The Plantation Strikes Back

Dr. Potomac detects new signs of unease, jumpiness and anxiety among the Democrats. House Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi (is there a more felicitous turn of phrase in the American political lexicon?) announced last week the formation of a taskforce to help Democrats learn how to communicate with the religious folk of the nation’s vast, red middle. And she chose to lead this effort –wait for it – Rep. Jim Clyburn. Now, Congressman Clyburn, is no doubt a very decent fellow. It is worth asking, however, if Clyburn is the answer, what was the question?

A la Karnac the Magnificent, Dr. Potomac holds the envelope to his forehead and sees..."How do we stop the seepage of older, culturally conservative African-Americans away from the Democratic party?" It has been noted that African-American voters converting to the GOP was an important factor in Ohio, the swingiest of swing states last year, where the President exceeded his already very respectable showing among African-Americans nationwide. Cultural questions are major factors here, with African-American pastors objecting strenuously to the gay marriage lobby’s efforts to coopt the African-American struggle for civil rights. People who faced down Bull Conner and were thrown out of segregated luncheon counters tend to be a little cranky with college-educated, dual-income same-sex yuppies drowning their resentments in double-skim lattes at the corner Starbucks. (Dr. Potomac further suspects that African-Americans will resist any effort to dilute the authority of their churches and pastors, long the only institutions and leaders that were fully “owned” by the community. As the sign on the African-American church in my neighborhood used to say -- before the neighborhood Blues objected and had the sign dismantled and removed over the pastor's objection -- “God created Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve.”)

One other factor may be at play here, and that’s the President's effort to open federal grant programs to faith-based and community organizations. After four years, increasing amounts of federal social services grant dollars are flowing into programs and projects directed toward small ministries many of which are headed by African-American clergy and community leaders. These organizations are gradually coming to understand the President really means it when he says he wants to help and wants to do it in a way that doesn't put their churches under a federal supervisor. Trust is slowly, incrementally being built between two social strata that haven't found much common cause to make over the past 40 years or so.

Sudden Thought

Have any of the libs come out with a storyline like, "Of course they voted in droves.  Iraq has a history of compulsory elections and many feared retribution from the provisional government or the Americans"??? 

You heard it here first:  someone with a serious case of Oppositionitis will do so before the week is out.

Oppositionitis: The Compassionate View of a Former Sufferer

First the election, then the inaugural festivities.  Dr. Potomac finally feels in fit enough shape to ply the blogging trade once again. 

He makes just one observation:  the Democrats have finally entered the terminal phase of oppositionitis, a disease with which he is directly and personally familiar.  It goes something like this:  you belong to a political party that has been consigned to a marginal position for a prolonged period.  In Dr. Potomac's case it was, how the Manolo would say, the Adminstration of the Clinton.  One is so deeply disturbed by the continuous flow of disagreeable policy decisions (say, mandatory child safety seats for everyone under the age of 23) that a certain unhinging occurs.  The next Democratic policy recommendation could be sainthood for Reagan or a commemorative resolution declaring apple pie delicious or, to update the phenomenon, a presidential address declaring that freedom is the natural condition of man.  Couldn't make the slightest difference what the proposal is, the other guy made it up and it is simply and genetically WRONG and requires a hyperbolic denunciation.  (Note:  Barbara Boxer [Empty Suit, CA] is the Typhoid Mary of Democratic oppositionitis.  When Saturday Night Live starts ridiculing a Democrat, he or she should know she's in deep trouble.)

Oppositionitis is an ugly and, worse, self-perpetuating problem.  It leads one to say patently absurd things and cause the public to look away in embarrassment.  It is extremism in 40-point font.  President Bush presses on with democracy for Iraq with what looks like rather fulsome support of the overwhelming majority of Iraqi citizens:  wrong.  Nominates the superb Condoleeza Rice for Secretary of State:  wrong.  Tries to pull the emergency brake on the upcoming Social Security trainwreck:  wrong.  Suggests that poor Americans might be better off owning rather than renting the American dream:  wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong, it has to be wrong because...George Bush said it.

The current state of Democratic politics is Newt Gingrich post-government shutdown.  Bill Clinton's intricate, lying presidency drove the GOP into advanced oppositionitis and the public consigned the Republican majority in Congress to the loony bin.  And now, dear, dear, Democrats, you've contracted the same disabling disease.  Let's assume for the sake of argument that George Bush is a drooling idiot.  Karl Rove, by consensus, is still the all-knowing, all-seeing superintendent of the asylum and not a word passes out of POTUS' mouth without having been thoroughly focus-grouped for maximum effect.  Even under their own Bush-is-an-idiot construct, what are the odds that the Democrats can oppose EVERYTHING without making a political error on enough of these items to damage themselves seriously?  Answer:  not good.  In fact, it probably means that GWB will slowly bury the opposition under a trickle of popular, common sense policy changes that are gradually reshaping American society.

Oppositionitis.  You heard it hear first.  It needs a disease group to advocate for research funding

So the great Dr. Curmudgeon Super Bowl War began. For two weeks the Style Editor and the Ombudsman will be locked in an epic struggle for football bragging rights with Doc and the Scooter. As much as it pains me to take a position against the Scooter, I am here to tell him crawl into the farthest corner of the house right now, little doggie, before the big, bad Eagles get you.

And I have this to say to the Doc, where's your all civilizing influence of classical music now?

P-A-T-S...Pats, Pats, Pats!

Fly, Eagles, Fly!

Hats off to the oldest altar boy in Britain and perhaps the world. He's been serving for 82 of his 89 years. Amazing.

Interesting yet unsurprising article in the Leader today. A Rochester, NH Espiscopal parish closes its doors after most of its parishoners leave en masse. Apparently the exodus has been going on for years. First they lost people because the Book of Common Prayer was changed. Then they lost more because of the introduction of female priests. Now the final nail in the coffin came with the Bishop Robinson consecration. Funny how we've all been told that these three things are signs of inclusion, positive change, and making the church relevant to modern life. Yet with "liberalization" entire clumps of people are alienated and find other churches. Midwest Conservative Journal is also on the case.

Interesting note via Relapsed Catholic ( via Metaphilm and the New York Times) about the odd but promising popularity of G. K. Chesterton with young people. Apparently the Chesterton show on EWTN, the Catholic cable station, is one of their big hits with kids. I dearly hope it is true.

I love (read: loathe) the language used in this story. Apparently one British school is abolishing homework for its 12 year old students.

Dr Hazlewood says he wants to make schooling more "relevant to life in the 21st century".

He wants to "get away from the imposition of homework, a product of 20th century education" and allow children to embrace their 21st century "learning journey".

Weeeeeeee! I'm on a learning journey!

They've also obliterated "subject learning" for something called "crosscurricular subjects."

But this one is the clincher:

Dr Hazlewood's radical approach is based on a scheme devised by the Royal Society of Arts (RSA), which rejects the notion that a teacher's job is to transmit a body of knowledge to pupils.

Teachers are not there to transmit knowledge, only to facilitate the students on their learning journey. Wake me up. I'm in a nightmare.

In other news, the inmates are now in charge of the asylum, and the foxes have taken over the hen house.

In today's Boston Globe, Matthew Gilbert complains that the Fox TV show "American Idol," which auditions thousands of people to become the next big pop singer, is cruel and exploitative. I suppose by answering this charge, and denying it to be true, I am admitting that I actually watch the show. But so be it. I have.

Says Gilbert:

As the judges laugh in the faces of vulnerable kids with clumped hair and pockmarked skin, they re-create the "Carrie"-esque nightmare of every freshman geek ever accused of having cooties. They are the rich and famous shaking their heads over the great unwashed, the haves chuckling about the have-nots.

But the "cooties" were imaginary; these people really have zero singing talent. They may be "have-nots," but that lack was delivered to them by nature, not by the "haves" who cruelly took it away from them.

I'm not sure "American Idol" can take responsibility for every dreamer who flocks to its cattle calls like pilgrims on a religious trek. And, in our high-gloss TV atmosphere, there is something quite welcome about Cowell's scathing honesty, even if the truth can hurt. But setting up clueless and desperate people for public shaming isn't the truth; it's exploitation. There's a line between taking cruel advantage of someone's feeble delusion and enjoying their foibles; in some cases, it's a fine line, but one that's clear to anyone with a heart.

If these thousands of contestants, who have watched the show for three years and clearly understand what happens, sign up for this task, how can we claim they are being exploited? Doesn't exploitation imply lack of knowledge or lack of alternatives? These people are willing customers, people often so self-deluded by confidence in their singing abilities (who are these tone-deaf friends and family who say they have talent?), that they are willing to take the risk of public humiliation to confirm it. When that dream pops with a Simon Cowell dismissal, you can't help but think, "they asked for it."

Is it heartless? I guess that depends how you view pretentious people. Americans tend to hate pretention, thinking you are something you are not and "taking on airs." This is probably why Idol is so popular. What's the difference between someone who thinks themselves superior because of birth, wealth, or lineage, and someone who thinks themselves supremely talented, uniquely gifted above the riff-raff? Both, when taken past their normal limits, strike most as unbecoming. Pride is excusable when combined with a degree of humility, thankfulness, and context. But when it becomes hubris and, when critiqued before the crowd, shown to be nonsense, it falls to the ground.

We shouldn't let our embarrassing national obesession with "self-esteem" get in the way of correcting pretention and false hope. Are they poor saps who deserve our pity (would they want that?), or poor saps who deserve a bracing splash of cold water to snap them out of their hubris. In my view, they need the splash: You are fooling yourself, you have no talent, and the longer you delude yourself the more painful the unfulfilled dreams will become. Thought of this way, the Cowell denial is an act of charity more than cruelty. Hard landings wake people up.

Sometimes.

Super Fantastic

Some have described the Manolo as an "an Italian flavored Damon Runyon of the fashion world,", or to use the Manolo's own idiom, the Manolo, he is super fantastic.

Now this is good social policy: Classical music is being piped into London Underground stations, and "yobbish behavior" has decreased by a third. Now correlation does not equal casuation, but I say push ahead and pipe it into the whole system. It is a civilizing enterprise.

But apparently it only plays at the ticket counters and waiting rooms, not the platforms. Says one LU manager, "We won't be linking this to platform speakers though - that's a captive audience and not everyone likes classical music."

To which I reply, too damn bad. Play it anyway.

This story is fantastic: In 1914, a boy throws a tennis ball off the walls of Lincoln Cathedral and it sticks in a crevice. It is still there, and his family visits the Cathedral every year to point it out. Now, worried that it will be dislodged by cleaners, they'd like it back. The ball (which was completely unnoticed by Cathedral keepers) may be one of the oldest tennis balls in the UK.

Since when is donning a particular outfit at a fancy dress party (read: costume party) equated with actually advocating the ideas or lifestyle of the outfit? So if I wear a Viking costume, I am advocating the pillaging of monastaries in villages around the North Sea? If I dress as Henry VIII, I am advocating the "stripping of the altars" (with apologies to the Style Editor, our very own Henry VIII)? If I dress as Louis XIV, I am an advocate of divine right monarchy? Something tells me the "Harry as Nazi" controversy has little to do with the costume, and much to do with dislike of the British monarchy. As Blithering Bunny rightly adds: Wear a Che T-shirt and you're cool. Wear a Hitler T-shirt and you're a fascist.

One to make the eyes roll: California 8th graders are told strip-tease is a great career option.

Hah! And Hah! again! The Ombudsman has awakened from a long winter's nap to find that he rocks!




Edward IV
You are loyal and down to earth. More than that, you are a hard-headed realist. You take the facts, and you go with them. You don't try to change what is, just like Edward IV, who never lost a battle, even when greatly outnumbered. You excel on your own mind and on your own heart. Keep your level head, and keep being aware. You rock!

Thank you, thank you, thank you verra much.

The Style Editor is distressed to learn she is Henry VIII. This is obviously a horrible and inaccurate quiz that discriminates against Protestants who think Tombstone is a rotten movie.

And really the monarchs they choose: Richard I, Edward IV, Henry VIII, Francis I, and Charles V. This is all the best they could do? I wouldn't take any of them home to meet the parents. They couldn't find any better ones?

At any rate as Henry VIII (I am, I am):



Henry VIII


You are impuslive (sic), temperamental, and autocratic. You make strong decisions based on your gut reactions. You are true to you friends, but if they betray you in the slightest way, then they're OUT. You like being in a monogamous relationship, but if you feel betrayed, you will tear apart the peson (sic) that hurt you. You are brilliant! But impulsive. Work on the impulsive streak, and continue being brilliant!

As evidence of my brilliance, I know how to use Spell Check. (Yes, yes, I'm also petty, but I did write a few lovely tunes.)

Have you taken the What Monarch are you quiz? Well, apparently I am King Charles V:

You are a mastermind. Sinister? No. Disconnected from humanity at times? Occasionally. But, you look out for you and yours by making alliances and by keeping quiet and striking when it's time. Try and be more humane. Don't dumb yourself down, but be sure and employ the empathy emotion more often so that you don't lose touch.

Humane? Empathy? Why don't you buzz off.

Lovely stinging article about "dressing down" in the latest Spectator. Makes me feel a bit guilty for even owning a pair of jeans and polo shirts.

There used to be such a thing as a sense of occasion, and those participating in the occasion — whether it be a night at the opera or an invitation to dinner or to a religious ceremony — would avoid insulting their hosts or diminishing the event itself by not turning up for it dressed as if for an afternoon in the garden or at the dog track. That now seems to have gone by the board. Formality at recreational occasions is regarded as utterly absurd; and, indeed, conservatism of dress in the workplace is now increasingly frowned upon, as indicating a range of unsavoury attitudes including a hidebound mentality, political incorrectness and class-consciousness.

If it means I'll be frowned upon, then I'll definitely begin dressing up. Life's all about making the right enemies, isn't it?

Because our eyes occasionally hop to matters across the Pond or perhaps because we're Wodehouse fans, kind readers occasionally designate Dr. Curmudgeon and Company as a "mid Atlantic" blog. We've slipped a bit lately in this rating, so I turn my eye to the other side of the Atlantic and I see not the current Blair/Brown brouhaha, or the sad decline of Marks and Spencer, but..yes.. the Eglu.

In France, they wanted a chicken in every pot. In England, they want a chicken in every yard. But chicken housing has gotten very high tech these days. The Eglu is the iMac of chicken housing. Colorful, stylish and modular, it makes one think well of chickens, which is a new experience for Style Editor who has always viewed chickens as utilitarian embodiments of evil.

I urge The Countryside Alliance to push along the Eglu in any way they can. The more chickens kept in suburban yards, the more chickens killed by foxes, the more people realize perhaps that foxes are in fact a problem. It's hard for an eight year old to love a fox when it has killed Mrs. Clucky.

And for those of us over here, do not despair. The Eglu is coming to America.

Suffering through Living? Avoid the Netherlands

Weblog over at Christianity Today has a chilling story on the whacked out progress of euthanasia in the Netherlands. Besides the mere expected monumental abuses, like euthanizing infants, the Dutch have also decided that:

"Doctors can help patients who ask for help to die even though they may not be ill but 'suffering through living,' concludes a three year inquiry commissioned by the Royal Dutch Medical Association," the British Medical Journal reports today.


The report comes a year after physician Philip Sutorius had his criminal conviction appeal rejected by the Dutch Supreme Court. In 1998 Sutorius performed an "assisted suicide" on politician Edward Brongersma, who had no major disease other than feeling his existence was "pointless and empty." Being "tired of life" is no grounds for death, Dutch courts said, but Sutorius was not punished since he showed "concern for his patient."


The current situation, then, is murky. The Dutch Supreme Court ruled in 2002 that patients must have a "classifiable physical or mental condition" to be killed, but the country's euthanasia law only says the person must be "suffering hopelessly and unbearably."


Jos Dijkhuis, who led the Royal Dutch Medical Association inquiry, says patients merely "tired of life" shouldn't be granted physician-assisted suicide, but that doctors alone should be allowed to decide whether patients' "suffering through living" is severe enough for death.

As Weblog wittily notes: Slippery-slope arguments are often faulty, but the Royal Dutch Medical Association seems to be going out of its way to demonstrate that such slopes really do exist.

What will pose a particular morbid fascination for the Style Editor is to see how this all goes down in this era of separate realities/truths. Having lost any belief in or adherence to an absolute truth, the case will soon arise when a doctor sees a patient as “suffering through living” but the patient doesn’t.

Well, such would have been interesting case if the Dutch Supreme Court were a court of law rather than a court of feeling. After all I’m sure the murdering doctor will have shown “concern” for the patient, if only in the witness box, which seems to be the only factor about which the Dutch Supreme Court really cares. Yes indeed, if you care that what ever you do must be good, because the heart of course can never lie. Strewth. And people thought the Twinkie defense was an all time low in defense strategies.

I counsel all Dr. Curmudgeon readers who happen to be visiting the Netherlands to cast off their usual curmudgeonly aspect and to appear downright jovial lest someone decide you're suffering through living.

But before we become too cocky about the Dutch, 80% of the people in Vermont think euthanasia is just peachy too.

I thank the Style Editor profusely for her consistent posting this last month. Traveling about western New York and New Hampshire, I did not have easy access to a computer.

Check out this scathing review, complete with charges of plagiarism, of the latest Abe Lincoln book. Seems our departed President was not the homosexual some had hoped. Then again, as I said in detail a couple of years ago, neither was his illustrious and oft' abused predecessor.

Anglican Archbishop of Canterbury William Laud was beheaded on this day in 1645. I am sure the Society of King Charles the Martyr will be having a service somewhere.

Also on this day in 1776, Thomas Paine's screed Common Sense was first published, one of the more ironic titles of a book.

Happy Birthday Lord Acton, born on this day in 1834.

Surf's Up at Surf Aid

I haven't said anything about the tsunami because what really can I say beyond the obvious? But I do want to give a shoutout to a fantastic organization, Surf Aid . Founded by surfers to give back to the islands where they find so much pleasure, for the past several years Surf Aid has been working in the Mentawai Islands to better the health of the islanders. The Style Editor has had the pleasure of having some communication with the group in her professional capacity, and although I don't agree with all of their decisions (Stop faffing around, lads, and add IRS with DDT to your malaria control efforts instanter. Look! Even the New York Times thinks you should! ), I have been impressed with their dedication and ground operation. Surf Aid is now assisting with relief efforts on Nias and is doing a bang up job keeping people informed about what they are doing. (I can think of SEVERAL organizations that should learn from Surf Aid's excellent accountability measures. Hello, UN, are you paying attention? Hello?) Although it is highly unlikely that the Style Editor would ever be seen attempting to balance on a fiberglass board or would ever be able to properly use the word "stoked" in a sentence, her tsunami donations have gone to Surf Aid, because if Surf Aid gets extra money, I know it won't be wasted. Surf Aid. It's not just for surfers anymore.

January 6, The Feast of the Epiphany

The Wisemen have finally made it, and as a local Anglo-Catholic rector puts it, "the reality of the Incarnation blossoms into the staggering Truth that this is for everyone, including you and me! "

So, fellow goyim, celebrate the Epiphany (the "to make known") by munching on some Galette des Rois while grooving to the jaunty Provencal number The March of the 3 Kings (La Marche des Rois Mages)

In the morn we met the proud array
Of three great kings, the mighty wise men,
In the morn we met the proud array
Of three great kings upon the broad highway.
The men-at-arms with the youths and pages,
In jewelled robes they followed the sages,
And we were askèd to join with them
To find the Holy Child in Bethlehem.


Banners flew, outstanding in the breeze,
The trumpets blew, the drums were beating,
Banners flew, outstanding in the breeze,
The village people fell upon their knees.
And over them in heav'nly glory
Led on the star with its beaming light holy,
And we were askèd to join with them
To find the Holy Child in Bethlehem.

January 5th, The Twelfth Day of Christmas (Twelfth Night)

PLEASE TO SEE THE KING

Joy, health, love, and peace be all here in this place
By your leave, we will sing concerning our King

Our King is well dressed, in silks of the best
In ribbons so rare, no king can compare

We have traveled many miles, over hedges and stiles
In search of our King, unto you we bring

Old Christmas is past, Twelfth Night is the last
And we bid you adieu, great joy to the new

Ah Twelfth Night, the end of Christmas and a wild and rollocking time it used to be too. There's no reason why it still shouldn't be: party down and sing all your favorite Christmas carols!

January 4, The 11th day of Christmas

The wisemen are closing in, so we're going to take a peak at their progress with the carol, "King Herod and the Cock". It apparently hails from the West Midlands our thereabouts according to a West Midlands carol site, but the words are also found in the longer "Carnal and the Crane".

There was a star in David's land,
In David's land appeared,
And in King Herod's chamber
So bright it did shine there.


The wise men they soon spied it
And told the king anigh,
That a Prince's Babe was born that night
No king shall e'er destroy.


If this be the truth, King Herod said,
That thou hast told to me,
The roasted cock that lies in the dish
Shall crow full senses three.


Oh, the cock soon thrusten'd and feather'd well
By the works of God's own hand,
And he did crow full senses three
In the dish where he did stand.

January 3, The 10th Day of Christmas

Okay so yesterday's selection was a hymn and not a carol. Today's selection however is a carol and a rather sprightly one for the leaping lords. It's French, but it's delightful:Il Est Ne, le Divin Enfant. (He is Born, Holy Child Divine). (For those who want to hear the music, the MIDI file at the top of the linked page usually has an approximation of the tune, as much as MIDI can be said to approximate music. )

January 2, The 9th Day of Christmas

It had to happen sometime. As we ease into the New Year, today's featured carol is Martin Luther's great "Von Himmel Hoch da kom ich her", in the Catherine Winkworth translation. And yes, you should sing all 15 verses thank you very much.

January 1, The Circumcision of Our Lord (The Holy Name), New Year's Day

The Ombudsman thinks I need to explain circumcision. You can watch "Meet The Fockers" to get the technical bits, but of course circumcision is more than just that. Circumcision designates a Jewish male as descended from Abraham and his entering in to the original Covenant with God. At this time the child would also receive his name. Although not bound by the law, Christ fulfilled the law and so was circumcised on the eighth day (Luke, ii, 21), and received his name Jesus, meaning "He saves". He was, as St. Paul says, "made under the law", i.e. and submitted to the original Covenant, "that he might redeem them who were under the law: that we might receive the adoption of sons" (Gal., iv, 4, 5). I'm sure there was some medieval carol that covered all this, but I don't know it, so I'm going to choose the beautiful "Lullay my liking, my dear son" because I imagine a baby would need some lulling after being circumcised.

As for New Year's Day, the early church spent a while trying to pin down a date for the New Year. January 1st was the Roman choice for the day as it was the Feast of Janus, the god who looks both ways. The Church disapproved of the immense revelry that traditionally surrounded this day, and for a while attempts were made to celebrate the New Year in Spring, eventually though January 1st won and so...Happy New Year! You can party down with the rousing "Gloucestshire Wassail". or you can solemnly ponder the cycle of the year with the carol "Green Grow'th the Holly". Henry VIII apparently composed the haunting tune, but I try not to hold that against it.

Green Grow'th the Holly

Green grow'th the holly,
So doth the ivy;
Though winter blasts blow ne'er so high,
Green grow'th the holly.

Gay are the flowers,
Hedgerows and ploughlands;
The days grow longer in the sun,
Soft fall the showers.

Full gold the harvest,
Grain for thy labour;
With God must work for daily bread,
Else, man, thou starvest.

Fast fall the shed leaves,
Russet and yellow;
But resting-buds are snug and safe
Where swing the dead leaves.

Green grow'th the holly,
So doth the ivy;
The God of life can never die.
Hope! saith the holly.