Explaining the Franken Outcome

I have a nice concise explanation to offer for the Democrats' crazy treatment of the Franken matter. I think this explains the whole thing.

You know the old adage "A little knowledge is dangerous"?

Here's a corollary: A little morality is dangerous.

The Democratic Party is perhaps 5% more moral (it's spiked a bit higher this year, due not to Dem high-mindedness but to Republican depravity). And that's just not sufficient for them to be anywhere near righteous/sane/effective in posing as paragons of virtue.

Arguably

The Washington Post just wrote:

Franken’s alleged offenses were arguably less serious than those attributed to Moore...

Anonymous accusations of ass grabbing and attempted kissing are only "arguably" less serious than multiple named accusations of child molestation in the view of one of our nation's preeminent newspapers.

We have lost our flipping minds.


(And no, I don't think ass grabbing or attempted kissing are acceptable behavior, duh. But sane, moderate people are obviously able to distinguish degrees of misconduct).

Zero Tolerance

I'm testing out, here, a new-for-me perspective. I reserve the right to walk it back if I decide it's overstated. But the more I think about it, the more gears clink into place, leaving me increasingly confident that this counterintuitive view is correct.


If you've ever advocated for a "zero tolerance" policy, you are not moderate. You are an extremist, lacking the essential human quality of restraint. And if you'd insist that there's no shame in being an extremist for What's Right, I'd remind you that every extremist who's ever lived has deemed themselves precisely that.

Restraint should not be optional. Restraint doesn't imply sympathy for bad deeds, nor for the doers. Restraint doesn't equate with weakness. Restraint is an essential faculty exercised by modern, civilized people even when (particularly when!) they're feeling scared, disgusted, or outraged. To eschew restraint is to be un-modern, uncivilized, and extreme. Staunchly unwavering conviction is not, it turns out, our best look.

Terrorists are awful. Do they deserve restraint, or shall we torture them freely? What? You oppose torture as a matter of principle? Swell! So: is that restraint an expression of weakness? Does it make you a terrorist sympathizer?

If you favor principled restraint in some realms and zero tolerance in others, you should take time to resolve this contradiction (it's a doozy; don't expect it to budge quickly). Try applying principled restraint to your pet outrages and loathings. Consider the proposition that racists, for example, might deserve human consideration just as you might insist on for a jihadist mass-murderer.


After mulling over the ramifications of mob craziness recently witnessed in several realms, I've decided I have a zero tolerance policy toward zero tolerance policies. Those who advocate them, ironically, are the same folks who preach the virtues of tolerance. We ensure a tolerant society via zero tolerance. It's the ultimate deranged endgame of The Tolerance Paradox. We have arrived.

Both feel seductively soothing to our animal brains, but nothing good comes from nationalism nor from zero tolerance. The sooner we can recognize these idealogical dead ends and move on, the better.

A Novel Approach to Silencing Movie Theater Chatterers

Two young women right behind me in a theater were talking. Continuously. Honestly, I've never heard human beings maintain unbroken speech for such a length of time. It wasn't loud, but it was unceasing.

I shot them a look. The talking continued. I offered a sustained glare. No improvement.

Finally, I wheeled my whole body around, startling them, and gave them my best goofy grin. "Hi there! My name's Jim!!" I piped up, with my happiest happy face. "Hey, are we having a discussion? That's awesome! So what do you guys wanna talk about?" There was no trace of menace; only pure eager affability.

They froze. One managed to croak out an "I'm sorry." And they didn't utter a sound for the remainder of the film.

See also my "Two Strategies For Deflecting Cellphone Loudmouths"


Here's the thing: If I'd asked them - politely or not - to be quiet, I'd have made myself yet another oppositional force to ignore. Instead, I leveraged their deep, primal disinclination to engage with a friendly stranger. Now that's a powerful force!

This is also a great way to discourage strangers from grabbing the seat next to you on a bus or subway. I just smile at them warmly as they approach (ala "Hey, great! It's you!!").

Everybody Lies

Lawyers may or may not be among your favorite organisms, but it's useful to learn from the way they think. People are talking about a great new article, "Everybody Lies", explaining why you should never, ever talk to law enforcement (especially the FBI) without ample consultation with a lawyer. It presents a profoundly cynical view of human nature and of law enforcement, but it's very hard to quibble with its witty and counterintuitive conclusions, which obviously stem from deep experience.

It's a particularly important read for over-earnest types like me. One's truthful compass may not be built on ground as firm as you'd imagine...and it likely won't save you, in any event.

Author Ken White is a legal blogger and former federal prosecutor. He tweets as Popehat and is part of my Twitter must-read list of informed Trump opposition figures.

Excerpts (but please read the whole thing; it's an enjoyable quick read):

You, dear readers, know my advice about talking to the FBI: don't. If the FBI — or any law enforcement agency — asks to talk to you, say "No, I want to talk to my lawyer, I don't want to talk to you," and repeat as necessary. Do not talk to them "just to see what they want." Do not try to "set the facts straight." Do not try to outwit them. Do not explain that you have "nothing to hide."

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up.

And...

There's a commandment about not bearing false witness. But rules don't become commandments because they're really easy to follow. They become commandments because we — we bunch of broken hooting apes — are prone to break them. Everybody lies. Humans lie more under pressure. FBI agents are trained in two dozen ways to ratchet up the pressure on you without getting out of their chair — verbal, nonverbal, tone, expression, pacing, subject changing, every trick that any cop ever used in the box. You're only human. Unprepared, you will likely lie. Smart people, dumb people, ditchdiggers and neurosurgeons, lawyers and accountants, the good and the bad, they all lie.

And...

But the FBI would never prosecute you for a false statement that was the result of a failed memory, right? Oh, my sweet country mouse.

My Racist Window Unit

My early brush with Outrage Culture:

In 1994, I bought an air conditioner from an Indian family in my building, and for the next several years, whenever I turned on the unit, my whole apartment would smell overwhelmingly like curry (fine by me, naturally). I thought this was a great story, so I mentioned it a couple of times to friends. Their faces tightened. I was being "racist." The fact that it was true was utterly irrelevant.

Strangely giving a crap, I learned to stop telling that particular story. But one day, a different friend visited me on a warm afternoon, and we turned on the air conditioner. Unprompted, my friend inquired about the curry smell. I explained its origins, and her face tightened. Even now, I was being a racist...when she'd been the one to make the observation!

Or maybe my air conditioner was racist. I'm still not sure who exactly the racist was...


Soon thereafter, I opened Chowhound and learned about the propensity of mobs to lose their minds over whatever yadda yadda happens to offend them this week (it truly got ridiculous; one user demanded that I stop recommending the classic "White Trash Cookbook", asking if I'd be so eager to promote, say, the "Filthy Jew Cookbook"...to which I believe I replied "From your keyboard to my literary agent's ears!").

The magic catalyst, I discovered, was a critical mass sympathetic to the outraged party. Without this, mouthy offended people seem like deranged lunatics. But if their pique goes viral, it can take over absolutely everything. Mobs are scary, though they feel sublimely righteous from within. Nothing feels better than an angry mob to an angry mob. 

Gary Lucas' Astonishing Concert

I saw an astonishing gig last night, a solo concert by Gary Lucas, the guitarist from Captain Beefheart's band, who I'd always enjoyed on those records from half a century ago.

Live, solo, and decades later, he was a whole other thing. He whipped through Fellini film music by Nino Rota, Chinese pop tunes from the 30s, Leoš Janáček studies (I'd have killed for some Villa Lobos), and various covers and originals, all performed in a funky, bluesy, apparently sloppy swamp-gas style with such intense relish that the effect was downright devotional.

I say "apparently sloppy" because while at first it sounded like random notes were popping out of the gutbucket mayhem, it wasn't until passages repeated three or four times that I realized, with wonderment, that the same "random" notes were appearing each time, via inhuman control. With this earth-shaking realization, I understood the magnitude of what was happening, and started listening far more closely.

I finally thought to record a couple minutes of the very last tune (by no means the best). I've played with thousands of guitarists, and dozens of highly inventive ones. I've heard, ad infinitum, every one of the usual permutations guitarists choose to voice chords. And he is doing things here that I can't begin to analyze. Not noisy, anarchic things (which easily defy analysis), but tuneful, formalized things which do not normally lend themselves to wholesale reinvention. A lot of the magic is in his myriad weirdo tunings, but it's unimaginable that he could be so utterly fluent within each different one.



The almost goofy thing about Lucas' performance was how extraordinarily easy it would've been to assume he's just a manically funky strummer with fast hands. I'm sure that's how the vast majority of the audience heard it. But as with an iceberg's water, 95% of the talent is hidden well out of sight, cagily slipped beneath the funky clamor, and easy for even a seasoned musician to miss. Each time my attention drifted - because my ears felt assured they were locked onto something familiar - I'd be jarred from my reverie by some subliminal thunderstroke making me exclaim, out loud, "What the HELL was that?!?"

Gushing subtle miracles and slyly understated wonderment, Gary Lucas is a god of nano-aesthetics.


Shortly after I erased myself from the music business to concentrate on Chowhound, Lucas slipped into a band I'd only recently been playing with. I really wish I had hung around a while longer....

How Latin was Replaced by Italian

Check out this fascinating reply to the question "When did Italian become the language of Italy?"

“...so, it can be said that the evolution of Italian did not take place directly from Latin, but rather it arose from the need for a new “common language” understandable by all the inhabitants of the Italian peninsula, that replaced the disappearing Latin over a background of thousands of different languages and dialects that were the evolution of the vulgar versions of Latin spoken since Roman times. And it can be said that literature and poetry were the greatest drivers behind the making of Italian language, which probably is part of the reason for its musicality.”

Huge Dyson Vacuum Sale

Following up on the OLED TV deal, more bargain luxury...

The Dyson V6 is, pretty unanimously, by far the best cordless vacuum you can buy (detailed review) There are also models V7 and V8, but they're mostly about longer charge time, and you pay like crazy for it. V6 is still the popular one.

The V6 is now available for $229 with free shipping and three free tools (I got it yesterday for $209, not sure what's up with that) instead of its usual $499, and it's never been nearly this cheap anywhere (here it is on Amazon for $407).

There are many V6 variants, all mechanically the same. The difference is in the vacuum head and tool bundle. The deal linked to above is for the “V6 Fluffy”, especially intended for hard floors (though it does carpet, too). Other products are on sale, too, but not as dramatic.

You get to select three tools for free (only when buying directly from Dyson, btw). I chose Mattress Tool (also good for sofas and other upholstered items) and Up Top Tool

Negatives:

1. You need to keep your finger on a button to keep it powered up. Some people say it gives them hand cramps.
2. They advertise “up to 20 mins” on a charge (it’s cordless), but it’s more like 15. And if you use their super-suction mode, it drains battery fast. So between both these issues, this isn't your best choice for 1960's housewife-style vacuuming, wailing through room after room methodically in a big house. It's more for room-or-two-at-a-time.

Big benefit: you can lose the stick and use this as a handheld vacuum/dustbuster, for use on cars, quick spills, etc. Not needing a separate Dustbuster justifies the price, in my view.

Also: You can return it within 30 days for refund (you pay return shipping plus $10 restock).

The Next One Will Be Much, Much Worse

So this guy's toast. Moving on, here's the thing that bothers me. None of the things I despise about Trump's administration (its ignorance, venality, racism, demagoguery, disrespect for institutions, authoritarianism etc.) will have had a lick to do with his downfall.

It's easy to wind the whole Trump mess up into one single ball of badness - the issues I just listed, plus the criminality, obstruction, and treason. But that's not correct. We got super lucky here. We had no right to expect those last three. And the next nativist pussy-grabbing demagogue and would-be tyrant won't come loaded with an array of easy hooks from which to hang him.

Ha. Looks like I already made this point, way back in May:

This all reminds me of one of the strangest experiences of my life. I recounted it here once, back in 2013, and here's a replay:

When I was 22, and building a career as a jazz trombonist here in New York, I spent lots of time in black neighborhoods, where I was tolerated - sometimes a bit more than tolerated, sometimes a bit less. Among the less tolerant incidents came courtesy of a bass player named Tarik. He was friends of friends of mine, and I was kind enough to give him a ride home one night from a gig we'd played. I'm not sure why I'd offered, considering that he was a sour, glowering fellow with a huge chip on his shoulder. But, hey, as a white dude playing jazz, I blithely took my lumps.

As we drove, music played on my tape deck. Tarik asked whose recording it was, and I told him I don't label my cassettes, preferring to listen as freshly as possible, without knowing too much about what I was hearing. He didn't like my answer. In a voice dripping with self-righteous disdain, he replied "Well, that may be fine for you, but this music is my people's heritage, so it's important that I learn as much as I can about it." I of course wanted to stop the car and shove him, his bass, and his heritage out onto the curb. But I remained polite - then and in subsequent highly unpleasant encounters.

Years later, it was in the news that a jazz bassist had been arrested in a FBI sting operation. He'd run a sidelight business teaching various fighting and weapons styles, and had told the wrong person how eager he was to train jihadists, admitting to having sworn an oath of loyalty to Bin Laden. He boasted about his skill at blending in among infidels, always prepared to slit their worthless throats in an instant.

It was, of course, the same guy. Tarik. He's currently locked up as a terrorist, likely forever.

When I heard this, my emotions were complicated. There was a sense of validation (yeah, hey, I told you he was an asshole!). But the crazy scale of it wouldn't quite parse for me....

Generally speaking, assholes who mistreat you don't wind up in the Supermax for terrorism. And deranged, bigoted authoritarian demagogues, similarly, don't normally turn out to have juicily indictable histories of collusion and obstruction, plus a demented propensity for self-incrimination.

Even so, expunging this one will continue to be slow and tedious. Next time, it will be incomparably more difficult. I hope we've learned something. Most of all, I hope we all start voting.