspired me to listen closely or frequently.

Jeff Tweedy is Wilco's sole permanent member -- with the exception of bass player and back-up singer John Stirratt. The founding of the band resulted from Reprise Records having handed Tweedy, on a silver platter, a recording contract, after the demise of the supposedly legendary Uncle Tupelo, in which Tweedy had played second fiddle (figuratively) to the husky baritone Jay Farrar (who himself was handed a contract on silver platter, leading to the formation of Son Volt, whose first album, Trace, is quite fantastic and whose subsequent albums are all retreads of the first).

After Wilco cut A.M. with a cast of ringers, Bennnett was recruited as the band's permanent lead guitarist. In this role, he excelled, but he turned out to be much more than that. Beginning with the 1996 album Being There, Bennett's facility with electric, acoustic and pedal-steel guitar , his piano and keyboard work, his arranging, his enormous supply of instruments and gizmos, and his wizardry as a producer and engineer all played a crucial role in putting Wilco on the map. I'm not sure what map, exactly, because the band has never become as popular as, say the Rolling Stones. But its following as a performance attraction expanded exponentially, and it was held in higher and higher esteem among record buyers and aesthetes.

I'm not one of those assholes who ran my college radio station, but I have long been a member of the (now dwindling) record-buying set. It was 1999's Summerteeth that first managed to make me interested in the band. It must have been not too long after its release that a college friend of mine -- I think that I had just broken up with my girlfriend and he had just gotten dropped by his, so it was kind of a shitty phase for both of us, and we were probably conspiring on a nightly basis to keep one another drunk -- insisted that I listen to the album with him. He was into songwriting and lyrics and stuff, something that I had not really latched onto yet (with the exception of probably Bob Dylan).

I was into notes, melodies, chords, bass lines and production and soundscapes. And the sort of bleary-eyed, mid tempo, grainy lushness of Summerteeth really impressed me. I think this was just before a period during which tons of bands -- like the Flaming Lips (also to good effect) -- kind of discovered a similar echo-y, Mellotron-ish sound. This production technique and these arrangements came pretty much entirely from the mad-scientist brain/soul of Jay Bennett.

In fact: not only did Bennett dream up this unique and provocative sound, but, beginning with the previous Wilco project -- the first of two collaborations with the English folk/punk singer/songwriter Billy Bragg called Mermaid Ave in which unused Woody Guthrie lyrics were set to original music -- that Jay Bennett became Tweedy's full songwriting partner. This songwriting collaboration continued through Summerteeth and up to and including 2002's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

The collaboration yielded, without question, the very finest compositions that the band has recorded. Summerteeth's beautiful "My Darling" was written entirely by Jay Bennett, as were massive amounts of other great music on that album, YHT and the Mermaid Ave. albums. His natural melodic sense (something that, let's not kid ourselves, Tweedy just doesn't have and has never had), combined with his penchant for sonic alchemy, contributed to Bennett's massive gift for composing memorable accompaniments and adventurous contrapuntal lines.

Scott Galupo, in an obituary contributed to The Washington Times, lays out an interesting analysis, similar in spirit to the more comprehensible of my bloggish ramblings:

Through [the] distorted lens [of Sam Jones's I Am Trying to Break Your Heart], Mr. Bennett was not the multi-instrumentalist and recording engineer who helped transform the musicians of Wilco from alt-country castoffs into sonic envelope-pushers; rather, he was a pedantic, peevish excrescence who outlived his usefulness to the movie's hero, singer-songwriter Jeff Tweedy

"I think that felt great," Mr. Bennett is heard to say after the band runs down a rowdy, guitar-driven outtake of the track "Kamera," a more subdued version of which eventually was released on Wilco's celebrated LP "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot." Mr. Tweedy replied that the rendition felt "obsolete." In the movie, the word echoes beyond its immediate context and ends up as a kind of scarlet 'O' on Mr. Bennett himself.

In the documentary's loving portrait, Mr. Tweedy is a kind of secular martyr; he suffers physically and spiritually to birth his beautiful art.

I came away with a very different impression of Mr. Tweedy from Chicago rock critic Greg Kot's more sober band biography, "Wilco: Learning How to Die." I would characterize the Jeff Tweedy who emerges from those pages as a ruthless visionary with limited musical ability who needs to outsource innovation and, consequently, sheds friends and band mates with unnerving ease. Mr. Bennett was both the beneficiary and victim of Mr. Tweedy's creative cycle: from chief aide at his peak to marginalized hanger-on at the end.

Though Mr. Tweedy might not put it in such stark terms himself, the astonishing leap Wilco made from its 1994 debut, "A.M.," to 1996's double CD "Being There" was midwifed by Mr. Bennett. Left to his own devices, Mr. Tweedy would have remade "A.M." — not a bad album, to be sure, but hardly remarkable in retrospect.

The heavily overdubbed "Summerteeth" (1999), with its whirl of analog synthesizers, Mellotrons and other keyboards, saw Wilco flee its alt-country origins and embrace more complicated layers of sound and melody — which, again, Mr. Tweedy could not have produced on his own. [...]

It's funny. A couple of years ago, back in the Smallwire days, we played a show out in the Chicago suburbs god-knows-where (it was a great show!), and anyway, Thax Douglas was there, and he needed a ride home. So, I and whomever else was in the car with me (can't remember...maybe Kristin?) had this long long conversation with Thax. One of the things that he mentioned was how much he hated the guys in Wilco. This was after they had flown him out to introduce Wilco at a big show they were playing at Madison Square Garden. This must have been not long after A Ghost Is Born was released. Anyway, he mentioned what a bunch of dicks they were, or in any event, that he decided they were. Apparently, he detected that some in the Wilco organization had begun to adopt a patronizing attitude toward him. I remember thinking, good for him. Who needs those guys, if that's the case?

Anyway, he also mentioned -- and at the time swore me to secrecy -- that Jay Bennett was planning to take legal action against Tweedy, et al., due to royalty payments he was owed, and other such things. It made sense even then, because he not only played on Wilco's two best albums (four, if you include the Mermaid Ave. albums), but he co-wrote almost all of the songs. And so, if they were not paying what they owed, it seems it would make sense to take them to court.



In any event, it wasn't until after the news of Bennett's passing that I heard that at the beginning of May, formal charges were finally filed on Bennett's behalf. I have no idea how these things work. I read somewhere that, for whatever reason, there was a long period of paperwork-type stuff before a suit was officially filed. But easily more than two years have elapsed between the occasion upon which Thax mentioned this to me and the occasion of the actual court filing.

Who knows. I've heard -- through the proverbial grapevine, not from Thax -- that Bennett had his share of problems with substances, and that this accounted in part for the patchiness of some of his post-Wilco output. But whatever. Making speculations like that is akin to attributing his shocking demise to the sheer psychological blow of getting dropped from a successful medium-sized band, and that's rock 'n' roll mythology. Rock mythology is a complete lie. That's why it's fun. That's also why it's useless in trying to understand something as complex and fragile as human life. We only knew Bennett through his music. Creating great music has the effect of giving people something; in rare cases like Bennett's, that something is a lot. But it's a fraction of a fraction of a human being.

The GOP fraternity's quandary:What to do about Rush?

The New York Times's Timothy Egan weighed in a couple of days ago on the apparent non-news story of the moment: a game of 'hot potato' being played among various factions of the Republican Party. The hot potato they're tossing back and forth is the grotesque, meaty melon of Rush Limbaugh. Below is excerpted Egan's blog entry on the subject, titled Fears of a Clown:

Once upon a time, you could drive to the most remote reaches of the United States and escape Rush Limbaugh. But from the Mogollon Mountains of New Mexico to the Badlands of South Dakota, where only the delicious twang of a country tune or the high-pitched pleadings of a lone lunatic came over the AM dial, there is now the Mighty El Rushbo.

As someone who spends a lot of time on the road, I used to find Limbaugh to be an obnoxious but entertaining companion, his eruptions more reliable than Old Faithful. But now that Limbaugh has become something else — the face of the Republican Party, by a White House that has played him brilliantly — he has been transformed into car-wreck-quality spectacle, at once scary and sad.

Behold:

The sweaty, swollen man in the black, half-buttoned shirt who ranted for nearly 90 minutes Saturday at the Conservative Political Action Conference. He reiterated his desire to see the president of his country fail. He misstated the Constitution’s intent while accusing President Obama of “bastardizing” the document. He made fun of one man’s service in Vietnam, to laughter.

David Letterman compared him to an Eastern European gangster. But he looked more like a bouncer at a strip club who spent all his tips on one bad outfit. And for the Republican Party, Limbaugh has become very much a vice.

Smarter Republicans know he is not good for them. As the conservative writer David Frum[*] said recently, “If you’re a talk radio host and you have five million who listen and there are 50 million who hate you, you make a nice living. If you’re a Republican party, you’re marginalized.”

Apart from a couple of unconvincing conclusions that Egan reaches later in the piece, this seems a pretty decent analysis of a current political/media sideshow (that I confess I haven't been following very closely). Egan correctly identifies the 'straw-man' technique that has for the last 20 years or longer been one of the GOP's most consistent and elegantly executed tactics. The key to pulling it off -- and the reason why the Democrats hadn't been any good at it in the pre-Obama era -- is doing it with a sense of humor. Why is a sense of humor so important?

Consider that in the past, Limbaugh-hatred was either (1) shrill and way too earnest or (2) holier-than-thou and self-congratulatory. The first tendency had the effect of expanding Limbaugh's power and influence because it rewarded him for cloaking his run-of-the-mill intellectual dishonesty in an aura of mischief and insouciance. This insouciance, at once contagious and 'empowering' to his audience, was applied to the task of caricaturing ever-more-outrageously various Democratic Party sacred cows (feminism, multiculturalism, political correctness etc.). This seemed a particular thorn in the side of the Democratic Party throughout much of the 90s (in fact, perhaps beginning with Michael Dukakis's failed 1988 presidential bid): the Dems were the squares, who -- in the eyes of many a country bumpkin and many a Wall Street trader alike -- didn't "get" it. In that era, the Dems allowed Rush to frame discourses in his own increasingly ludicrous (and, spiritually, racist and fascistic) terms. The Dems lacked the savvy to respond in a way that is disposed structurally to draw attention to the very 'straw man'-ness of his 'straw man' criticisms.
Circumstances have changed. It is this very savvy that the intuitive politician Barack Obama possesses in spades. Our new president wields this powerful weapon deftly, and thus, he exposes convincingly the hysterical patchiness of the rantings of Limbaugh and ilk, and he manages to do so in such a way as to charm your mother's pants off! The talent of the Republican Party for 'messaging' and propaganda has long been superior to that of the Democrats. But, ever since the majority of the public turned against the Iraq War, it's been painfully clear that its effectiveness has run its course.

The GOP sloganeering- and outrage-machine is fueled not on ideas but on sound-bites that serve as stand-ins for ideas. Once its pattern of rhetorical brinkmanship is exposed in all of its fraudulence -- as was done spectacularly in the aftermath of the invasion of Iraq -- there's no recourse to a coherent set of underlying principles or ideas. In other words, it, like Fox News, is all smoke-and-mirrors.

Obama knows how to deal with smoke-and-mirrors. All you have to do is pucker up and blow the smoke away. The Elephant will then see its own naked reflection. And it will be ashamed.

The second tendency that I outline above -- that of self-righteousness -- made the Democrats fall into the trap that their antagonist had set for them: that of embodying the very caricature that America's favorite squishy-necked pill-popper had spent all of his hate-energy expounding. This not only appeared to Limbaugh's audience to confirm the validity of what he was saying, but it simultaneously further endeared him to his fanatical audience. Remember: this is an audience that has lived through its Savior vicariously. Rush's audience couldn't help but take personally any and all insults/slights that were directed against him. His not inconsiderable talent is that of making his devoted listener feel that he has something at stake in Limbaugh's treatment among the chattering classes. The egomaniac's egomaniac, el Rushbo beckons his avid listener to see the world through Rush's beady eyes. As Limbaugh would have it, the politician or journalist who behaves dismissively toward Rush is, in fact, behaving dismissively toward them and 'their kind', however narrowly circumscribed this category (racially, for instance) might be.

Even worse for the Dems of the 90s: self-righteousness is the character flaw that conditions the ugly act of scolding, and the best way to provoke somebody's irrational fury against an amorphous 'enemy' -- especially when the somebody in question has an inferiority complex to begin with -- is to scold him.**

Now the GOP is at last forced to come to terms with its ideological incoherence, the fracturing of the myriad marriages of convenience that were holding together its recent political alliances. Inevitably, this involves lots of finger-pointing. And, sure enough, it is not now the Democratic Party, but indeed Rush Limbaugh who comes across both as shrill and as taking himself way too seriously. As Egan observes correctly, the Dems have done a masterful job of exploiting this situation, and are reaping considerable benefit. The vast majority of voters identify the Democratic Party as the party of competent adults.

True, it is primarily Obama's administration -- and not Congressional Dems -- that enjoys this deserved reputation. But with George W. Bush's parting gift, the economy, in a free-fall -- the unemployment rate, an astounding 8.1 percent, is the highest it's been in twenty-five years --, all of these idiotic "no" votes among Republicans on any and all Obama-sponsored stimulus or spending packages are likely to come back to bite the GOP in the ass.

The continuing series of callow, nakedly partisan whine-fests from the likes of House Majority Leader John "Indignant Hillbilly" Boehner contribute to the stiff scent that's in the air: that of a major political party marginalizing itself seemingly out of existence... The Democrats, as long as they don't fall back into the traps of moral righteousness, multiculturalism as practiced in the early 90s,*** and so-called political correctness, will continue to reap benefits from turning the spotlight in the direction of the GOP airing its own dirty-laundry.

Obama's Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel, like him or hate him (why bother choosing?), is a good mouthpiece for talking trash about Limbaugh precisely because Emanuel's a dick and doesn't pretend otherwise. Counterintuitive as it might seem, the fact that there is obviously something calculated behind the Dems' going after Limbaugh is actually what makes it work so well. This is because it is precisely the interaction between calculation and execution that makes this and any non-news story so damned entertaining. It's like watching a baseball team pull off a sacrifice fly to score an RBI.

A brief note on moral righteousness. It is true that certain species of moral righteousness play a role in Obama's shtick, but that's not the part of his shtick that is in any way partisan. Obama reserves this righteousness for affirming values about which there is near-unanimity -- values that are no less significant for their universality.

Obama will denounce torture, for instance, but opposition to torture is still -- THANK GOD -- a defining moral principle held among the vast majority of Americans, the exceptions including some truly slimy, invidious creeps like William Kristol and Alan Dershowitz. Anyway, as long as Dems don't start to press so hard as to actually create sympathy for Limbaugh, they'll benefit from this approach.

Actually, I take that back. It occurs to me that as soon as things get to the point at which Limbaugh becomes an object of sympathy, his relevance is at that moment forever demolished.

_________________
* For the record, while I'll concede that David Frum is probably a little bit smarter than Rush Limbaugh (although certainly nowhere near as successful -- by any measure), in no way should this be confused with acceptance of the completely fallacious notion that David Frum is smart.

** See Hitler, Adolph.

*** Mind you, I'm not against multiculturalism as such. I simply dislike some of the idiotic excesses that came along with it when middle school principals, etc., started getting their unenlightened paws on it. Uh, if that sounds a little wooden, I'll just say that I do actually espouse a principled criticism, but I'm not in the mood right now to go into the details of it.

An atheist denunciation of the polemical atheists.PART ONE: The rise of Oprah-atheism.

Sam Harris. Aw, shucks. What a nice, friendly, mellow, moderate, liberal, young man.

Re the proliferation of books for popular audiences that have entered the market over the past few years or so purporting to be (or marketed as being) 'arguments for atheism'. Call it atheism-for-beginners. Common to all of these popular-market writers -- among them Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett and Richard Dawkins -- is a combination of self-seriousness and one-dimensionality. Each author (with the possible partial exception of Hitchens) peddles his atheism in a voice approximate to that of 'experts' or even 'scientists' who appear on infomercials in order to endorse a that allows bald men to regrow their hair. Each acts as though his atheism is novel or unique. Think Oprah; think The Secret. As though atheism is this cool thing that the authors have just discovered, or there's this brand new formula that scientists have been developing in the lab. Or as though the state of world affairs is such that there are special, atheism-ready conditions on the ground, ripe for exploitation.

Your humble blogger's got nothing against atheism. In fact, he himself is an atheist.

There have been atheists of varying stripes since forever. In identifying one's particular species of atheism, it's often helpful to identify the religion into which one had been born and raised. This hazard -- that of having the dogma and practices of a particular religion foisted upon you during your upbringing -- befalls many a person. There's no insurance policy against it. Some such persons emerge into adulthood seemingly unscathed.

Although I have always had my doubts about the veracity of the claims of those in this apparently lucky few, I can report with total confidence that none in this lucky few -- not a single person -- was raised in the Catholic Church.

I can say this with authority, because I am -- and shall ever be -- a Catholic atheist.

Like many Catholic atheists, I endured twelve years of Catholic education. The final four years saw the gradual dissolution of both my need and inclination to pledge my obedience to a Celetial Dictator.* Perhaps it was mere coincidence that I during those four final years, I attended a Jesuit high school. In contradistinction to the meally-mouthed, self-contradictory, spineless pseudo-spiritual cant that was foisted upon me through eight years of Catholic grammar-school, my subsequent indoctrination in Jesuitism was a breath of fresh air.

Now, don't get me wrong: looking back, there's some seriously Christo-Fascist shit they serve you in the Jesuit Koolaid. But the good thing is that the Jesuits are and long have been in the business of education and scholarship. Which means there were interested in teaching their students about -- to the extent possible in any high school -- ideas. Not so much what you should or must think, but how. Again, sometimes how and what can be difficult to disentagle, and my brain's got the stretch-marks to prove it. But still.

Now, this part was very fortunate and helped open the door to the nonbelief that I so assiduously espouse. Because: where there are ideas -- and where there's the question of how to navigate ones way around and through them -- there is also atheism. Don't get me wrong, the latter by no means entails the former.

The fact is that all of the same arguments on both sides of this supposed 'pro-' vs. 'anti-' religious divide have been and continue to be recycled over and over again since.....I don' know.....Plato or something? Consider the following quotation from Thomas Jefferson:

My opinion is that there would never have been an infidel, if there had never been a priest. The artificial structures they have built on the purest of all moral systems, for the purpose of deriving from it pence and power, revolts those who think for themselves, and who read in that system only what is really there.

...letter to Mrs. Samuel H. Smith, 1816

Jefferson, of course, was a theist, which was about as many people got in his day to atheism. There are, of course, exceptions, like Rousseau and Diderot, et. al. And Jefferson was aware of these men. But, then as now, the distinction between the former -- belief in a benevolent God who does not interfere with earthly things -- and the latter is somewhat academic.

After Jefferson's time, there emerged, of course, still more forceful and often compelling forms of atheism. None of the thinkers who espoused some or another form of it harbored illusions about his having invented anything new. Theirs was a presentism that was -- in contradistinction to Harris, et. al -- not wanting for historicity. The discourses in which they were engaged were simply too gentlemanly -- in both the best (polite) and the worst (chauvinistic) senses -- to allow for much sloppiness and grandstanding.

Perhaps the most prominent exceptions to this gentlemanliness rule prove the rule. In the case of Marx, I shall simply state that he was not really an atheist author, in the sense that atheism didn't interest him in and of itself. It was his very reduction of religion to mere a mere instrumentality of bourgeois ideology -- brilliant and spot-on as it was -- that proves this fact. He made this explicit in his famous comment about religion as the 'opiate of the masses', and had previously explained this line of thinking in still greater detail in his "On 'The Jewish Question'." So, let's dismiss him, genius though he was, from the present discussion.

That leaves Nietszche. He might just be the Father of Shrill Atheism, no? There's logic in that idea. There's also logic in the proposition that he was preoccupied chiefly with the establishment of a new kind of religiosity. Yes, he was sometimes sloppy, but that was really just toward the end, when he was literally going mad. After all, those who declare Nietszche to be 'self-contradictory' are charlatans who don't understand (or aren't interested in understanding) what he was doing. The basis upon which I claim that his atheism conforms to the ethic of gentlemanliness that prevailed among his peers -- even when his peers may not have seen things that way -- is the unique performativity of Nietszche's writing. A sentence ago, I talked about his texts in terms of "what he was doing," and this is exactly how his texts are by and large to be understood: as doing, rather than saying.

Our modern-day publishing phenoms peddling their atheist wares cannot be given credit for this kind of genius or inventiveness. These recent pop-cultural atheism screeds are much more fun than either Marx or Nietzsche. Their glossy monographs aren't just the Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus's of their time -- which is to say, they're not just sugar-coated pills. They're candy-coated CANDY! In fact, what they represent is a brand new, groovy kind of lifestyle atheism. Remember those old I-Mac advertisements? Right around the time that Apple's television spots started to get really annoying? The I-Macs were sold in an array of colors -- of flavors -- from which the consumer could choose:

Likewise, each 'brand' of lifestyle atheism -- Harris, Hitchens, Dawkins, Dennett, et al. -- caters to its own sassy, au courant, metropolitan sensibility. Into science? Dennett's your man. Or maybe Dawkins....I can't keep 'em straight (they're both incredibly boring and frankly mediocre). Into literature and droll, rapier wit, with just the teeniest-spritz of Islamo-fascism-baiting? Then Hitchens is your man.

Into justifying the use of torture against enemies in the American War On Terror? Then, allow me to introduce you to the Reader's Digest-league philosophical musings of America's friendliest FASCIST NEOCON: Sam Harris.

I shall return shortly with Part Two of this series, in which I shall share with you some musings on the scary, militaristic, neoconservative, pseudo-scientific, new-agey, historically illiterate, racist ideology that one Sam Harris espouses.

* Certainly the only coinage for which I shall remain forever grateful for the existence of Christopher Hitchens.

Jimmy Fallon isn't funny. (In my opinion.)

Chicago rock/pop band National Tryst covers the Christmas favorite '(Walking In A) Winter Wonderland'

The declining political currency of outrage,Part II: Is the media literacy of younger generations obviating the culture wars?

This post proceeds from the spot at which Part I left off. Contrasting his persona and rhetoric with that of President-elect Obama, I characterized Former President Bill Clinton as follows:

Clinton demonized his enemies and inflated the scurrilousness of their charges and tactics, in effect shoring up support from 'his side', but simultaneously enraging and radicalizing his opposition. ... People sided with Clinton because he was needy of our attention and our love; he needed us to prop him up against the mean bullies who were out to get him.

Clinton's presidency coincided with eight years of particularly cacophonous culture-war waging: the far-Right devoted itself to fighting and re-fighting ad nauseum the same perceived 'social'-political battles that were seen to have sprouted during the oh-so-turbulent late 1960's and early 1970's. The battle lines were drawn not around the big issues of the period -- Vietnam, the Draft, the incendiary fretwork of Jerry Garcia -- but around some fairly slight stuff like whether or not the sexual mores portrayed in prime time television programming reflect those of everyday Joes in the Heartland. (A textbook opportunity for Heartland outrage, considering that any such television show enjoys high ratings specifically because millions of viewers in the Heartland tune in week after week, whether they're honest about it or not.) This has been the dominant cultural divide of the past thirty years; not coincidentally, it centers almost exclusively on the opinions, values and resentments of Baby Boomers, in relation to those of other Baby Boomers. The rest of us were mere spectators.

The duration of Clinton's two terms was a period during which the far-Right sated its appetite for pandering to, fueling and masterminding the direction of a host of 'anti-elite' resentments. This masterminding of direction was accomplished not only in the service of galvanizing political support, but in making loads of money. Rush Limbaugh's barely occluded racism, anti-semitism and general bigotry were pilfered from Father Coughlin's bag o' tricks. But what's most shocking of all is the amount of money the fat douche has been able to make by yelling into a microphone at millions of other fat douches.*

William Jefferson Clinton was the perfect focal point for this good-old-boy outrage, in no small part because he already in fact was an outrageous figure, every bit as invested in dusting off and utilizing the codes, metaphors and assumptions of the 1960's culture wars as was Limbaugh. Clinton practiced the politics of division every bit as shrewdly as Karl Rove would do subsequently, especially when he managed to assemble the coalition that handed George W. Bush the second term that he unquestionably didn't deserve. Clinton knew how to rally his coalition to his side; he knew how to draw people in. His travails became ours.

Enter many of the tropes, habits and labels of contemporary campaigning in our heavily (basically: psychotically) mediated lives. Entertainment and news are difficult for the common man (of which there is one somewhere inside all of us, lest you think I'm being elitist [although, I guess I sort of am, but indulge me]) to distinguish from one another.

In Part I, we talked about a form of political theater that uses outrage as its jet fuel: taking umbrage. What a useful tool! We describe the media circus between the Clinton Administration and the Right in terms of lobbing accusations and insults back and forth. But the culture wars wouldn't have gotten under our skin were it simply about slamming the other guy. In contradistinction to the NBA, playing offense is itself not a good enough spectacle. I mean, attacks are exciting, but as they escalate, they become increasingly unmemorable. They blend together. After all, as outrageous as they might be, they're still just words. And if you're going to have a war of words, you may as well have it over policy issues, because words are going to bore people anyway. And debating policy issues is no good for national politics; it turns too many people off.

So it's not about offense but defense. The culture wars of the 1990's got under our skin because we identified with the participants. We took sides. We were divided up into two teams. We lived vicariously through personalities. Bill Clinton was a stand-in for you. He was on your side, advocating for you; honoring your memory and experience, and your belief in the unwavering moral imperatives that your experience taught you to hold dear. On the Right, there were a succession of demagogic good-old-boys to identify with, including politicians like Newt Gingrich and proliferating numbers of ideological profiteers who took a cue from Rush, and began yelling their outrage into microphones for some fast cash.

We observed in Part I that President-elect Barack Obama has a tremendous knack for staring-down and -- in effect -- minimizing ludicrous character attacks. This has the further effect of making the person who utters the attacks look like he is about two feet tall. It's an exhilarating part of Obama's appeal -- and one for which the Zeitgeist could not be more receptive -- that he is an adult. I would add that it is by striking this chord of responsible, intelligent (even cerebral), savvy and -- let's face it -- exceedingly cool adult-ness that Obama stands to unite the country. United in the very real sense that a majority of the country (by a mind-bendingly substantial margin) wants a leader with these very qualities.

I know what you're thinking. What's all this hippie bullshit about 'uniting the country'? You don't actually believe that stuff, do you? The answer is that I do believe it, but maybe not in the way that triggered your incredulity mechanism. What I mean is that when Obama speaks in a language that addresses rhetorically the entire nation, he is in effect -- and to precisely the extent to which his rhetoric is successful at performing this feat of unification -- uniting the country.

By contrast, Bill Clinton and George W. Bush -- both of them Baby Boomers -- were culture warriors, each of whom therefore (by definition) thrived on a rhetorical model that to a lesser or greater extent, pitted one population against another. It's possible that there'd have been no other way in which a Baby Boomer could govern (or, perhaps: no other way in which a Baby Boomer Democrat could govern and/or win an election). It's even more certain that both men are products of their time: that there's something about their personalities, certain (and contrasting) forms of Doublespeak, certain (and contrasting) forms of smugness that are in part generational timestamps. I guess the word would be immaturity.

Both Clinton and Bush are juvenile figures in exactly the sense that Obama is an adult figure. As we've discussed, as a candidate, Obama stared down the sophomoric slime-balling, whisper campaigns, race-baiting and neo-McCarthyist tactics of the McCain/Palin campaign, making their attacks them look like puny spit-balls, thrown by tiny, desperate and mediocre men. Which is exactly what they were. Both Bush and especially Clinton had talent for doing precisely the opposite: taking small problems and made them big. Each constituency identified with 'his struggle' because each constituency identified with its guy and what he 'stood for'.

Each president's constituency was united more or less by the common experience of having lived through the late 60's/early 70's cultural-political climate; a climate that was mediated in an unprecedented way and to an unprecedented extent. And that period of skyrocketing media- and advertising-saturation was distinguished by -- as much as anything else -- the magnification/amplification of small, inconsequential, abstruse and even fictitious phenomena. And, to an unprecedented extent, instantaneously! This was the period of Bush's and Clinton's halcyon youth. These phenomena are what the culture wars are all about: fashion, lifestyle, taste.

By the way, I'm not saying that this historical fact is good or bad; I'm just drawing our attention to it. I mean, an inarguable example of this explosion of commercial media is also something that is unarguably good: The Beatles, for instance. Its sudden popularity and huge influence hinged entirely on some hype and one appearance on one television show.

Media have changed. We docile consumers have too. Can you even imagine a 2008-equivalent to a phenomenon like The Beatles? Although, I suppose it was equally unimaginable in the early 1960's.

Obama grew up at a time during which people had already become acclimated to television and radio. He is a member of the post-Baby Boomer generations, in which all of us are, to a lesser or greater degree, habitually savvy media critics. Watch video footage some time of Tricky Dick Nixon. It's not -- I don't think -- merely the benefit of hindsight that makes him such an obvious phony. It's that we know instinctively how to read media; we're equipped with conceptual tools and interpretive devices that simply could not have been available to the vast majority of Boomers. Is it any surprise that so many people from that generation and older fell for George W. Bush's ludicrous I'm-from-Texas routine? Or that slime ball neocons were able to manufacture a groundswell of support for the Iraq War out of a combination of half-truths, Doublespeak, fear tactics and 'patriotism' talk?

Among all of the voters who participated in the presidential election of 2008, the only so-called demographic of which a majority supported John McCain was white people over the age of 65. The generations that fall under that heading are going to hold on tight and continue voting for the duration of old age. They're likely to become really really old, too. They have most of the money, they have huge numbers, and they represent myriad special interests to which elected leaders will continue to be beholden. Try as they might, they probably don't have the best interest of younger generations in mind.

The way to curtail their power is to continue making progress on what was started with the Obama's electoral and popular majority. How much do you want to bet that the divide will over time cease to be cultural and will become generational. That means that if we're smart, we can continue electing candidates cut from the same cloth as Obama. Candidates that resist and even condemn demagogy, that speak plainly, practically and in a manner that respects the electorate.

If the Republicans continue confining themselves to the backward, resentful, provincial niche they have carved out for themselves, the Democrats have a real opportunity for continued dominance. Now that we've seen that it can work, the new Democratic coalition can only become stronger. If the Republicans wise up and drop their weirdo social conservatism/pro-racism platform, it might save their party, but it would do so in a way that -- we can hope -- has a chance of pulling the country back from the dangerous precipice upon which it currently finds itself perched.

If voters continue to send a message that they won't fall for totalitarian, neo-McCarthyist, fear-mongering shenanigans, then politicians will respond by getting in line. We need to keep demanding that the Constitution be respected and not distorted, that the Bill of Rights is not negotiable in times of 'war', that we won't stand for declarations of war against vaguely defined enemies, with no discernible objectives. In other words, if younger generations hold firm to their media literacy, the message it sends to politicians is clear: don't fuck with us, Old Man. Don't fuck with our rights.

(Heh heh heh.... I think I just had to get that out of my system. Which is, after all, the point of having a blog.....Don't mind me....)


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* For the benefit of readers uninitiated to urban slang: the term "douche" is here used as an abbreviation for "douche-bag."

Did populism collapse the house that WFB built?Some thoughts as to the wheres, hows, whens & wherefores.

I. The "Palin farce" & Republican populism.

An article that should be required reading for the George Wills of the world appears in today's Wall Street Journal (which I spotted by way of Media Nation). Penned by a certain Mark Lilla, it's one of the bitter pills that I'd advise self-respecting Republicans to swallow:

The Palin farce is already the stuff of legend. For a generation at least it is sure to keep presidential historians and late-night comedians in gainful employment, which is no small thing. But it would be a pity if laughter drowned out serious reflection about this bizarre episode. As Jane Mayer reported recently in the New Yorker ("The Insiders," Oct. 27, 2008), John McCain's choice was not a fluke, or a senior moment, or an act of desperation. It was the result of a long campaign by influential conservative intellectuals to find a young, populist leader to whom they might hitch their wagons in the future.

And not just any intellectuals. It was the editors of National Review and the Weekly Standard, magazines that present themselves as heirs to the sophisticated conservatism of William F. Buckley and the bookish seriousness of the New York neoconservatives. ...

... So what happened? How, 30 years later, could younger conservative intellectuals promote a candidate like Sarah Palin, whose ignorance, provinciality and populist demagoguery represent everything older conservative thinkers once stood against? It's a sad tale that began in the '80s, when leading conservatives frustrated with the left-leaning press and university establishment began to speak of an "adversary culture of intellectuals." It was a phrase borrowed from the great literary critic Lionel Trilling, who used it to describe the disquiet at the heart of liberal societies. Now the idea was taken up and distorted by angry conservatives who saw adversaries everywhere and decided to cast their lot with "ordinary Americans" whom they hardly knew. In 1976 Irving Kristol publicly worried that "populist paranoia" was "subverting the very institutions and authorities that the democratic republic laboriously creates for the purpose of orderly self-government." But by the mid-'80s, he was telling readers of this newspaper that the "common sense" of ordinary Americans on matters like crime and education had been betrayed by "our disoriented elites," which is why "so many people -- and I include myself among them -- who would ordinarily worry about a populist upsurge find themselves so sympathetic to this new populism."

The die was cast. Over the next 25 years there grew up a new generation of conservative writers who cultivated none of their elders' intellectual virtues -- indeed, who saw themselves as counter-intellectuals. Most are well-educated and many have attended Ivy League universities; in fact, one of the masterminds of the Palin nomination was once a Harvard professor. But their function within the conservative movement is no longer to educate and ennoble a populist political tendency, it is to defend that tendency against the supposedly monolithic and uniformly hostile educated classes. They mock the advice of Nobel Prize-winning economists and praise the financial acumen of plumbers and builders. They ridicule ambassadors and diplomats while promoting jingoistic journalists who have never lived abroad and speak no foreign languages. And with the rise of shock radio and television, they have found a large, popular audience that eagerly absorbs their contempt for intellectual elites. They hoped to shape that audience, but the truth is that their audience has now shaped them.

... Back in the '70s, conservative intellectuals loved to talk about "radical chic," the well-known tendency of educated, often wealthy liberals to project their political fantasies onto brutal revolutionaries and street thugs, and romanticize their "struggles." But "populist chic" is just the inversion of "radical chic," and is no less absurd, comical or ominous. Traditional conservatives were always suspicious of populism, and they were right to be. They saw elites as a fact of political life, even of democratic life. What matters in democracy is that those elites acquire their positions through talent and experience, and that they be educated to serve the public good. ...

The article has something to say, namely that any portion of the educated Right should know better than to keep mum when a force like Sarah Palin is unleashed upon us, in the name of conservatism. And secondly, any conservative that should have known better but didn't, and who therefore didn't condemn Palin should now be ashamed of himself. (He -- predictably -- isn't). They should also be embarrassed. If they're not, then it's their loss, not the Left's. The less equipped these Palin-apologists are to spot the myriad internal contradictions in which the GOP identity is mired, the more likely it is that the USA can continue electing actual adults to national office.

II. However.

Not so sure I'm ready to buy into the premise that it wasn't until the 1980's that the Republican Party started playing the 'populist' (in both the euphemistic and straightforward senses) card. Or that it somehow wasn't until that shiny-chrome decade that the movement realized that, if it were to survive, it needed to appeal to racists and bigots. True, that commie-hating, loony-toony apologist for extremism Barry Goldwater failed to create an effective political alliance combining Northern industrialists with Southern segregationists. But it wasn't for lack of trying! His mistake? Perhaps he was a bit too forthright in his trigger-happy xenophobic militarist extremism?

III. How 'bout let's just say "the silent majority," wink wink?

Richard "Tricky Dick" Nixon, et al., perfected the much-ballyhooed 'Southern Strategy' in 1968. This maneuver capitalized on the widespread Southern opposition to Lyndon Johnson's having masterminded the passage of the Civil Rights Act. The Southern Strategy is an object lesson in Machiavellianism that the GOP milked for all (and I mean all) that the once-venerable, nominal "Party of Lincoln" could. And while I'm not aware that Nixon was specifically hateful toward black people, Tricky Dick earned his very nickname as a consequence of his use of bald-faced lies, smear-campaigns and McCarthyism in order to get elected to the House of Representatives. And, let's face it, everybody knows that Nixon was anti-semitic (a prejudice that then as now appears to walk hand-in-hand with pandering to the militarist far-Right fringe of the Zionist Movement, perpetuating dishonestly and dangerously a reprehensible ideology that equates 'good' Judaism with radical-Right-wing Zionism [See also: Hagee, John, John McCain's onetime anti-Catholic, anti-semitic pastor. See also: Kristol, William]).

Obviously, where Nixon benefited from the strategy electorally (with the exception of getting his ass handed to him by Jack Kennedy), it was with eight years of Ronald Reagan that the Goldwater Republicans could finally take their hatchet (the one that another Arizona politician, John McCain apparently inherited from them) to the public infrastructure, dismantling it limb from limb. Americans who so much as noticed -- it was, after all, the Spielberg 1980's -- greeted this carnage with either approval or indifference.

As impressively cynical a feat as Reaganomics turned out to be, perhaps even more striking was the unlikely election of George Herbert Walker Bush to the White House. People sometimes refer to Bush Senior's administration as the "Third Reagan Term." Uh...fair enough. But anyone who really wants to understand how the elder Bush managed to get elected had better come to grips with the singular, twisted genius of Lee Atwater. About whom: be sure to catch this documentary, which aired recently on PBS and will no doubt show up as a rerun in the near-future. Maybe Atwater was no Joseph Goebbels or Leni Riefenstahl. He was a Karl Rove, only times infinity.

Whereas Karl Rove's talent in the area of fascistic disinformation-peddling is damn impressive -- even if it may now look rather quaint, now that it's failed miserably in 2006 and especially 2008 --, Atwater was a natural where Rove is a tables-and-figures man. Atwater was a blues-guitar-playing (literally) opportunist who made a deal with the Devil -- and paid for it dearly. Rove is an Adolf Eichmann-figure. Savvier and more clever than Eichmann, of course. But possessing precisely the deficient capacities for reflection and critical thinking for which history has fated that Eichmann shall forever stand as a one-man morality play.

IV. Lee Atwater & the election of 1988.

Anyway (what's a blog if it doesn't veer off onto wild tangents?): Atwater cobbled together a presidential campaign -- that is, that of Bush Senior, in case we've forgotten -- whose unlikely success was fueled by the mere exhaust fumes of decades of slow-burning resentments and fears. Pure Southern Strategy, straight out of the Nixon playbook. Except in a way that plumbed new depths of dishonesty, race-baiting, demagoguery, shamelessness, and -- most importantly -- the whole discourse it imposed upon the presidential race was pure theater.

Unlike Nixon, who was promising, in effect, "law and order" to Southern and suburban whites who were scared of the rebellion of black nationalists and civil rights demonstrators, unlike Reagan, who lowered taxes, Bush Senior wasn't offering anything serious in return for handing him your vote. The Atwater strategy of playing upon accumulated conscious- and subconscious racism, xenophobia, neo-McCarthyism, anti-intellectualism and anti-elitism was nothing but manipulation that had previously been the province of beer commercials. It was all just to (1) slime the other guy and (2) scorch, as it were, the earth underneath the election such that many people became so turned off by the tactics and rhetoric that they (a.) failed to look closely enough to see that it was all being generated by one side (the GOP), and (b.) therefore didn't bother to vote. And they didn't. That's it. It was shameful and mendacious and mean-spirited even by the standards of the McCain campaign.

V. Back to Buckley: forgive him not for his McCarthyist high jinks.

Ever seen the video footage, shot during the political conventions of 1968 in which William F. Buckley offers to smack Gore Vidal in the face, calling him a 'fucking queer' (or something like that)? Which...to give Buckley his due, was not an inaccurate statement. It wasn't, nevertheless, all that relevant to the discussion at hand, which was the Vietnam War. (I'm not even sure that it rises to the status of ad hominem. Sorry, if that's harsh, Bill; may you rest in peace.)

Sure, our few remaining thoughtful conservatives here in the Year of Our Lord Two-Thousand and Eight have every reason to light a candle in gratitude to Buckley when attending high mass. Not so much for leaving them with The National Review, whose quality has plummeted at an astonishing rate since the exceedingly stupid Rich Lowry took the helm. (Rich Lowry is an idiot. In case I wasn't being clear about that.) No, these remaining thoughtful conservatives should venerate their forefather for his well-calculated move of severing the overt ties of the conservative movement to anti-semitism and the John Birch Society. But let's not forget that this same Bill Buckley was a huge supporter of Joseph McCarthy, that he embraced Jim Crow.

VI. Conclusion

In other words, I'll allow that the 1980's saw the anti-intellectual and anti-'elite' streak beginning to gobble up the Republican Party, such that this strain has now come to define the GOP in its totality. But don't let it off the hook that easily. Buckley and the early neocons, etc., may have been intellectuals, but they were also strategists, and cashing in on resentments -- particularly the Southern varieties -- was always a matter of chief concern.

Great article on Obama's "Fake Transparency"

The Obama transition team has announced its plans to release on the Internet a weekly video address in which soon-to-be President Obama will communicate directly to we citizens. In a press release, it claims that this will, in effect, "make the White House and the political process more transparent."

Not so, says Slate's political reporter and columnist John Dickerson, who points out that "snazzy new technology" alone won't be "enough to bring transparency to the White House." His tough but fair-minded (by which I mean, of course, soberly pro-Obama...) assessment of things seems fairly dead-on-the-money:

During the campaign Obama was transparent—but only up to a point. Unlike previous candidates, he released the names of fundraisers who raised big chunks of bundled donations, a move not required by law. But he stopped short of declaring the precise amounts and affiliations. When it came to releasing the names of his small-dollar donors, his campaign used technology as an excuse rather than as a tool to increase transparency. One of the big acts of technological transparency during his campaign was inadvertent, when it was discovered that his Web site language had been changed to remove criticism of the troop surge in Iraq.

Personally, Obama has grown more opaque about his thoughts. As a journalist I get vertigo thinking about how great it would be to hear Obama talk as openly and honestly about his views as he did in this 2004 interview about his religion that was released this week. That he no longer talks this freely is undoubtedly part of the reason he won. I don't see any sign that he's going to change his behavior, and I'm not sure he should. If the press is going to sound-bite a president to death, why should he open up too much?

Obama will show he is transparent not by delivering his message in some new way but by conveying actual information. He's got to tell the truth, yes, but he's also got to have something to say. His most powerful statements during the campaign were not conveyed through an Ethernet cable but from a stage, alone, with a microphone, the way it has been done for 100 years. If the promise of transparency and candor never arrives but the hype continues, his campaign will have produced the political equivalent of vaporware.

The declining political currency of outrage,Part I: The Taking of Umbrage

For the duration of the recent -- for a while, seemingly interminable -- election season, the day-to-day coverage of the cable news-ish punditocracy was dominated by discussion and analysis of a blow-by-blow succession of statements, gestures and reactions, usually embodied by the candidates themselves, whether on 'the stump' or in a television studio, and sometimes simply written-up in a press release in rapid-fire fashion.

Some examples. Criticisms and denunciations: 'Senator McCain strongly criticized Senator Obama for his tax plan, ridiculing it as "socialism"'; 'Senator Obama's campaign shortly thereafter fired back, releasing a statement denouncing Senator McCain's allegations as "more smear tactics from the Karl Rove playbook.'" And, of course, the 'gaffes', the 'favorability ratings', 'raised questions about', etc. That kind of thing.

My favorite of these gestures, by a landslide, was umbrage-taking. It was at once among the most frequently cited gestures on the campaign trail and easily the most ill-defined. It often seemed simply to be imaginary. You were never quite sure who it was who was taking the umbrage, and on whose behalf. Nobody ever announces himself as having 'taken umbrage'. He just takes it!

In fact, it almost has more to do with what you don't do than with what you do, in fact, do. After The New Yorker ran its inscrutable cover portraying Senator and Mrs. Obama as black-power activists/terrorists/Muslims/whatever -- and by the way, re that cover: yes, of course we 'got' that it was an attempt at parody...the trouble is that that's not the same as it actually being funny -- Obama's campaign released a statement denouncing the cover as being in poor taste. But the denunciation was worded vaguely, if with all requisite rhetorical passion. And Obama himself didn't seem to personally care all that much about it, soon thereafter going on the record saying that it wasn't really a big deal.

This is leading me to a couple of points which foreshadow the meatier portions of this discussion (which will follow when I post Part Two):

Despite the near-constant perceived and actual taking of umbrage that occurred throughout the campaign, neither McCain nor Obama were all that convincing about it. It's almost like they were going through the motions. I think that in McCain's case it was unconvincing because he was bullshitting us, and McCain -- despite having tried repeatedly to the point of embarrassing himself and everyone else during his weird campaign -- has never been a good bullshitter. By contrast, in Obama's case, I think that the minimizing of umbrage-taking was part and parcel of the political and rhetorical values on which his campaign was based.

It's not that Obama undertook so lofty and impractical a goal as to transcend the tit-for-tat politics of ridiculing the other guy and taking umbrage when he tries to ridicule you. If you think that either Obama's campaign or his nascent administration contains so much as a speck of the impractical, you're ignoring all available evidence. No: the aspirational aspect of Obama, his espousal of our nation's founding principles and his articulation of the dream of achieving better future, this is not pie-in the sky idealism. Rather, it represents specifically the undercutting of the assumed and unquestioned antimonies between our capacities and our ideals.

One of the practical methods by which Obama undercuts these polarities is encapsulated in my final observation in this post: the difference between Obama's style of umbrage-taking and that of Former President Bill Clinton.* Clinton's style was to make his critics look bigger and meaner and more sinister than they already were**, in effect garnering the sympathy and support of the electorate, or anyway of the slight majority of it that was in his camp.

Clinton demonized his enemies and inflated the scurrilousness of their charges and tactics, in effect shoring up support from 'his side', but simultaneously enraging and radicalizing his opposition. Obama's style is exactly the opposite. He deflates the scurrilousness embedded intentionally in the rhetorical excesses of his opposition (of which, lest we forget, there was tons of the most reprehensible and even dangerous sort imaginable). Instead of demonizing his opposition, he stares it down, as though the would-be demon is revealed to be nothing more than shadows in the bedroom of a child afraid of the dark.

People sided with Clinton because he was needy of our attention and our love; he needed us to prop him up against the mean bullies who were out to get him. People side with Obama precisely because he doesn't need a babysitter to watch over him. We are drawn to him not because he needs us, but because we need him. And when it comes down to it (and part of Obama's brilliance is that he recognizes this even when many of us fail to), we don't need him because he's Barack Obama.

We need him because he's an adult.

Think that's small beans? Not if you consider that the last three decades -- and, arguably, the last half century -- has placed us under the leadership of whiny, needy children.

In comparison to Reagan, Bush Senior, Clinton and Bush Junior, Barack Obama is not only an adult, but he is a paragon of practicality. Think about it. How many things can you name that are more juvenile, more pie-in-the-sky/fantasy than:

• "Star Wars" (aka: Strategic Defense Initiative)
• "trickle-down economics,"
• "a thousand points of light,"
• "the era of big government is over,"
• "government is not the solution to our problem; government is the problem,"
• "Ownership Society,"
• "Mission Accomplished,"
• "The British government has learned that Saddam Hussein recently sought significant quantities of uranium from Africa."
• "Brownie, you're doing a heck of a job,"
• "No one anticipated the breach of the levies,"
• "We do not torture"....

.... ??

I rest my case. Part Two of this item, coming up.



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* And actually, during the primary, Hillary perfected a style of umbrage-taking that was -- adjusted for constituency, gender and political climate -- taken straight from of her husband's playbook.

** Although, to be fair, among many of his critics, certain GOP gadflies and thugs, Clinton's characterizations of them proved prophetic and even tame. Ken Starr, for instance. What a weaselly little motherfucker that slight, puffed-up specimen of grandiose Bible-Belt foppery turned out to be!

Filmaker Eugene Jarecki, author of The American Way of War: Tavis Smiley interview

Tavis Smiley interview with filmmaker Eugene Jarecki, who directed, among other things, The Trials of Henry Kissinger.

Jarecki's book, titled The American Way of War: Guided Missiles, Misguided Men, and a Republic in Peril, is a historical account of the United States military establishment, its accumulation of political and economic influence in the wake of World War II, and its relation to American foreign policy adventures, the drastically increased power of the Executive Branch and the curtailing of the civil liberties of American citizens.

I have no idea whether or not the book is any good, and it's not that Jarecki is necessarily the most articulate person in the world. What I like is that he is straightforward and unpretentious, and he describes clearly and succinctly the problems and and possible solutions. I believe that the possibility of political change emerging from a bottom-up movement hinges on whether or not you can explain to your aunt what's at stake in two short sentences. Jarecki speaks in a way that your aunt can understand (and yes, I'm bored out of my mind at work):

Tavis: And what I mean to get to is this -- we were talking about the Bush doctrine a moment ago; this whole notion of we strike first if we think you are going to do something to us -- we'll ask questions later on. There hasn't been, to my mind, at least, a whole lot of criticism of that. He got pretty much what he wanted from this Democratic Congress, so I've not seen -- there have not been hearings.

For all the complaining about George W. Bush and he's got to go and eight years is enough, there's not been a lot of talk, as you know, about this Bush doctrine and whether it's wrong for America. And the reason why that concerns me is because no president ever -- I can't think of a single president who wants to give back executive power.

If one executive grabs a hold to it, the next one surely is going to hold on to it. You see where I'm going with this?

Jarecki: You're asking an extremely important question, and I'll say for the record that my book looks at what the Bush administration did in a historical context. So to some extent, when you read the book, it's not a Bush-bashing book; it's a book that really says here's the Iraq war, and in fact a lot of it is new that happened but a lot of it is not so new.

Some of it is an extension of things that came before; a slippery slope that sort of started around World War II and has led us on this path to sort of permanent war making, the way we're finding ourselves. But at the same time, I have to say that the reforms that I seek, and the book talks about some of the reforms that I think are crucial, none of them can happen unless the Bush administration is held accountable for the crimes and wrongdoings and errors of the past eight years, and it is a moral failure in America that not more people are talking about that.

It's a moral failure that the church and that the general clerical community is not talking about it, and it's an obvious failure of Washington that Washington has so lost its moral compass that these kind of transgressions can happen, from torture to a misbegotten war, to people dying, people getting maimed, and we're sitting here not having those national conversations.

Tavis: So how do you scale back, then, from the creep that the Bush administration has essentially gotten away with, this notion of the Bush doctrine? If one president can get away with this -- we hit you first, we ask questions later -- why, with all due respect to Obama, why couldn't Obama or anybody after Obama -- again, nobody wants to give that up. So how do you reel that back in, is my question?

Jarecki: Sure. Well, I think it comes from --

Tavis: Can you put the genie back in the bottle?

Jarecki: I think you can, and it comes from you and me. And revolutions throughout history have put genies back in bottles. It would have seemed impossible to tell the colonists of America that they would triumph over the British empire and put that genie back in that bottle. It would have seemed impossible to tell the black South Africans that they would triumph over a system of apartheid; put that genie back in the bottle.

So the fact is this can be done, but it's never done, as you point out very astutely -- it's never done from the executive down. Change is not trickle-down; change is trickle-up. ...

Read the transcript or watch video.

I have like three or four posts of substance that are in progress. So, soon there'll be something more interesting upon which to feast your eyes.

Sound the Death-Knell for Dixie (Part Two):David Brooks discovers GOP racism for the first time.

I'm going to talk a bit more about the politics of resentment. My reason is this: I continue to be amazed as to how simultaneously correct and naive recent comments by conservative journalist David Brooks on the future trajectory of his party have been. Brooks has predicted, both in his New York Times column and in his frequent appearances alongside Mark Shields on The News Hour with Jim Lehrer -- and I'm paraphrasing here but not exaggerating --, that it will take ten to fifteen years for the Republican Party to get its shit together intellectually and politically. The subtext of his commentary is -- and it's not as though he needs to say it -- that the GOP is being taken over by the pro-Sarah Palin 'grassroots' and all but ditched by its traditional (rich, suburban, etc.) base.

The columnist, conveniently, has failed to mention his own frequent and cloying forays into GOP-styled populism. In other words, Brooks could be said to deserve at least some of the blame for ushering in the party's new era. True, he is no Rush Limbaugh and has never sought actively to recruit the rural, anti-cosmopolitan, anti-elite, anti-intellectual, racist cadre, whose seeming ascendancy he now bemoans.

In contrast to the inbred hooliganism of Limbaugh/Hannity, Brooks -- to appropriate a device that appears in the concluding paragraphs of one of his recent columns -- commits a sin of omission. Until recent weeks -- around the time of the McCain/Palin rallies in which the GOP 'salt of the earth'-faithful screamed death threats intended for Obama, passed around an 'Obama'-labeled stuffed monkey toy and other racist knick-knacks, and called Obama a "terrorist," a "socialist," a "Muslim," and someone who "doesn't love this country the way you and I do" (oh wait, that last one was said repeatedly by Sarah Palin herself) -- I have never once seen Brooks point out that the GOP's cultivation of a mean-spirited, anti-intellectual, anti-urban, anti-elitism sentiment was beginning to lead down a slippery slope, which everyone could see in plain sight. Nope. Despite his supposed 'moderate' conservatism, not a single column inch. No, it took the advent of angry, racist mobs, televised and YouTubed for all to see, for David Brooks to level with his readers and finally admit that Palin was a cynical selection, condescending to the voters and dangerous for the country and to the office of the presidency. What gives, David?

To be fair, let's remember that for the last decade, Brooks has probably been too distracted to sound a note of caution regarding the GOP's ongoing brain drain and its inevitable consequences. Over the two terms of Bush/Cheney, Brooks has had a lot of neoconservative and neoliberal agenda-pushing to get through-- often by stealth, which eats up even more of a busy columnist's day. After all, the man's schedule was already so taxing as to include things like

• disseminating neoconservative and neoliberal ideology by masking it as snarky-but-lovable pop-sociology;
  
• applauding middle America for its unrefined taste (in more than one book whose title includes the word 'paradise');*
  
• being sure to time his fully formed policy stances in such a way as to perpetuate the illusion that careful deliberation and the measured weighing-of-options precedes their articulation;
  
• kissing the asses of Catholic people, in effect if not by design, playing 'good cop' to William's (both Kristol and Bennett) 'bad cop' in the pushing of neoconservative foreign policy adventures and the continued scorched-earth defunding of the domestic public sector;
  
• lamenting the disappearance of 1950's middle-brow reading culture, and other (pre-Palin) instances of the shameless peddling of cheap nostalgia;
  
• and panegyrizing George W. Bush's "self-confident" and "committed," leadership of the Iraq War -- as recently as July 2007, while enthusing over Bush's "unconquerable faith in the rightness of his Big Idea."

Jeez, David: you've managed to express what all of us feel deep down in our hearts, but what none of us could find the words to say: the rightness of Bush's Big Idea! So that's wherein lies George W. Bush's secret; how he pulls off being such a great and beloved president!

Brooks never had a negative word to say about Bush's neo-McCarthyist electoral strategy. Nor did he bother to wince along with the rest of us thinking human beings as we watched Cheney, Rumsfeld, and their crack squad of war criminals falsify intelligence, engage in character assassination of any/all figures of opposition, and censor dissent in the run-up to the Iraq War.

But no matter. Brooks appears recently to have updated his appraisal of George W. Bush, right about the time (early October, 2008) at which he felt compelled finally to come out and admit that Sarah Palin is BAD NEWS. Brooks made the following remarks at an event sponsored by the Atlantic Monthly, on October 9, 2008:

[Palin] represents a fatal cancer to the Republican Party. When I first started in journalism, I worked at The National Review for Bill Buckley. And Buckley famously said he'd rather be ruled by the first 2,000 names in the Boston phone book than by the Harvard faculty. But he didn't think those were the only two options. He thought it was important to have people on the conservative side who celebrated ideas, who celebrated learning. And his whole life was based on that, and that was also true for a lot of the other conservatives in the Reagan era. Reagan had an immense faith in the power of ideas. But there has been a counter, more populist tradition, which is not only to scorn liberal ideas but to scorn ideas entirely. And I'm afraid that Sarah Palin has those prejudices. I think President Bush has those prejudices.

Brooks is none too pleased about what he calls -- euphemistically -- the 'populist' turn his party has taken. What he's describing is the Republican Party's descent -- encapsulated in the whiny and incoherent failure that was the McCain presidential campaign -- into a movement lacking entirely a vision of how to govern, in what way, and for what reason (and for that matter, whether or not governance should be dismantled entirely). In other words, it's turned -- decisively and demonstrably -- into a party that caters to resentments. And little -- if anything -- more than that.

As I remarked previously, the most recent example of this type of non-ideological, non-forward-looking politics that comes to mind is the phenomenon of the Dixiecrats, whose rhetorical dichotomies -- which are circumscribed as simple-mindedly as possible, in the interest of maximum versatility and in order to appeal to simple-minded people -- of local v. global, religious v. educated, upstanding v. immoral, are exactly the same dichotomies that McCain and especially Palin (or rather, her hard-Right/neocon Handlers) set out to tap into. What's interesting about this essential connection to Dixiecrat politics is that it's come -- in more ways than one -- full circle. I'll elaborate on this in a moment. (And this is subject to which I shall return in subsequent posts.)

You might ask: OK, Tom we've heard you sound off about the cultural politics of resentment and the GOP. And we get what you mean about the Dixiecrats: they were resentful of (1) the industrial/increasingly cosmopolitan North for everything from the Emancipation Proclamation to Reconstruction, LBJ and the Civil Rights Bill -- the latter being the last straw; (2) they hated black people and were resentful of any measure resulting in the shaking-up of the Southern caste system, particularly because measures that treated with dignity persons of color were seen as decreasing the status of poor whites. (Or whatever...those kinds of things.)

But, you ask, how does this example map onto the structure or modus operandi of the current Republican Party? I mean, we know that McCain's campaign -- particularly that shrill, none-too-bright woman who dressed to kill -- was speaking a coded -- and sometimes not-so-coded -- language of racism at rallies, and in advertising and propaganda. But, what resentments are the Republicans, specifically, tapping into?

Aha! I respond. That's just it: the great thing about resentment is that it doesn't need to be attached to something specific. This is what I was attempting to describe in a recent post, in which I pointed out that resentment is not an idea, but rather, a cluster of emotions, reactions and instinctive postures of self-preservation. And the laundry list of resentments -- particularly among rural, uneducated white voters -- to which McCain and Palin catered as -- eventually -- the exclusive centerpiece of their campaign needn't be pinned down in all that much detail in order for us to see objectively that it existed.

But just to demonstrate the extensiveness of this laundry list, let's try our hand at a thought experiment: let's just accept for the moment, arguendo, that I'm correct in saying that the racism that bubbled to the surface in dramatic fashion during the McCain/Palin rallies evidences the fact that there are lingering resentments among parts of the South (and rural north) connected straightforwardly to historical Southern secessionist and segregationist mentalities. Remember, there need only be a subconscious hint of this lingering attitude for my Dixiecrat thesis to have legs.

Now, let's take a step back and think of political attitudes that have developed more recently in the rural north and in the South (and perhaps, until this past election, in lower-middle-class [or extremely nouveau riche outer suburbs). Think of the decades of careful and well-funded Right wing inculcation and brainwashing that descended upon these areas. For instance, Rush Limbaugh, whose audience expanded considerably with the advent of the Clinton administration. More and more Limbaugh clones flood the AM airwaves across the fruited plains. Then comes Fox News. Then comes George W. Bush: even more divisive a figure, and even more than Clinton mired in the rhetoric, Doublespeak and umbrage-taking of the 1960's. (I will shortly be posting an item that fleshes out my thinking on the culture wars, particularly during the Clinton and Bush II administrations.)

Now: think of how simple a task it would be to attach myriad contemporary political issues to the coattails of these lingering resentments. Anyone among us can rattle off the obvious themes that map onto the basic structure: xenophobia, hatreds that often come along with especially ignorance saturated species of militarism, racism, reverse classism, resentment of the educated, various forms of anti-Semitism, suspicion toward people with credentials, distrust of people with accents, anti-feminism, fear of gays and lesbians, fear of gay marriage, disdain for people who are more educated than they are, disdain of academia generally (for its supposed 'liberalism'), disdain for 'mainstream media' generally (for their supposed 'liberalism'), and finally, much-stoked militant opposition to, quote-unquote, "activist judges," a specious concept in and of itself, and anyway, a concept which very few of those who fear it have any understanding at all.

So, basically, although it seems clear to me that the Dixiecrat political posture is the one that feeds Rightist populist rhetoric, the Republican Party can and does steer it in whatever direction it wants, in the service of any in a spectrum of ideological ends that has -- per se -- no material, cultural or political relationship to anything the Dixiecrats would have recognized or even comprehended. And -- despite Brooks's apparent surprise in noticing this -- the Republicans have been up to this for a long time.

So, among the poor and lower-middle-class racists whom McCain courted, the underlying resistance to Obama had to do with nothing more than the fact that he is black and has a funny name. But McCain's henchmen didn't need to say anything close to that, and they didn't need to THINK that in order to take political advantage of entrenched racist sentiment.

I had a history professor once who said -- cornily (but pithily) -- "there are no bad guys in history." There are no 'bad guys' in politics, either. There are just 'instinctive politicians', or 'tough politicians', or 'savvy strategists'. You see? The so-called 'elites' in the press have their own euphemisms, too; rhetoric that prevents the reporters themselves from having to think of it for the ugly thing it in fact is. How often have you heard 'mainstream media' praise Karl Rove for his

acumen at tapping into our nation's overflowing wellspring of religious- and racial-bigotry, and converting this bigotry into political capital.

See what I mean? Media inoculate themselves from harsh truths more rampantly than even voters do, and to a much greater extent than to which media inoculate their viewers. And Obama was an 'other'. That is all he needed to be, and strategically that's the only slight-of-hand McCain's people needed to pull off in order to court effectively the racist vote.

'We don't know about his history and background'. 'He needs to give the full story on his relationship with ACORN'. 'Why hasn't Mr. Obama come clean about the full extent of his relationship with domestic terrorist Bill Ayers, with whom, my friends, and let us make no mistake, Mr. Obama so dangerously pal-ed-around'. 'Barack Obama: too radical for America'. 'Barack Hussein Obama'. 'That One'.**

This racist side of the GOP is by no means new. Whatever the psychological tricks that David Brooks needs to play in order to convince himself that he was not a willing participant in the GOP's longstanding Deal with the Devil: tapping into the voting power of this angry mob. Sure, this mob is resentful (as it had been previously) of quote-unquote liberal ideas, espoused and propagated by the quote-unquote liberal media, and forced upon our children by quote-unquote liberal academe. But it's also resentful of ideas, resentful of media, and resentful of academe. AND IT HAS BEEN, ALL ALONG. Every bit as much as it has been racist all along.

In an upcoming post, I will continue to discuss the reasons why I feel Obama's victory might possibly mark the end of Dixiecrat politics. But just to give you a taste of the sweet elixir of victory, let's return to the dismayed David Brooks, in conversation with Mark Shields and Jim Lehrer on the November 7 broadcast of The News Hour with Jim Lehrer [emphasis is mine]:

JIM LEHRER: Both of you, first to you, Mark, end of this week, three days after the election, any lingering pieces of wisdom that you have not shared with us up until now, in other words, something that struck you that has not been said?

MARK SHIELDS: Just a couple of quick things, Jim. One is that the Republican Party is facing a real problem in those four western states of Colorado, Nevada, New Mexico, and Arizona. ... because the estrangement from the Latino community, which is a growing part of the electorate, and estrangement from westerners in general.

But the other thing is that the only age cohort in the entire electorate that John McCain carried were voters over the age of 65. Voters under the age of 30 voted 2 percent plus Democrat in 2000. They voted 12 percent plus Democrat in 2004 and by 35 percent in 2008. And you see it moving up the ladder to 30- to 44-year-olds, as well. So the formula I use is probably a little bit of an overstatement, but right now the Democrats, young Democrats, are moving from a room of their own to an apartment of their own hopefully to a home of their own, while Republicans are moving from their own home to the rest home to the funeral home. And...

JIM LEHRER: Oh, my.

MARK SHIELDS: And that's a problem for the Republicans.

DAVID BROOKS: Well, I guess I completely agree. If you're in a shrinking group, you're probably Republican. The growing groups are Democratic. The thing that strikes me -- and this has become a big debate, especially in the Democratic Party -- what sort of victory was it? Andy Kohut was on the program yesterday, said it was a victory for the middle. The middle asserted itself. That's how I read the returns, which suggests sort of a measured way ahead for Obama. Other people, however, say, no, it was a realigning election like 1980 with Reagan. It was a liberal victory. We should pursue a more liberal agenda, and interpreting that result has become a big debate.

JIM LEHRER: All right.

MARK SHIELDS: Oh, excuse me. Just one thing. Voters do want a more active government, a lot more than they did in 2000 and even 2004.

DAVID BROOKS: I disagree. But we'll get to that.

MARK SHIELDS: Well, those are the exit polls.

JIM LEHRER: Thank you, Mark. Thank you, David. ...

______________
* If the 2004 Plotz piece to which I have referred leaves you hungry for more fun at the expense of Brooks at his pandering worst, see these contemporaneous -- roughly speaking -- pieces by Nicholas von Hoffman (whose discussion of Brooks's tendency to flatter/legitimate the ignorance of the our country's vast uneducated populations is not dissimilar to the point I keep trying to articulate about the manipulative function of resentment in politics) and Michael Kinsley, from the latter of which I cannot resist quoting:

The Brooks sociological method has four components: fearless generalizing, clever coinage, jokes and shopping lists. ... Brooks defends his generalizations as poetic hyperbole ... When he says that a store in a suburban mall is ''barely visible because of the curvature of the earth,'' that is poetic hyperbole. When he claims that it is impossible to spend more than $20 for dinner in a Red Lobster, that is just wrong, and mystifyingly so. ... [T]he difference between sociology and shtick.
At the very least, Brooks does not let the sociology get in the way of the shtick, and he wields a mean shoehorn when he needs the theory to fit the joke. Among some of the formerly young, ''the energy that once went into sex and raving now goes into salads.'' O.K., that's funny. So is essentially the same joke a few pages later, when Brooks writes that ''bathroom tile is their cocaine.'' Except that now he's referring to a different one of his demographic slices, which undermines the claim to sociology. And when another joke surfaces three times, it undermines the shtick as well. The ''16-foot refrigerators with the through-the-door goat cheese and guacamole delivery systems''? Ha ha. A large Home Depot salesman ''looking like an S.U.V. in human form''? Ha ha ha. S.U.V.'s ''so big they look like the Louisiana Superdome on wheels''? Enough already.
''In America, it is acceptable to cut off any driver in a vehicle that costs a third more than yours. That's called democracy.'' True? Funny? Wouldn't the joke work just as well the other way? ''. . . a third less than yours. That's called capitalism.'' And if it works both ways as a joke, it must not work at all as a sociological insight.

These criticisms leveled against Brooks resonated in 2004, and -- comparatively-- this resonance has expanded by several orders of magnitude in November 2008. They underscore Brooks's tendency to be noncommittal, to equivocate and change his positions in a manner that smacks of tactical shifting. Plotz's discussion of Brooks's position(s) on the Iraq War -- which Brooks supported initially, along with many chatterers who were supposedly to his left, but more-or-less abandoned wishy-washily as a cause worthy of column inches when the issue became muddled and overcomplicated. These kinds of shifts, the tendency to evade personal accountability for having supported unambiguously a policy that ended up causing international chaos, the unprecedented scaling back of American civil liberties, the deaths of thousands of Americans and tens of thousands of Iraqis, conforms to the kind of neocon modus operandi with which we typically identify intellectually dishonest neoconservative charlatans like the unrepentant sniffer-of-Palin's-panties William Kristol, for whose Weekly Standard the nominally and temperamentally more moderate David Brooks did, after all, write, before landing his New York Times gig.

But beyond even Brooks's occasional proclivity for baffling fence-sitting: cultural politics have sure taken a turn for the toxic (to say the absolute least) since 2004, hasn't it? His veneration of the armies of red-blooded, poor, uneducated, simple-minded "Joe Six-Packs" strewn majestically across fly-over country looks pretty fucking naive -- not to mention hypocritical and even dangerous -- in the era of Sarah Palin's shrill racism- and hate-fueled brand of borderline-fascistic populism, no?

So: David, when exactly did stoking the flames of regressive, repressive, reactionary, xenophobic, 'Know-Nothing' and (let's face it, fundamentally anti-democratic) populism switch from being optimistic/patriotic to being "anti-intellectual"?

Also, in retrospect, it's too bad about the "Louisiana Superdome on wheels" line, no? I mean, it's simple bad luck, and I'm not going to pin it on him. But it's awfully poignant, ¿non?



** Heh. Look. The expression 'the other' has such a effete/academic sound to it. But, in establishing the use-value of this term as a means by which to describe identifiable, real-world phenomena, need we look any further than this weird-ass phrase that was uttered by McCain in reference to Obama at the second debate of the general election? You're not going to find a more obvious example of the othering of one's political opponent than this. I mean, it's not even 'that guy' or 'my opponent'. An entire human being, collapsed into the unadorned, monosyllabic 'one'. And not 'this one': 'that one'. Now, lest we get in over our heads in the amateur-psychology/cultural studies department, before we attach too much significance to the utterance of this mind-bending phrase, it is also important to keep in mind that John McCain is a babbling old coot.