With almost no attempt at subtlety, President Obama is tailoring the implementation of the Affordable Care Act to the Democrats’ electoral convenience. This ought to embarrass Democrats coast to coast — in Hollywood, in the news media, in academia, etc. Are they embarrassed? If not, why not?
I heard John Derbyshire quote someone once — I think it was Mick Jagger. Some rockers had trashed a hotel room or something, and Mick was asked whether they were embarrassed. He answered, “They don’t embarrass easy.”
In our latest podcast, Mona Charen and I have a special guest: Richard Pipes, the historian of Russia. There are few so equipped to comment on the present situation in Ukraine. Pipes has lived an extraordinary life, which he chronicles in his memoirs, Vixi. (The title is Latin for “I have lived.”) I reviewed this book when it came out, in 2003: Go here. I would like to cite two of my favorite tidbits about Pipes.
For my second “tidbit,” I’d like to quote the last two paragraphs of that 2003 review:
At the dawn of 2000, we [National Review] published our “millennium issue,” consisting of big-think pieces by big thinkers, including Pipes. In his essay, Pipes cited a book by Henri Frankfort, Kingship and the Gods (on ancient Near Eastern religion and society). He had the g in “gods” down — in the lower case — but, as it was in the title, I, of course, as editor, put it up. He insisted on its being put back down. “I am a Jew,” he said, “and there is one God, and I will not have the plural word capitalized.” “But Professor Pipes,” I pleaded, “I am as monotheistic as anyone, but this is a matter of style, and to have the word up doesn’t imply any idolatry: It’s just a word in a title, like ‘table’ or ‘chair.’” No, no, said Pipes, it could not be up, title or not.
So, that’s how it appeared in the magazine: Kingship and the gods. It looked weird, and wrong (because it was weird, and wrong) — but, in the Pipesian world, it was really wonderful, and right.
Just one more thing, a third “tidbit”: Pipes, age 16, laid eyes on Hitler. The Nazis had invaded Poland, and Hitler had come to Warsaw, Pipes’s hometown, to take a victory lap. “He rode in an open Mercedes, standing up in the familiar pose, giving the Nazi salute,” writes Pipes in his memoirs. “I thought how easy it would be to assassinate him.”
Care for a Minneapolis journal — a short one? I was in that city over the weekend — St. Paul, too, I suppose (sometimes it’s hard to tell) — and I have some notes for you. Just a few.
For example: Someone told me that, to reach my destination, I needed to cross the river. So I headed for what I thought was the right bridge. As I neared it, I thought, “No, that’s not a bridge over the river. It’s over a big parking lot or something like that.”
But I had forgotten — forgotten that the river was frozen solid. I was looking for something that flowed. This was very different.
Walking around the University of Minnesota campus, I came upon the football stadium — which features the school colors, maroon and gold. These are some of the best school colors anywhere, I think: distinctive, attractive.
I’ve written about this before: The University of Michigan, in my hometown of Ann Arbor? Our colors are supposed to be maize and blue. But, in recent years, those colors have been bright, neon yellow and blue. Yuck, blech.
I walk past the “People’s Center Medical Service.” (I may have the name slightly off.) This gives me a memory. Years ago, when I lived in Washington, D.C., we had a chain of stores called People’s Drugs. A visitor remarked, “Isn’t that sort of, like, commie?”
I see a castle — it looks like a real-live, bona-fide castle. Turns out to be the University of Minnesota Armory.
Lots of kids are walking around with skis — I mean, carrying them, in a case. I see one guy in shorts. It’s 28 degrees. That’s warmer than it has been here in a long time (I’m told).
On the façade of Hillel, there are banners: “Shalom.” “Come to Hillel, even though your mother told you to.”
Next to Hillel is Baldy’s BBQ: “Are you ready for some BBQ?” I have a standing answer to that question. (It’s not no.)
I see the Bell Museum of Natural History. I think, “Shouldn’t that be a museum of maybe technical history?” (“Bell” puts me in mind of Alexander Graham.)
The university has a current slogan, apparently: “Driven to discover.” You can see that on little banners. As I was writing recently, there is something about the human ear that likes alliteration. This is responsible for the success of that disgusting, slanderous expression “war on women.”
I have seen the name Kaufman spelled several ways. I have never, until now, seen it spelled “Coffman” — as in the Coffman Memorial Union.
Care for a language note? Or, another one, rather? I’ve noticed that people in the Twin Cities use the word “perfect” — “perfect” meaning “fine,” “okay,” “nice,” “got it.” “Meet you at the Mary Tyler Moore statue at 3:30?” “Perfect.” “I thought I’d have a bite to eat then give you a call, okay?” “Perfect.”
Speaking of perfection: It’s always a pleasure to see Scott and Sally Johnson. Scott is the Power Line star, and Sally is a star in her own right: known for her cooking, for one thing. She happens to be a native of Lima — Peru, not Ohio (and I can testify from recent experience how good the cooking in the Peruvian capital is). Sally is a lawyer and professor. She and Scott are the parents of Eliana Johnson, NR’s own. There are notable others in the family, too — including a violinist.
Minnesota is known for “nice.” But I doubt that anyone in this state can out-nice the Johnsons.
Augsburg College is right across from the U of M campus. I speak with the president, Paul Pribbenow, and what he says is music to my ears: He likes to bring diversity to campus — a diversity of views, a diversity of thought. That’s the kind of diversity a college should aim for, in my opinion. The rest is mainly superficial.
I have come to participate in the Nobel Peace Prize Forum, held at Augsburg. (It takes place in a rotation of colleges, I understand.) The forum is directed by Maureen Reed — another stellar person, who ought to be a college president herself, in my opinion. It’s amazingly reassuring to find quality people in key positions.
In the airport, before I leave, I have what one ought to have, “when in Rome”: a walleye sandwich — blackened.
On the plane is a prominent Minnesotan, Tim Pawlenty, the ex-governor. He ran for president in 2012. He would have been good. He seems very fit, and relaxed, and patient — with the fellow passengers talking to him. He also seems very young for an ex-governor. An ex two-term governor, at that.
Let’s have a little reader mail. The other day, I was writing about environmental alarums. I grew up during the coming ice age — there would be cross-country skiing in Miami. I also grew up during the population explosion, or “population bomb.” This would cause massive starvation. So, now we’re having global warming, which is supposed to be the ruin of us all. I may be wrong, but I just can’t get all that worked up — having heard wolf cried several times before.
A reader says,
I can still clearly remember standing at the school bus stop one morning in a freezing rain (an Ohio specialty) when I was twelve years old discussing with the guys an article that had just appeared in the Dayton Daily News reporting that the earth had been cooling since 1950. Global cooling was apparently “settled science” in 1966. The only questions we had were whether anyone would still live in Dayton when it was as cold as the North Pole and whether anyone would still want to live in Florida when it had a climate like Dayton’s. I would say that our discussion then was about as intelligent and fact-based as most climate-change discussions today.
A little music? For a review of Sweeney Todd, performed under the auspices of the New York Philharmonic, go here.
End on a joke? Okay. A Roman walks into a bar, holds up two fingers, and orders five beers.
Have a good one!