The Misanthrope’s Corner

SHOULD we, can we, ever laugh again? This is the question of the hour, but at the risk of sounding unpatriotic I must admit that I already have—out loud, in fact.

What led up to it was the 653rd discussion of anti-Arab profiling I was watching. Unable to stand any more earnest tributes to color-blind diversity, I turned off the TV and went to the library in search of escapist fare. Needing something to take the pluribus out of the unum, I chose a biography of George V, the present queen’s grandfather, who was beset by inept physicians. The worst was Lord Dawson, who is said to have treated a patient for jaundice for six weeks before discovering he was Chinese.

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Florence King

Florence King was a contributing editor of National Review.

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SHOULD we, can we, ever laugh again? This is the question of the hour, but at the risk of sounding unpatriotic I must admit that I already have—out loud, in fact.

What led up to it was the 653rd discussion of anti-Arab profiling I was watching. Unable to stand any more earnest tributes to color-blind diversity, I turned off the TV and went to the library in search of escapist fare. Needing something to take the pluribus out of the unum, I chose a biography of George V, the present queen’s grandfather, who was beset by inept physicians. The worst was Lord Dawson, who is said to have treated a patient for jaundice for six weeks before discovering he was Chinese.