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you spend much time fiddling with computers and browsing technical
sites on the web, you know all about FAQs. FAQ stands for "Frequently
Asked Question." Well, here are some of the FAQs from my e-mailbag.
Well, actually, I made one of them up, but the others are genuine
FAQs.
Q: "Having attained 15 minutes of fame earlier this year as
The Man Who Hates Chelsea Clinton, when are you going to dump
on the Bush girls?"
A: When they've spent as much of my money (and yours), and as brazenly,
as Chelsea did, and when they've helped their Dad to trash the law
and the Constitution, and to survive impeachment for lying to a
grand jury. And when they've gone out on the stump to help their
Mom turn my state into North Korea. And when they've been late to
church.
Q: "Given that you are not yet a U.S. citizen, where do you get
off passing derogatory comments about America?"
A: I find it hard to believe that I have ever made any derogatory
comments about America, a country I adore. If anyone can come up
with an example, I'll apologize for it. My derogatory comments either
deal with Western society at large — Europe as much as America
— or else take on one small subset of Americans, namely politicians,
bureaucrats, public-sector union bosses, and others who live, directly
or indirectly, on tax revenues. Though merely a resident alien,
I pay full federal, state, and local taxes, and FICA, at levels
that take my breath away. Which is to say, I pay the salaries and
benefits of the tax-eaters, just as much as you do; yet I do
not have the vote. Sounding off on NRO is my way of saying:
"No taxation without representation." If you can get me off the
tax hook, I promise to shut up. Better be quick, though; my citizenship
papers are moving through the system.
Q: "You occasionally refer to your day job. What is your day job?"
A: Freelance financial systems consultant…which is a hifalutin
way of saying I cut code for Wall Street firms at an hourly fee.
Dirty work, but someone has to do it.
Q: "When's your new novel coming out, and what's it about?"
A: Very soon, I hope. Depending on certain factors beyond my control,
either this month, or else late August. It's about China, Tibet,
Wall Street, and Italian opera.
Q: "Your wife is Chinese. Is she on board with all the rude things
you write about China?"
A: I don't write rude things about China. I write rude things about
the Chinese Communist Party, which is a loathsome clique of gangsters,
a blight on the Chinese people (not to mention the people of Tibet,
Eastern Turkestan, Taiwan, and Mongolia) and a serious danger to
the peace of the world. My wife and I both pray for the day when
China's long night of despotism comes to an end at last, and freedom's
morning breaks over that beautiful, tragic land.
Q: "What's your favorite movie?"
A: Lonely Are the Brave (Kirk Douglas, Walter Matthau).
Q: "When you read for pleasure, what do you read?"
A: I have very little time to read for pleasure, I am very,
very sorry to say. I mostly read books I am paid to read, for review
or as background to an article. I am currently reading two books
just for pleasure: Jonathan
Gathorne-Hardy's life of sex researcher Alfred Kinsey, and Roger
Scruton's book of essays,
The Philosopher on Dover Beach. The last piece of fiction
I read without being paid to was Jack Higgins's Day
of Reckoning, which was not very good, but better than most
of the "literary" fiction I get for review.
Q: "If there were a Derbyshire Amendment to the U.S. Constitution,
what would it be?"
A: It would ban labor unions in the public sector, including teacher
and police unions.
Q: "Given that you think homosexuality is unhealthy because it spreads
AIDS, and given that AIDS is spread in Africa mainly by heterosexual
intercourse, do you think heterosexuality is also unhealthy?"
A: Yes, I most certainly do think that the African style
of heterosexuality, with very high levels of promiscuity and prostitution,
and the weird, disgusting phenomenon of "dry sex," is unhealthy.
Q: "What will you do if your son (currently age 6) or your daughter
(8) decides to live as a homosexual?"
A: I'll cope, as loving parents generally do, bless them all. But
I would gladly give an arm to prevent it happening. A reader has
suggested the following thought experiment. Imagine that tomorrow
some drug company were to announce a new drug with the following
properties: (1) If taken by a pregnant woman during her second trimester,
it would infallibly guarantee that the baby be born and grow up
heterosexual, and (2) It had absolutely no harmful side effects
whatsoever on either mother or child. Question: In which direction
do you think that company's share price would move?
Q: "Why don't you go to church more often?"
A: Sloth.
Q: "Why didn't you answer my e-mail?"
A: Dealing with reader e-mail isn't easy. I am one of the dwindling
band of columnists that still posts an e-address for readers to
reply to. This, I frankly admit, is for selfish reasons. I learn
a lot from reader e-mails, and even get ideas for columns from them.
(No, you don't make commission. Glory has no price.) To be sure,
a lot of e-mails come in from bores, cranks, and lunatics, but there
are many more from thoughtful people who have something instructive
or interesting to say. Of course, I would reply to all e-mails if
I could, and I feel bad that I can't. It's as if you were to give
a lecture, and, at the end of the lecture, stepping down from the
podium, get accosted by a member of the audience saying: "Thank
you for the talk, Mr. Derbyshire, but I'd just like to take you
up on something you said…". What are you going to do, turn
on your heel and walk away from that person? Not if you have any
manners. However, it is a matter of sheer numbers. An average column
brings in 70-80 e-mails. Imagine 70 people waiting at the foot of
the podium. If I say anything controversial, it goes up to 200-300.
I do conscientiously read all of them (except the ones from
planet Zvorx), but cannot possibly answer all. I do my best, and
I think am currently batting around .500, but you have to take pot
luck. Catch me on a slack day, when I don't much feel like doing
real work, and I'll give you a thought-out answer. (I do not
use boilerplate in my responses.) Catch me on a double-deadline
day, when the day job is acting up too, and you're going to get
lost in the "pending" folder, which now occupies most of my 80-Gb
hard disk. Sorry. But everything non-abusive gets read. And,
where appropriate, plagiarized.
Q: "Do you get hate e-mail? Is it scary?"
A: Anyone who writes for the public gets hate mail. There are some
very peculiar people out there. With a little experience, though,
you can easily spot hate e-mail from the opening words. Anything
beginning: "You, Sir,…," for example, is invariably from a
maniac. Often they declare themselves right there in the subject
line, so you don't even have to open the damn thing: Subject line,
"You suck" is a pretty reliable clue, I have found. Either way you
can hit the "delete" button in short order and have the satisfaction
of knowing the lunatic spent more time composing his foam-flecked
little philippic than you did dealing with it. Once in a while someone
slips in under your radar, though, so that you do end up actually
reading a hate e-mail as far as the main point. These pieces have
a certain grisly fascination for me. My favorite to date is the
chap who inquired politely about the location of my mother's grave…so
that he could do Number One on it. The only ones I find scary are
those from people who assume that because I hold an opinion different
from theirs I must therefore be "sick" and in need of "treatment".
Sometimes these sinister little missives are couched in terms of
the most tender, compassionate concern. ("Do please seek
help, I beg you…" — Okay, Hillary.) These are creepy
— pure U.S.S.R. All lefties are, fundamentally, totalitarians
who believe dissent is either wicked or diseased.
Q: "I want to be Derb. How can I attain this goal?"
A: [Yes, I really do get these, surprisingly often.] You do notwant
to be me. I drive an 8-year-old car and own a 75-year-old house
with a damp basement. My wife and I have two small children who,
in their normal mode of activity, make more noise than WW2, and
who, if I bought them Mount Rushmore as a Christmas present, would
manage to lose it inside an hour. I have bad teeth, flat feet, a
weak chin, receding hair, love handles and a reconstructed left
ankle (car crash). You don't want to be Derb. You want to be Brad
Pitt.
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