Columnist.
Political mildness is scarce nowadays, so it has been pleasantly surprising that post-election denunciations of the Electoral College have been tepid. This, even though the winner of the presidential election lost the popular vote by perhaps 2.8 million votes, more than five times the 537,179 votes by which Al Gore outpolled George W. Bush in 2000.
Indiana's Thomas R. Marshall, who was America's vice president 100 years ago, voiced — he plucked it from a Hoosier humorist — one of the few long-remembered utterances to issue from that office: "What this country needs is a good 5-cent cigar," which would be $1.11 in today's currency. A century later, what the country needs is a $12 twelve-ounce cup of coffee.
There has been ferment among the literati since Bob Dylan was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. Many say that however well Dylan does what he does, it is not literature. Dylan did not go to Stockholm Saturday to collect his prize, which the Swedish Academy says was awarded "for having created new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition."
So, *this* is the new conservatism's recipe for restored greatness: Political coercion shall supplant economic calculation in shaping decisions by companies in what is called, with diminishing accuracy, the private sector. This will be done partly as conservatism's challenge to liberalism's supremacy in the victimhood sweepstakes, telling aggrieved groups that they are helpless victims of vast, impersonal forces, against which they can be protected only by government interventions.
The word "inappropriate" is increasingly used inappropriately. It is useful to describe departures from good manners or other social norms, such as wearing white after Labor Day or using the salad fork with the entree. But the adjective has become a splatter of verbal fudge, a weasel word falsely suggesting measured seriousness. Its misty imprecision does not disguise, it advertises, the user's moral obtuseness.
With the end of Fidel Castro's nasty life Friday night, we can hope, if not reasonably expect, to have seen the last of charismatic totalitarians worshiped by political pilgrims from open societies. Experience suggests there will always be tyranny tourists in flight from what they consider the boring banality of bourgeois society and eager for the excitement of sojourns in "progressive" despotisms that they are free to admire and then leave.
History has a sly sense of humor. It caused an epiphany regarding infrastructure projects — roads, harbors, airports, etc. — to occur on a bridge over Boston's Charles River, hard by Harvard Yard, where rarely is heard a discouraging word about government.
At this shank end of a shabby year, Americans still can be thankful: They do not have the problem of nothing to grumble about.
Many undergraduates, their fawn-like eyes wide with astonishment, are wondering: Why didn't the dean of students prevent the election from disrupting the serenity to which my school has taught me that I am entitled? Campuses create "safe spaces" where students can shelter from discombobulating thoughts and receive spiritual balm for the trauma of microaggressions. Yet the presidential election came without trigger warnings?
Seventeen days before President Donald Trump, his spoken oath of office still lingering in the wintry air, lifts his left hand from Scripture (a leather-bound edition of "The Art of the Deal"), the Republican-controlled Congress will begin working. Fittingly, on Jan. 3 the First Branch of government will go first, flexing its somewhat atrophied Article I muscles.
The Republican Party resembles the man who told his psychiatrist, "I have an identity problem, and so do I." The party's leader is at best indifferent to, and often is hostile to, much of the party's recent catechism: limited government, the rule of law, a restrained executive, fiscal probity, entitlement reforms, free trade, the general efficiency and equity of markets allocating wealth and opportunity, and — this matters especially — the importance of decorousness in political discourse.
At dawn Tuesday in West Quoddy Head, Maine, America's easternmost point, it was certain that by midnight in Cape Wrangell, Alaska, America's westernmost fringe, there would be a loser who deserved to lose and a winner who did not deserve to win. The surprise is that Barack Obama must have immediately seen his legacy, a compound of stylistic and substantive arrogance, disappearing, as though written on water in ink of vapor.
Tuesday evening, after Election Day's tranquility, new clamors will erupt as analysts with agendas tickle portents and lessons from the torrent of election returns.
As the presidential campaigns sink to the challenge of demonstrating that there is no such thing as rock bottom, remember this: When the Clintons decamped from Washington in January 2001, they took some White House furnishings that were public property. They also finished accepting more than $190,000 in gifts, including two coffee tables and two chairs, a $7,375 gratuity from Denise Rich, whose fugitive former husband had been pardoned in President Clinton's final hours. A Washington Post editorial ("Count the Spoons") identified "the Clintons' defining characteristic: They have no capacity for embarrassment. Words like shabby and tawdry come to mind. They don't begin to do it justice."
In 1936, President Franklin Roosevelt defeated Kansas' Gov. Alfred Landon in 46 of the 48 states, thereby creating the jest, "As Maine goes, so goes Vermont." Eight decades later, New England has gone from the Republicans' last redoubt in a bad year to their least receptive region in any year. Its six states have made 36 decisions in the last six presidential elections and the score is Democrats 35, Republicans 1 — New Hampshire supported George W. Bush in 2000. Republicans hold just two of New England's 21 congressional seats, and two of 12 Senate seats, those of Maine's Susan Collins and New Hampshire's Kelly Ayotte.
When told that the New England transcendentalist Margaret Fuller had grandly declared "I accept the universe," the Scottish philosopher Thomas Carlyle dryly remarked: "She'd better." Much ink and indignation has been spilled concerning whether Donald ("I am much more humble than you would understand") Trump will "accept" the election's outcome. The nation, like the universe of which it is the nicest part, will persevere even without the election result being accepted by the fellow who probably will be the first presidential candidate in 16 years to receive less — probably a lot less — than 45 percent of the vote.
In 49 states, when you order breakfast in a restaurant you might be asked if you would like pancakes or an omelet. In Wisconsin, you are asked if you would like pancakes with your omelet. Ron Johnson would, thank you. This Republican U.S. senator, who is burning prodigious amounts of calories campaigning for a second and final term, really does represent the hearty eaters who were fueling up at a Perkins restaurant here on a recent Sunday morning. In 2010, Johnson left his plastics manufacturing company that made him wealthy enough to try, against his preference for the private sector and against his wife's adamant disapproval, to become the only manufacturer in the Senate. He surfed into that chamber on the Republican wave raised by two things that annoyed Johnson enough to propel him into politics — the Obama administration's stimulus that did not stimulate, and Obamacare, which six years later is in intensive care.
A specter is haunting academia, the specter of specters — ghosts, goblins and "cultural appropriation" through insensitive Halloween costumes. Institutions of higher education are engaged in the low comedy of avoiding the agonies of Yale. Last October, the university was rocked to its 315-year-old foundations by the wife of a residential college master (a title subsequently expunged from Yale's vocabulary lest it trigger traumas by reminding people that slavery once existed). In response to a university memorandum urging students to wear culturally sensitive costumes — e.g., no sombreros — she wrote an email saying it should be permissible for young people to be inappropriate, provocative or even offensive because "the ability to tolerate offense" is a hallmark of "a free and open society."
Another small step was taken last week on the steep and winding ascent back to constitutional norms. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit, the nation's second-most important court, did its judicial duty by reprimanding Congress for abandoning constitutional propriety. The court declared unconstitutional the unprecedented independence that Congress conferred on the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau. This legal skirmish about one aspect of this one tentacle of the administrative state may seem recondite and trivial. It concerns, however, two momentous matters. One is the integrity of the federal government's Madisonian architecture. The other is something that not even the prescient James Madison could have anticipated — Congress' modern eagerness to diminish itself.
Trump's sexual loutishness is a sufficient reason for defeating him, but it is far down a long list of sufficient reasons.
