I don’t know how it is with other writers, but I find that every so often I have more ideas than I know what to do with. I liken it to a housewife who opens the refrigerator to discover she has a couple of tired carrots, a few aging tomatoes, a chunk of beef, and half an onion, and possibly a few potatoes lying around on the verge of sprouting roots. By tomorrow, it might well be too late to salvage any of it, so tonight the family gets stew.
So, to begin with, let me say that I hate affirmative action. I consider it patronizing; it’s reverse racism, plain and simple. Quotas, when I was young, were employed in order to keep well-qualified, usually Jewish, applicants out of certain colleges and medical schools. These days, quotas are used in order to get unqualified students inside the ivied walls. Somebody will have to explain to me why the one is any more justifiable than the other.
When my son was just a little nipper and we’d play games—so long as they were merely games of chance determined by the roll of the dice or the luck of a spin, and not games of skill or strength—I refused to simply let him beat me. I felt that as long as he had a fair shot of winning that was more than enough. He deserved to win on the up and up. I believe, as a society, in the name of fostering their self-esteem, we’re denying our youngsters the opportunity to earn their victories. As a result, American kids who have abominable math and language skills, who can’t identify Brazil on a map or tell you who Einstein was, have an astonishingly high opinion of themselves.
Now that the ACLU has managed to get some loony judge to grant an injunction against executions on the grounds that lethal injections might be painful, I am reminded that when the plugs were pulled on Terri Schiavo, we were assured by all the liberal experts that starvation was totally painless. That being the case, why don’t we just stop feeding these convicted killers?
Is there anybody on earth who actually believes that chicken and tuna fish taste exactly alike? If I started to eat either, and discovered that it tasted anything like the other, I’d immediately go get my stomach pumped.
Leftists ask little more of life than that they be regarded as more compassionate than Dr. Albert Schweitzer on one of his nicer days. It explains why they will always identify with the criminal rather than the victim of a violent crime. The heart of a normal person naturally goes out to the victim and the victim’s family. But how bourgeois is that?! By displaying concern for the perpetrator, the liberal highlights how special he is, how sophisticated, how broad-minded. It is, I contend, a particularly loathsome form of perversion in this country, and it’s more pervasive than rape or pedophilia.