Archive for March, 2010

Civility and Hypocrisy Don’t Mix

Michael Steele, head of the Republican party, is in hot water because he refused to sign on to a civility pledge cooked up by Democrats. Good for you, Mr. Steele. Regardless of your motive or your reasoning for refusing to lend your party’s imprimatur to farcical, feel-good hypocrisy, your stand is laudable.

For months now, lefty pundits have been sounding a call to civility. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Civility is a concept we can all get our arms around, not a plot perpetrated on the American people by an “effete core of impudent snobs.” Who among us does not want to live in a please-and-thank-you kind of world? Who among us, save our esteemed Vice President, does not agree that keeping a civil tongue in public discourse is a good thing?

Teach a man to write, and he can express his beliefs civilly.

But it seems pretty plain that civil, let alone honest, debate will be impossible to achieve unless and until the demagogues are called out for what they are, and the powers that be adopt a zero-tolerance policy for unexamined assumptions, unsubstantiated assertions, and unprincipled exaggerations. Unfortunately, nowhere are these unsavory rhetorical tactics more on display than in the writing of racial polemicists, who even in the aftermath of a battle they won—health care reform—are still firing off bunker-busting broadsides to ensure it’ll be a long time before their challengers resurface.

Take, for example, two columns that appeared on the same day in the New York Times and the Washington Post. The authors are different—Charles Blow and Colbert King, respectively—and the words they use are somewhat different. The hate and lies they spew are exactly the same.

Blow and King begin their poison pen essays with an identical assumption: those who opposed health care reform are “far-right extremists” (Blow) or “Tea Party supporters and their right-wing fellow travelers” (King). Each then goes on to draw invidious, unfounded comparisons between the so-called extremists (i.e., opponents of the recently signed health care reform legislation) and domestic terrorists. Here’s Charles Blow:

According to a report entitled “Rage on the Right: The Year in Hate and Extremism” recently released by the Southern Poverty Law Center, “nativist extremist” groups that confront and harass suspected immigrants have increased nearly 80 percent since President Obama took office, and antigovernment “patriot” groups more than tripled over that period.

Politically, this frustration is epitomized by the Tea Party movement.

Here’s Colbert King:

The angry faces at Tea Party rallies are eerily familiar. They resemble faces of protesters lining the street at the University of Alabama in 1956 as Autherine Lucy, the school’s first black student, bravely tried to walk to class.

Those same jeering faces could be seen gathered around the Arkansas National Guard troopers who blocked nine black children from entering Little Rock’s Central High School in 1957.

The conflation of groups here is as dizzying as an air traffic controller’s radar at O’Hare at 5:00 PM on a weekday. But we can unpack it using the elegant language of mathematics:

Opponent of the recent legislation = Tea Party member = right wing extremist = Timothy McVeigh ~ David Duke.

If the oddly similar passages above aren’t enough to convince you that Blow and King both got the same talking-points memo, then please compare the conclusions to their simultaneously published columns. This time, Mr. King is up first:

Those angry faces won’t go away. But neither can they stand in the way of progress.

The mobs of yesteryear were on the wrong side of history. Tea Party supporters and their right-wing fellow travelers are on the wrong side now. It shows up in their faces.

And now Mr. Blow:

The Tea Party, my friends, is not the future.

You may want “your country back,” but you can’t have it. That sound you hear is the relentless, irrepressible march of change. Welcome to America: The Remix.

If one were to play the nasty game that Columnists Blow and King engage in here, one might be tempted to take notice of their myopia. It’s almost as if they were saying, “all those folks out there who disagree with me, well, they all look alike to me.” On second thought, there is no “almost” about it.

Teach a man to lie, and he can be a columnist for the New York Times or the Washington Post.

There will be no civil discourse until we agree to take off the dark glasses of our prejudice.

NOTE to readers: This post, sans illustrations, appeared originally on March 29, 2010 on the website The American Thinker.

The Court Affirms Miss McMillen’s First Amendment Rights to Express Her Sexuality and Don Black Tie

As a First Amendment absolutist, I agree completely with the court’s decision, which you can read here. Miss McMillen’s rights have been vindicated. She just can’t exercise them at the prom, which the court also said could remain canceled.

No harm, no foul, no prom.

Congress making no law abridging the right of a school district to cancel the prom.

Constance McMillen Gets Her Day in Court

Surrounded by a flotilla of ACLU attorneys, Constance McMillen made her way into the US District Court House in Aberdeen, Mississippi yesterday. She and her lawyers were there to argue that Itawamba High School should be ordered by the court to un-cancel its prom, once scheduled for Friday, April 2. A federal judge, rather than prom king and queen, presided over this particular court.

The US District Court where Miss McMillen plead her case.

Forgetting for the moment the improbable coincidence that my mother’s first name is “Constance” and her birthday happens to be April 2, it occurred to me this morning to wonder how many Itawamba High students would have excused themselves from the dance because it was to have taken place on Good Friday, one of the holiest days in the Christian calendar.

In the mediarama that ensued after Miss McMillen threatened her first suit (the one that brought her to court on Monday was her second), I do not recall a single comment about this unfortunate timing. And that’s as interesting as it is puzzling, since both supporters and detractors of Miss McMillen were quick to point out that Itawamba County is but one of the many notches of the Bible Belt. A reasonable person might assume that any number of devout parents might have frowned on their son or daughter kicking up his or her heels on this day of solemn contemplation. A reasonable person might even wonder why the powers that be did not glance at a calendar: separation of church and state does not preclude sensitivity to individuals’ religious observances. No college or university that I am aware of—private or public—schedules exams on, for example, Good Friday, Yom Kippur or Eid. I am really curious to know why a high school prom in this instance is so different from an exam. Because it’s voluntary?

I might buy that, if it weren’t for the spontaneous outpourings from Miss McMillen’s cheering squad that attending prom is a “right” of passage that high school students absolutely, positively, can’t-possibly-miss must attend. Elevating a school dance to the level of compulsory life experience makes it at least as important as all those tests that do not take place on certain days of sacred significance. Isn’t the prom therefore also worthy of taking place on a day that allows for more inclusion?

So I guess I also wonder why the Christians who presumably could not attend the Itawamba High School prom because of their religious beliefs didn’t get busy with their legal briefs. Why didn’t they round up publicity-seeking lawyers to plead their case that a Good Friday prom for them would be no prom at all? I am sure someone would have taken up the cause.

I’d like to think it is because, unlike Miss McMillen, these students understood that although they can want something desperately they can’t always have it, even if that something is being withheld from them by people who are thoughtless or bigoted or both. I’d like to think these students chose to choose their battles wisely. That’s called “growing up.” Something I hope in time Miss McMillen will do.

Perhaps on Sunday, April 4 Miss McMillen (R) and her date will wear their prom finery in the Easter Parade.

NOTE to readers: A good account of the March 23 hearing appears in today’s Washington Post. And of course CMM!‘s earlier trenchant commentary, Constance McMillen and Barak Obama: Spiritual Prom Dates, for background and context.

The President and the Professors

Less lugubriousness wouldn’t necessarily buy him a health-care bill. But in the long run, Americans might find it easier to root for or with Obama if he’d show us, despite everything, that he’s happy we hired him.

Above is the concluding paragraph of a fascinating essay, “Obama’s Happiness Deficit,” in Monday’s on-line Washington Post. Its author, Post Editorial Page Editor Fred Hiatt, spends most of his column musing about the reasons President Obama seems, well, so miserable these days. Until that devastating final paragraph, only almost in passing does Hiatt reference that Obama’s malaise and what the electorate is feeling about the president these days is mutual: “Still, I think Americans want a president who seems, despite everything, to relish the challenge. They don’t want to have to feel grateful to him for taking on the burden.” Hiatt wisely, or unwittingly, leaves that job to readers, who at last count as I write, have logged 992 comments, all of them variations on sample comments from

“Rank1”: “Happy? [President Obama] is simply in way over his head!”

“Jarbo1”: “Obama is just frustrated because the American people are even dumber than he thought. He knows what’s best for us and we just don’t get it.”

And “senatorgoofy”: “A suggestion for [Obama]….RESIGN!
Go write a book, travel, whatever….just do us all a favor and leave.”

To sum up, a Washington Post editorialist suggests the president is unhappy; readers flood the paper’s website to with comments that make three points: 1) the president isn’t up to the demands of his job; 2) the president doesn’t listen to us; and 3) the president should just go away. Virtually none of the commenters expresses sympathy for Hiatt’s point of view or for the president’s sad situation.

Far be it for me to pile it on, but we all know that it’s lonely at the top, so a certain amount of Obama’s ennui is to be expected. And while the biliousness of many of the negative comments about the president, not to mention the sheer volume of them, especially in the resolutely liberal Washington Post, is somewhat surprising, what really grabbed my attention is the commonality the writers’ critiques share with what a faculty might say when it threatens or carries out a “vote of no confidence” in a college president, the kiss of death for an academic CEO.

For all their obsessive inflation of the everyday workplace irritants that the most of us shrug off, because the number of hours we work precludes our having time to indulge in our obsessions, faculty members nevertheless are in the main all bark—vicious yelps, to be sure—and only toothless bite when it comes to going after administrators they don’t like. For many faculty, griping about the administration is a recreational activity, complete with wholesome competition for who can hurl the snidest insult or invent the most lurid rumor. That they get away with these jejeune hi-jinks goes without saying, because they think, erroneously, that academic freedom means never having to keep their mouths shut. Woe to the person who tries to set them straight.

But I digress. Occasionally, on two or three campuses a year, perhaps, faculties will stop playing games long enough to declare that they’ve had it with the president or chancellor who heads their college or university. Much ink will flow at Inside Higher Ed and The Chronicle of Higher Education as academics everywhere follow the insurrections with avid attention and scorecards at the ready. If the campus civil war is particularly bloody, the mainstream press might enter the fray, but this generally only happens if the president is stupid enough to spend well upwards of six figures on interior decoration fees for his office or college-owned home, or is brazen enough to put his honey on the payroll. Neither of these examples is made-up, by the way.

So what makes a usually oblivious faculty rise up as one and take notice of a rogue administrator? Sad to say, the number one reason is always and inevitably one of self-interest: the budget is so hopelessly in the red that firing secretaries, custodians and middle managers can no longer stop the bleeding. Keep in mind that in this scenario the library hasn’t made a purchase in two years, and buckets are strategically placed in corridors to catch the drips when it rains. Until this point, the faculty, their raises, and their “development” money have been carefully preserved, for the logical reason of maintaining the product, the academic program.

The head of the Faculty Senate delivers 99 no-confidence votes to the door of the president's office.

But there does come that awful day when the size of the faculty must be trimmed. The first, and usually only, to go are those without tenure. But the howls that will ensue from the anointed ones with jobs-for-life will be blood-curdling, so terrified are they when they have a close brush with the workplace reality of those who labor without the privilege of tenure. So, like threatened pack animals, they plan and execute their attack, which will come in the form of a no-confidence vote accompanied by a somber, sorrowful letter to the board of trustees. The letter will make three points: 1) the president isn’t up to the demands of his job [translation: he isn’t raising enough money]; 2) the president doesn’t listen to us [translation: he doesn’t agree with us]; and 3) the president should just go away [translation: so we can keep our jobs]. Sound familiar?

Portrait of President Hubris, after the faculty's vote of no confidence.

Cheer up, President Obama. So far no one’s complained about how you decorated the Oval Office.

Constance McMillen and Barack Obama: Spiritual Prom Dates

You may have read or heard a story about Mississippi high school senior Constance McMillen, who teamed up with the ACLU to exercise her inalienable right to don a tuxedo and take her sophomore girlfriend to the senior prom. Miss McMillen and her lawyers were nonplussed when the school board responded to their suit with the following statement: “Due to the distractions to the educational process caused by recent events, the Itawamba County School District has decided to not host a prom at Itawamba Agricultural High School this year.” Elsewhere in its statement, the board suggests that private citizens or groups might sponsor a prom in lieu of the school function.

Proms are a touchy subject for me. My journey down the dusty road to spinsterhood began early: I didn’t attend the Varsity Club dance (semi-formal). I didn’t attend the Junior Prom (formal). I didn’t have a date for either. Full disclosure: I did not attend a single dance the entire time I was sentenced to high school.

This was back in the days when prom-goers counted themselves lucky if they could borrow dad’s car to drive to the gym, not order up a pimped-out limo to deliver them to the Crowne Plaza “ballroom” and then on to the obligatory round of after-parties. Girls bought their prom dresses in shops with names like “Deb’s Den,” “The Yankee Lady,” or “Grad’s.” (Had I gone to the prom, mine would have come from Lerner’s.) What the boys wore was of little consequence, as long as they produced the requisite wrist corsage to match their date’s perfect dress and shoes. Established cliques schemed to get their sisters elected prom queen and her court. There was always a bottle or two of vodka to be had. Or so I have been told, having had no firsthand experience.

I give my parents a lot of credit for not getting all bent out of shape about my lack of a date to the prom. While they may have sprung for a pizza for dinner on prom night, they did not go running to the principal’s office to complain that it was unfair I couldn’t get a date. And they certainly didn’t hire a lawyer to fight for my right to be a wallflower.

So you will understand if I have a mixed and somewhat jaundiced take on Miss McMillen’s courageous litigation. I am robust proof that one can live a promless life. For Miss McMillen, and for her classmates, missing the prom will be a lifelong catastrophe only if high school proves to be the highpoint of their social experience. And if that is true, then they have more problems than can be solved by “An Evening in Paradise,” “A Night at the Copa” or “An Undersea Fantasy” -themed school dance. Or by a lawsuit aided and abetted by the ACLU.

“But..but..but…” you are sputtering, “Miss McMillen is a lesbian! Don’t you understand how marginalized she is by society and her peers?” Having seen a picture or two of her, I assure you Miss McMillen is anything but marginal. And if you don’t believe me, listen to her, as she defends the second suit she and the ACLU have just filed—to force the school district to hold the prom: “This isn’t just about me and my rights anymore—now I’m fighting for the right of all the students at my school to have our prom.” Uh-uh. Apparently when apprising Miss McMillen of her legal rights, the ACLU neglected to fill her in on the risks of bringing a suit.

Miss McMillen is quoted in The San Diego Tribune as saying “she never expected the district to respond [by canceling the prom]. ‘A lot of people said that was going to happen, but I said, they [sic] had already spent too much money on the prom’ to cancel it, she said.” In other words, Miss McMillen assumed that only she and she alone could take a principled stand: the school district would be guided by money alone. Oops.

I don’t really care how l’affaire prom resolves itself, or what color carnation Miss McMillen’s boutonniere will sport. I hope that she goes on to live a happy and productive life, and that she finds a partner to share that life with. But I do care that high school proms and yearbooks have become easy targets for publicity-seeking self-perceived misfits, and that the ACLU is trigger-happy to lend them an instigating, enabling hand. When I was in school these kids channeled their non-conformist yearnings into plotting their escapes to college, New York or Paris. Rather than wanting “them” to be like “me,” the “me’s” longed for the day when they could leave the squares behind. It’s so interesting to me that teens today have so utterly lost that desire to escape. They’d rather go to the prom. Sad.

Perhaps the president will give Miss McMillen the name of his tailor.

Sadder still is the give-me-what-I-want-now-or-I’ll-make-you-pay attitude that runs through Miss McMillen’s story, and the dozen variations on it we will read from now until the high school prom then graduation seasons are over. It’s the same attitude that President Obama has adopted to push through his version of health care “reform.” Damn the consequences, damn the consensus, full speed ahead with what I want. Because I’m right. And you’re wrong.

On the other hand, if I had to choose between one of these dainty frocks, I'd probably demand a tuxedo, too.

Andrew and Johnny, We Wish We Hardly Knew Ye

Last week the Boston Herald, not one of my usual go-to sources for CMM! news, published a report that former Senator John “The Codpiece” Edwards was about to be indicted. The Herald‘s source is the always-reliable National Enquirer, which in turn reports that The Piece’s indictment would likely be for the misdirection of campaign funds 1) to provide a comfortable lifestyle for his videographer turned paramour turned mother of his fifth child and 2) to ensure sufficient hush money to keep his procurer Andrew Young from ratting out the star-crossed cheaters.

While it is also true that earlier this year I stated there is nothing left to say about Edwards, it turns out that I was only half-right. About the indictment I couldn’t care less. Or about the divorce drama that I am certain will ensue. Not even do I care whether Rielle visits him at Club Fed.

Keep the hand santizer close by as you turn the pages.

No, what makes John Edwards worthy of another mention is not the man himself, but rather his prominent role in the life of Andrew Young, whose The Politician is the worst-written book you won’t be able to stop reading, as it spins a tale in which nobody is likable, nobody is the kind of person you’d want to have a cup of coffee with or even admit you know. You cannot put The Politician down, in spite of the poor quality of the writing. You know what’s coming: juicy revelations about the hash John Edwards has made of his career and his life; an unflattering portrait of his supposedly sainted wife Elizabeth; and TMI about how a powerful man manages to delude himself into thinking he can have a little something on the side without anyone being the wiser. You get all this and more.

You get Andrew Young, whose picture ought to be in the dictionary illustrating the word “hack,” revealing his greed, consuming ambition, and lack of moral compass on every page. Just as you think your opinion of Young cannot sink any lower, you turn a page and once again you learn he has sold a little more of his soul for another raise.

Would you entrust your mistress to this man?

We first meet Young as a newly minted lawyer attracted to politics. Not as an office seeker, for he is “too shy” to speak in public. His attraction, rather, appears to be based on the proximity to raw power the job of a campaign staffer or an office dogsbody would bring him. He gets his chance when he slips into a hotel conference room filled with trial lawyers listening to John Edwards opine. It is love at first sight for Andrew. Just like a teenager with a crush, he hangs around the hotel lobby, successfully ambushing the object of his affection. And from this “chance” meeting grows a beautiful codependency as the two buddies immerse themselves in the fetid swamp of good ole boy politics and puerile shenanigans.

Edwards needs Young to do his dirty work; Young needs Edwards as his meal ticket. Since neither man gives any evidence of having a conscience, it’s a perfect match. What fun these soulless mates have. Illicit rendezvous! Secret cell-phones! Private codes! Imagine the hilarity that ensues when Andrew sneaks Edwards’ gal pal into the family home for a roll in the marital bed that’s half Elizabeth’s, with the Edwards kids, and their babysitter, in the next room. What merry mayhem when Rielle gets trapped in the candidate’s suite and clueless staffers call security to have her ejected.

And through it all, stalwart Andrew tells us that although he hated the deception, it was worth it for the “130 percent” raise. I think this is logic we can all relate to.

Please do click on the link to the Herald report, for it is accompanied by a revealing picture of John Edwards. His piggy eyes squeezed tight, his capped teeth bared in a semi-snarl, the color of his improbable hair looking a tad chemically altered, Edwards reveals the selfish, self-created noxious concoction of deceit and hubris that he is.

I wonder where my career went.

If you have a low tolerance for really inferior prose, skip The Politician: it will drive you crazy. If, on the other hand, you can overlook the writing, please do read it because it is as rich with intrigue, hubris, irony, comedy and tragedy as anything you’ll find by Shakespeare.

Financial Aid: An Unfortunate Model for Health Care Reform

As college admissions’ offices are gearing up to flood the USPS with acceptance packets and rejection letters, parents of college-bound teenagers are shifting through their piles of “I’ll read it later” to pull out the US News & World Report that’s been out of sight since last August, when parents and their kids bought it to program the GPS for the ritual that has become the “college tour.”

For many would-be undergraduates, those few short months between then and now are a maelstrom of questions: What schools are on my list? What schools can I get into? How much will it cost? Will my parents veto my decision? What if I don’t get into my first choice? Will mom insist I go to her alma mater?

How students answer these questions is a process educational consultants, marketing experts, and SEO gurus regard as the Holy Grail of their professional achievements. Figure out how kids make their decision about which college to attend, and you will soon finding yourself making a pit stop at one college business office after another to pick up your hard-earned cash as you wend your way to Easy Street. Staid, crusty academic administrators will be competing for your services with the same ardor that faculty seek out an office with windows and a 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. schedule, Wednesdays only.

For parents the decision is no less agonizing, but the questions are different: Will my kid get a job after she graduates? Will she fit in? Do well? Will he be safe on campus? Will the education set up my child for a better life? And of course, the big two: Can we afford this choice and is it worth it?

To answer many of these questions, students and parents alike reach for US News & World Report, a helpful but flawed resource, to aid in the decision-making. Students pore over the choice of majors and the male:female ratio. HINT to horny guys: Go the route of the four-year liberal arts college. You are guaranteed to be a big man on campus. You might even be the only man on campus, given the disproportionate number of women you’ll encounter. Trust me, if you want to perk up your social/dating life, think “four-year liberal arts.” HINT to women: Consider the women’s colleges, since you’re not likely to get a date on a co-ed campus anyway, but you will find the women’s colleges offer you academically challenging programs and a boatload of self-confidence and independence. Alternatively, think about universities: you’ll still be in the majority, but the margins are better if you’re determined to get a date on a Saturday night.

Parents, on the other hand, tend to zero in on more mundane statistics: graduation rates, tuition and fees, endowment, and, of course, financial aid. Armed with these bottom-line figures, a great number of parents have learned to play “let’s make a deal” when considering an offer of aid. A student who has been accepted by more than one college and offered aid as well may attempt to pit the institutions against each other to up the offers. Unsavory, yes. Unproductive, usually.

Before and during and the financial meltdown, colleges made heroic efforts to keep funds flowing into the financial aid budget in order to build a class that has academically talented students, males, people of color, athletes, and artists. If, as many students do, you have the good fortune to fall into more than one of these categories, your attributes will be rewarded by a more robust offer of aid. But students and parents would do well to keep in mind that as financial aid budgets increase, the dollars that bulk up those budgets are more than likely dollars that otherwise would have funded improvements to the campus, additional faculty, students’ and faculty research or creative projects, books and electronic subscriptions for the library. Institutions that lack endowments in the hundreds of millions or the billions, and even some that do, are playing a zero-sum game in order to provide some students with a substantial discount off the “sticker price.”

Is this social engineering? Of course it is, although the college will use the elegant language of a “well-rounded class,” or some such to justify charging one family more than another. It will also raise tuition in order to fund additional increases to the financial aid budget. It is a sanctioned, even lauded, transfer of wealth: you pay more, so I can pay less. Works for me. Do some students get shut out? Of course: those whose parents cannot or will not pay the full freight, and those whose family cannot or will not make up the remaining charge after financial aid has been deducted. The wealthy can pay; the most under-privileged are awarded the largest grants.

When I worked in higher education and the topic turned to financial aid policy, I often wanted to plead a sick headache and flee the meeting. Determining the financial aid budget is an incredibly complicated balancing act, one that many people of good will labor over mightily to meet the lofty goals and impossible benchmarks they set for themselves. And no matter how hard they try, they go into this grueling exercise knowing its outcome: everybody will not be happy, many people will be very unhappy, and the “well-rounded class” may or may not materialize.

Now I get headaches from the fetid air that’s circulating in Washington to breathe life back into the mouldering corpse of health care legislation. It’s dawned on me that many of the suggested improvements to our current system are similar to the way financial aid is distributed now. Very similar, in fact. Some will pay a sticker price in the form of new taxes or some other fee linked to the cost of a policy so that others can get a discounted price. After a few years, a pattern similar to enrollment demographics will emerge: great choices for those who have the wherewithal to pay the ever-increasing sticker price and terrific subsidies that will make good insurance available to those who establish their neediness. Meanwhile, in the middle, parents will be reaching for US News and wondering how to tell their child that he can go to college, or the family can be insured, but it can’t afford both…because mom and dad’s combined incomes are at once too little and too much.


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Latest entry in “Where Are They Now?”

Justice has been served to both partners in the mom-pop crime wave that embezzled a cool $2.5 million from bastion of transparency and accountability Vassar College.

Amy Bishop: Countdown to Court

A judge in Huntsville, Alabama set a trial date of March 19, 2012 for former biology professor Amy Bishop, whose colleagues in the biology department watched in terror as she gunned down three faculty members and severely wounded others in 2009. The motive, apparently, was Bishop's denial of tenure at the University of Alabama, Huntsville.

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