The Misanthrope’s Corner

YOU know what I like about this magazine? I never hear a word about “the National Review family.” We must be the only outfit left that doesn’t push the huddle-and-cuddle organizing principle now rampant in American business, political, and cultural life.

The word “family” has become ubiquitous, right up there with those automatic ejaculations of “Absolutely!” that have replaced the simple “yes.” At the rate we’re going, it threatens to join “aloha” and “ciao” as an everything word that means whatever we need it to mean. Is the phone ringing? Pick it up and say “Family.” Spot an acquaintance on the bus? “Family. How’s things?” Get off before he does? “See you around. Family.”

About the Author

Florence King

Florence King was a contributing editor of National Review.

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YOU know what I like about this magazine? I never hear a word about “the National Review family.” We must be the only outfit left that doesn’t push the huddle-and-cuddle organizing principle now rampant in American business, political, and cultural life.

The word “family” has become ubiquitous, right up there with those automatic ejaculations of “Absolutely!” that have replaced the simple “yes.” At the rate we’re going, it threatens to join “aloha” and “ciao” as an everything word that means whatever we need it to mean. Is the phone ringing? Pick it up and say “Family.” Spot an acquaintance on the bus? “Family. How’s things?” Get off before he does? “See you around. Family.”