On Donald Trump’s Threat

From what I have seen on talk shows and have read online, it seems that most people think that Donald Trump is threatening to bring up Bill Clinton’s adulterous affairs if Hillary attacks Trump for sexism.  A few have noted that Trump’s divorces can be thrown back in his face if he makes such an attack.

But let us not forget the kind of man Trump is.  He will not be content to talk about Monica Lewinsky, Paula Jones, Kathleen Willey, and the related charges of sexual harassment, perjury, and obstruction of justice, though he will probably mention these women and those charges as a way of warming up his crowd.  If Trump gets the Republican nomination and Hillary accuses him of sexism, he will go for the jugular.  He will bring up the rape of Juanita Broaddrick.  And as he recounts what Broaddrick alleged, it will lose nothing in the telling.  He will go into graphic detail about the way Bill Clinton allegedly held her down, biting her lip to keep her from trying to get away, and then telling her to put some ice on her swollen lip as he walked out the door.

Many have argued that Hillary should not be held accountable for the sins of her husband.  But the association of ideas is a more primitive form of thinking than reason and nice moral distinctions, which is why Caesar’s wife must be beyond reproach.

However, there is a deeper problem that Hillary must confront that cannot be dismissed simply by saying that it is unfair to hold a wife responsible for her husband’s behavior.  At some point during the campaign, Hillary will be asked this question:  “Do you believe Juanita Broaddrick?”  It is unthinkable that she will say, “Yes, she is telling the truth.  Bill raped that woman.”  Therefore, she must say that Broaddrick is lying.  This will put her in an untenable position.

One aspect of the war on women with which Republicans are often charged is their tendency not to take women seriously when they claim to have been raped.  We Democrats often argue that women are afraid to come forward when they are raped, fearing they will be vilified, accused of being a slut, of wanting attention, of lying.  We further argue that we must encourage women to come forward when they have been sexually assaulted and not let the men who violated them go unpunished.  And I am sure that Hillary would agree with all that, in general.

But what will she say when asked, “Why don’t you believe Juanita Broaddrick?”  And I don’t mean, what will she say if asked that question on Meet the Press?  I mean, what will she say when Donald Trump asks her that question during a presidential debate?

Hillary should back down from Trump’s threat and refrain from accusing him of sexism, however deserved the charge may be.  He is too dangerous.

Reflections on the Trojan Horse

The story about the Trojan horse, as it comes to us from various sources, is basically this.  After ten years of failing to conquer Troy, Odysseus came up with a plan to get inside the walls of that city.  He had the Greeks build a giant wooden horse, in which thirty or so Greeks hid themselves.  The rest of the Greeks then pretended to sail away, leaving only Sinon behind, who pretended to have been abandoned.  He then told the Trojans that the horse had been built as an offering to Athena, so that she would provide the Greeks with safe passage home.  Sinon then went on to explain that the horse was purposely built too big for the Trojans to take into their city, lest Athena would favor the Trojans instead of the Greeks.  After dismissing a few doubters, the Trojans tore down part of their wall so that they could get the horse inside.  That night, Sinon signaled the Greeks with a beacon that the horse was within the walls, and the Greeks returned.  Meanwhile, the Greeks within the horse slipped out, killed the guards, opened the gate, and let in the rest of the Greeks, who then sacked Troy.

This story is completely messed up.  I am not worried about what really happened at Troy, whether the so-called wooden horse was really a battering ram as some have speculated.  Rather, it is the story as such that confounds me.  Now, I do not claim to have done exhaustive research on this subject, but I have yet to find anyone who addresses the absurdity that has bothered me since I read The Odyssey and The Aeneid when I was in college.  I have finally decided to spell out what troubles me and then to give my version of how the story came to be in its present form for the perusal and consideration of those who might read this.

In a nutshell, the problem is this.  If the Greeks wanted the Trojans to drag the horse within the walls, would it not have made more sense to make sure it was small enough to pass through the gates without difficulty?  Alternatively, once the Trojans tore down part of the wall, the men inside the horse became superfluous.  Once a portion of the wall was torn down, the Greek army could have entered through the breach without waiting to be let in by the men hidden inside the horse.

In casual conversations with some of my friends, a couple of solutions have been offered.  One is that the wall was repaired right after it was torn down.  However, it is unlikely that there would have been enough time for the Trojans to do that.  The other is that it was only the arch over the gate that had to be torn down to let the horse’s head through.  But if it was only the arch, why wasn’t it stated that way in the story, instead of misleading us by referring to the wall?  In any event, that brings us back to the original question: Why make the horse too big to get through the gate in the first place?

It is my hypothesis that there were two stories.  In the original story, the Greeks simply built a big wooden horse.  There was no one hidden inside.  Their idea was that by building the horse too big to get through the gate, the Trojans would have to tear down part of the wall to get it into the city, especially when Sinon explained the reason for the horse’s size.  “We’ll show those Greeks,” we can almost hear the Trojans saying as they proceeded to demolish enough of the wall to get the horse through.  That night, the Greeks returned and marched right in through the opening.  What I like about that plan is that there is no risk, except perhaps to Sinon.  If the Trojans did not fall for it, the Greeks could simply return and continue the war.

Later, another poet came up with the idea of having men hidden inside the horse, who then slip out and open the gate.  In this version, the horse is not too big to get through the gate.  Although the first version made for a good story on its own, once the idea of having men inside the horse was introduced, with the risk that the Trojans might set fire to the horse instead, which they almost did, there was no going back to the original tale.  Unfortunately, the part about tearing down a section of the wall was already part of the tradition and could not be purged from the story as it should have been, the result being that it remained as an accretion to the second story, notwithstanding the inherent inconsistency.

If this theory about there being two versions is not original with me, I would be interested in knowing who first came up with it.  If it is original with me, I can live with that.

Fellini Satyricon (1969)

There are certain works of fiction, be they in the form of novels or movies, that are much acclaimed by critics and connoisseurs of the avant garde, but which leave most of us completely bewildered as to what those people see in them.  We don’t enjoy them, and we don’t learn anything from them.  We force ourselves to get through them just to see what the big deal is all about, and we end up feeling we have endured an unpleasant experience that has wasted our time.  Whenever you come across a novel or a movie like that, ask yourself this question, “Does the work of fiction involve a lot of sex, especially the kind that is vulgar and obscene?”  If the answer is “Yes,” then the mystery is solved, especially if the work of fiction was censored or banned somewhere.  In this lies the reason for all the undeserved praise for novels such as James Joyce’s Ulysses, Marcel Proust’s In Search Lost Time, and Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer, and for movies such as Man of Flowers (1983), Belle de Jour (1967), Last Tango in Paris (1972), and, of course, Fellini Satyricon.

Why do some people praise novels or movies like these?  One reason may be that they actually enjoyed them or learned something from them.  That’s a horrible thought!  The other may be that expressing their appreciation for these novels or movies gives them a feeling of superiority over those of us who condemn them:  they come across as enlightened, cosmopolitan aesthetes, while we look like prudish, parochial philistines.

Fellini Satyricon is mostly about a couple of pederasts fighting over a catamite, who silently sits there with a big, shit-eating grin like Harpo Marx.  The catamite is Gitone (Max Born), who prefers Ascilto (Hiram Keller) over Encolpio (Martin Potter) for his lover.  And this is only the beginning of Encolpio’s woes in this picaresque tale in which Encolpio always ends up as the butt of whatever deviance is at hand, while Ascilto is there to gloat and have a laugh at Encolpio’s expense.  Interspersed with that story is a lot of other stuff that will make you want to take a bath when the movie is over.  Even the way these people eat is perverted and will leave you feeling queasy.

So, you know who you are.  If you are the type who loved reading Ulysses or watching The Last Tango in Paris, then Fellini Satyricon is the movie for you.  If not, then you have been duly warned.

The Phantom Empire (1935)

The Phantom Empire is the greatest serial ever made.  It runs for 245 minutes, and footage from this serial was edited down to 70 minutes in order to make a movie out of it, alternatively titled Radio Ranch or Men with Steel Faces.  The movie version loses much of the camp value of the serial, however.  Also lost is the way it cheats with the cliffhangers, letting us think something terrible happened, only to show something different at the beginning of the next chapter.  Subsequent chapters after the first begin with a stirring piece of music that sounds almost too good to be original with this serial.

Gene Autry, playing himself, is half-owner of Radio Ranch, where people come to stay as paying guests and from which Autry broadcasts a radio program every day.  In the first chapter, after singing a song, he introduces Frankie Baxter (Frankie Darro) and his sister Betsy Baxter (Betsy King Ross), his partner’s children, who head a club sponsored by Radio Ranch called National Thunder Riders or Junior Thunder Riders.  They tell about how one day they saw a bunch of men with capes and helmets riding horses that sounded like thunder, though they do not know who those men were.  Nevertheless, Frankie and Betsy formed the club, the members of which wear capes and helmets modeled after the ones worn by the original Thunder Riders, as they call them.  Other kids are encouraged to visit the ranch and join the club, or they can start their own local fan club and get patterns so that their mothers can make Thunder Rider costumes for them.

Then Autry narrates the next installment of a serial within this serial in which the Junior Thunder Riders ride to the rescue to save a man and his wife from a bunch of bandits.  You might think that since this is a radio serial, only dialogue and sound effects would be involved, but they actually act out the parts, almost as if it were being filmed, which, I guess, in a way it is.  Perhaps not so much anymore, but there was a time when children would see a Western at a theater on Saturday morning and then want to play cowboys and Indians that afternoon.  This serial took that one step further by having the children within the story playing at what the grownups were doing, even to the point of becoming involved with the grownup story itself, thereby making it easier for the children in the audience to imagine they were part of the story when they acted out the parts later on.

Meanwhile, a bunch of men fly in by airplane, who we quickly figure are up to no good.  One of them, Professor Beetson, believes that somewhere underneath Radio Ranch is Murania, populated by descendants of an ancient city, who moved underground to escape the glaciers a hundred thousand years ago.  Beetson believes that if they can locate Murania, they will find valuable deposits of radium and secrets that have been lost to the world, technology based on their knowledge of radiation.  Their plan is to get rid of Autry by causing him to miss a broadcast, which will result in the loss of his radio contract.  Or they can just kill him.  Either way, they figure the ranch will become deserted, giving them the freedom to look for Murania without being disturbed.  This plot point leads to several ludicrous situations in which Autry is fleeing from the Thunder Riders or from the scientists, in danger of losing his life, and right in the middle of it all has to worry about getting back to the ranch in time to sing another song.

All this is on the surface.  Meanwhile, twenty-five thousand feet below the ranch is Murania, where the original Thunder Riders live, when they are not galloping about on the surface for whatever reason.  There are, of course, the expected absurdities in this lost city, such as that everyone speaks English.  Muranians cannot breathe surface air, so they have to wear helmets that supply them with oxygen whenever they leave their city.  (Don’t look at me, that’s the explanation that is given.)  And yet, although Muranians cannot breathe surface air, surface people have no trouble breathing Muranian air.  Also peculiar is the mixture of ancient and futuristic technology.  The Muranians have television, allowing their ruler, Queen Tika, to see and hear what is going on anywhere on the planet.  They have all sorts of advanced weaponry, such as guided missiles and ray guns, and yet the guards carry spears.  They have robots to perform the manual labor, but the ones that are armed have swords.  Moreover, when the Thunder Riders need to enter or leave Murania, they have a robot turn a crank to open the door, instead of simply having the equivalent of a garage-door opener.

Their government seems to be a bit of a mixture as well.  As noted, there is a queen who rules over her subjects.  However, she refers to one of the wounded soldiers as a “comrade,” a term not normally used in monarchies, but which would have suggested a communist state like the Soviet Union in 1935.  And there is reference to the “secret police.”  When she watches the television to see what is going on in the world, she is contemptuous of the insanity she witnesses, calling the surface people fools, who are always in a hurry, their lives full of death and suffering.  You might think from this that Murania must be an enlightened utopia, especially when she declares that their civilization is not only advanced, but also serene.  But when the captain of the Thunder Riders fails to capture Autry as she commanded, she starts to put him to death for incompetence, but then decides that lashes with a whip will be a better punishment.  In fact, she routinely condemns her officers to the “Death Chamber,” after which their charred bodies are sent to the “Cavern of Doom,” so we wonder just how serene her subjects can be under the circumstances.  She wants Autry captured so that she can drive everyone off Radio Ranch, because she fears that surface people will discover Murania and invade it.  Of course, it is Autry’s very presence at Radio Ranch that is preventing the discovery of Murania by Beetson and others, as she well knows from watching that television of hers, which allows her to overhear Beetson discussing his plans.  But she figures on getting rid of Autry’s Radio Ranch first, Beetson’s gang later.

When the captain fails a second time, she commands Lord Argo to put him to death in the Lightening Chamber.  But once inside, Argo tells the captain that every time someone is supposedly put to death (thirty-seven so far this year), he saves him so he can be part of the rebellion he is planning.  The captain agrees to join the rebellion, and so his execution is faked.  Though Queen Tika has people whipped or executed for merely failing to carry out her orders, despite their best efforts, yet when she finds out about the rebellion, she cannot understand why people are turning against her.  After all, she knows she has been a good queen, because that is what her underlings tell her when they are asked.  Later, Betsy says what most of us have been thinking, that Queen Tika reminds us of the one in Alice in Wonderland, always shouting, “Off with his head.”

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the Junior Thunder Riders have parallels to Murania beyond merely fashioning themselves after the Muranian Thunder Riders.  Frankie has a secret laboratory on the second floor of a barn in which he invents gadgets, just as scientists in Murania continue to develop new technology down below.  While the Muranians have wireless telephones, the Junior Thunder Riders can be summoned to the secret laboratory with a light bulb moving up through the roof blinking on and off in Morse code.  While the Muranians below the surface watch the world on their television, the Junior Thunder Riders watch what is happening on Radio Ranch with a periscope that peeps through that same hole.  And just as the Muranians live secretly underground, the Junior Thunder Riders have a secret underground passageway beneath the barn leading out of the side of a hill much as the entrance to Murania is on the side of a mountain.  Just as we see only one female in Murania, Queen Tika, so too is there only one female in the Junior Thunder Riders, Betsy.  In one sense, however, the parallel is one of contrast:  while the Junior Thunder Riders consist only of children, the Muranians seem to consist only of adults.  Of course, that might make sense if the Queen is the only woman in the place.  In any event, she refers to Frankie and Betsy as “undeveloped surface creatures,” almost as if the very idea of children is one unfamiliar to Muranians.

And just because these are not enough plot complications, Autry is framed by the scientists for killing his partner, and so in addition to being hunted by Beetson’s gang and the Muranian Thunder Riders, he is also being pursued by the sheriff, all of which makes that daily broadcast a bit challenging.  Fortunately, he has the Junior Thunder Riders to help him in that regard.

Eventually, Autry is captured and brought to Murania, but he escapes.  Later, Frankie and Betsy are captured and brought to Murania, but then they escape too.  To block the path of anyone not authorized to pass by, there is a robot standing off to the side with a sword held erect.  When activated by a button on its chest, an infraray tells it if someone is trying to pass, at which point it comes down repeatedly with its sword.  So, when Frankie and Betsy are trying to escape and are blocked by that robot, Frankie presses the off button on the robot’s chest, and then they go right past it without a problem.

The rebels do not intend to establish a democracy, but rather simply want power, which promises to result in an even more repressive society than the one run by the queen.  As a result, Autry and his friends team up with the queen, who aids them in their escape.  However, in the course of the rebellion, all of Murania is wiped out by the latest advance in weaponry, an atom smasher capable of destroying the entire universe, but which ends up destroying itself instead.

Back on the surface, Beetson confesses to killing Autry’s partner, daring Autry to try to prove it.  However, thanks to a piece of equipment Frankie brought back from Murania, the confession is caught on television, and the bad guys are arrested, after which Autry makes it back to the ranch in time for his final broadcast for the season.

The Apu Trilogy (1955, 1956, and 1959)

The Apu Trilogy consists of three movies made in India.  For some reason, a lot of people like these movies, not the least of which are the professional critics.  My suspicion is that the movies are given a foreign-film handicap, for if something of this quality had been produced in Hollywood, I suspect it would have met with a very different reception.  In any event, this review is not intended for those who admire these movies, for if this is what entertains them, why should I object to that?  Rather, this is a review for people like me, for those who feel pressured by film critics to watch these films, but who dread the prospect of doing so and keep putting it off.  Perhaps this review will help them decide if these movies are worth the effort.

Pather Panchali (1955) is the first movie in this trilogy.  Notwithstanding the emphasis given to the character Apu in the title of this trilogy, this first movie really seems to be about his mother, Sarbojaya Ray, who is so beset by grinding poverty that she has a hard time being nice to her family.  Her elderly cousin, Indir, also called “Auntie,” is an old woman who can barely see or walk, and Sarbojaya treats her miserably, eventually driving her away and forcing her to die in the woods.  Sarbojaya’s husband, Harihar Ray, comes across as a slacker and a dreamer (he thinks he can make money by writing plays), but maybe he is just a victim of the caste system.  Her daughter, Durga, is a thief, but she is likable.  Finally, there is Apu, who will play a larger role in the sequels.  After his sister dies, Apu destroys something she stole so no one will know, even though everyone really knows anyway.  While Harihar is away for months without sending money, a storm hits and destroys their house because he never got around to making the needed repairs.  This forces them to move to the city.

Aparajito (1956) is the second movie in this trilogy, which picks up the story a few years later.  The first part of the movie has a strange subplot that goes nowhere.  Nanda is the upstairs neighbor of the Ray family.  The first time he shows up to give Harihar a calendar, Sarbojaya pulls her head scarf over more of her hair and leaves the room. The second time he makes an appearance, she hears him coming, pulls the scarf over her head, and hides until he has gone upstairs.

When she needs some matches, she asks Apu about him, and then tells Apu to ask him for just two matches, as if she dreadfully feared being in his debt for an entire box of matches. Apu goes upstairs and watches him surreptitiously, as if Nanda were doing something of significance, but all he does is unwrap a bottle of booze. Apu asks for just two matches, but Nanda gives him the entire box, saying he has plenty and that Sarbojaya needn’t return them.

Then, while Harihar is sick and Sarbojaya is preparing food, Nanda enters her kitchen to ask her if she has some paan, something that is chewed for pleasure in India, sort of like tobacco. It doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it is filmed as if his approach is ominous. She is fearful and then turns on him, furiously telling him to get out, holding some kind of utensil as if it were a weapon. When he leaves, she breathes heavily, as if she just escaped being raped.  Of course, if she had given him some paan, it would have been a way of paying him back for the matches, thereby discharging that sexually compromising debt.

Seriously now, how paranoid would she have to be to think Nanda is some lascivious lecher, trying to sneak a peek at her hair when he comes to visit Harihar, and then trying to take advantage of her on account of those matches, intending to have his way with her right there in the kitchen amongst the pots and pans?  Or has Nanda violated some terrible taboo, like, “Thou shalt not ask thy neighbor’s wife for paan”?   Of course, if this is such a big deal in India, maybe it would help if they had doors they could close to keep neighbors from just wandering in without knocking.  If they are too poor to afford doors, how about one of those velour ropes and a couple of stanchions?  With all that buildup, we expect some great climactic scene, or at least some explanation at to what this is all about, and, more importantly, what it has to do with the rest of the movie.  However, the entire subplot comes to an abrupt, unresolved end.

Anyway, once we get past that, Harihar dies of a fever.  Sarbojaya’s daughter, Durga, died in the previous movie, and soon Apu wants to do more than be a priest like his father, which means going away to be educated.  Sarbojaya is terribly lonely, but she does not want to remarry.  Apu, on the other hand, wants to live his own life, which means not spending as much time with his mother as she would like.  He lies to her in a letter, telling her he cannot come visit her on the holidays, even though he did get a couple of days off.  Hoping against hope that he will come see her anyway, she imagines hearing his voice and runs to the door, but sees only fireflies in the darkness.  Shortly thereafter, he gets a letter telling him she is ill, and by the time he gets home, she has died.  I guess we are supposed to feel sorry for her, but I can’t help but wonder if she ever thought about how Auntie felt, having to starve to death, alone and unloved, after Sarbojaya drove her away.

Apu cries over the death of his mother, a death made all the more painful by the lie he told her.  On the bright side, he will finally be free to live his own life.  An elderly relative does his best to prevent Apu from so doing, however, telling him it is time to become a priest, same as his father, but Apu knows how well that turned out, so he ignores these admonitions and just leaves.

The World of Apu ( 1959) is the final installment of this trilogy.  Having dodged his duty to become a priest, Apu thinks he is finally free to live his own life, but wouldn’t you know it, he gets invited to a wedding by Pulu, a friend of his, and ends up having to marry the bride himself, because the groom turns out to be crazy, and if she does not marry by the appointed hour, she’ll be ruined for life because no one will ever marry her.  Apu should have just sent a gift with a note saying he would be unable to attend.  That’s what I always do.

Her parents are rich, so you figure that since this is India and everything, there should be a sizable dowry.  But no, not a brass farthing.  However, Apu and Aparna, for that is her name, end up being poor but happy.  She gets pregnant, and so, after about the seventh month, she goes home to her parents to have the baby.  When one of her relatives shows up to tell Apu that she died giving birth, Apu punches him right in the mouth.  Well, everyone grieves in his own way.

Apu writes to Pulu that because he is now free to live his own life, he intends to travel.  Of course, we wonder how free he can be, inasmuch as Aparna’s baby lived.  No problem, he just dumps the kid on her parents.

Apu contemplates suicide, standing near the tracks as a train approaches, apparently planning on flinging his body onto those tracks at the last minute.  But the train runs over a pig instead, which puts him right out of the mood.  In the end, he settles for just throwing away the manuscript of the novel he had been working on, presumably because he realizes that he was no better at writing than his father was.

While Apu wanders around aimlessly for five years, his father-in-law becomes increasingly upset that Apu is not taking care of his own son, Kajal.  Pulu, who was Aparna’s cousin, goes looking for him.  Apu says he cannot take care of Kajal (whose name he did not even know) because Kajal would remind him of Aparna.  Of course, Kajal probably reminds Aparna’s parents of their dead daughter every day, but Apu thinks only of his own grief, not what others may be feeling.  Five years is a long time to grieve, but Apu still thinks it is a good excuse for not doing his duty as a parent when Pulu reminds him of it.  Being so reminded angers Apu, and knowing how Apu has a way of punching people out when they tell him something he does not want to hear, we wonder if Pulu will also get a smack in the mouth.  He doesn’t, so I guess Apu has grown wise in his years of travel.  Or maybe he just figures Pulu is big enough to give him the ass-whipping he needs.

Apu finally relents and goes to see his father-in-law, not to take care of Kajal personally, but to make arrangements for Kajal to go to a boarding school so that Apu can continue to live his own life, wallowing in the great suffering of his soul.  But then, just like your basic Hollywood melodrama, there is a total narrative rupture at the last minute, when Apu decides to take his son with him and care for him himself, the two of them living happily ever after.

The Believer (2001)

The Believer is about a Jew, Danny Balint (Ryan Gosling), who became an antisemite.  If that seems like a contradiction, the theme of this movie is that antisemitism is full of contradictions, and Danny is the physical embodiment of these contradictions.

As the movie opens, we see Danny working out with dumbbells, making it clear that strength is important to him.  His head is shaved, and on his arm we see a tattoo of the triskele.  What we hear, however, is a flashback to a time when Danny was a young boy in school. The teacher is telling the story of when God told Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac.  The teacher asks the class what the meaning of the story is, and a boy gives the standard answer, that it was “a test of Abraham’s faith and devotion to God.”  Then the teacher calls on Danny, noting, somewhat derisively, that as usual Danny has something to add.  Danny replies that it is not about Abraham’s faith, but about God’s power:  “God says, ‘You know how powerful I am?  I can make you do anything I want, no matter how stupid.  Even kill your own son, because I’m everything and you’re nothing.’”

The scene changes to a subway station, where we see a teenager wearing a yarmulke.  He looks down as he walks, as if he is afraid to look anyone in the eye.  He gets on the subway, sits down, and opens a textbook, with his shoulders squeezed together, as if trying to make himself as small as possible.  He wants for all the world to be left alone.  But it is no good, because Danny sees him. Filled with hatred, Danny begins stepping on the boys shoes, until the boy gets off the train.  Danny follows him knocks the book out of his hand.  The boy just stands there meekly.  Danny picks up the book and sees that it is a textbook from an institution that teaches Orthodox Judaism.  Danny hits the boy, knocking him down, and then starts kicking him.  As he does so, he alludes to the story of Abraham, asking the boy if he thinks this is a test, if God is going to provide a ram instead of him.

Then he tells the boy to hit him.  “Do me a favor.  Why don’t you fucking hit me.  OK?  Hit me!  Hit me! Hit me!  Hit me!  Fucking hit me, please!  You fucking kike!”  At first, this sounds like the standard act of a bully, sticking his chin out, daring someone to hit him, after which he intends to beat him up. But it is more than that.  Danny really wants the boy to hit him.  And that is because what Danny hates about Jews is that they won’t fight, and he wants this boy to fight.

Danny is not alone in thinking this.  In Edna Ferber’s novel Cimarron, there is a “town Jew” named Sol Levy.  When a bunch of bullies start terrorizing him by shooting near his feet and other parts of his body, he just stands there and takes it.  Ferber says, “He had no weapon.  He would not have known how to use it if he had possessed one.  He was not of a race of fighters.”  Like Danny, Ferber was a Jew herself.  As both of them must have been fully aware, the Old Testament is full of stories about Hebrews fighting.

Danny locates a fascist group on the internet headed by Curtis Zampf (Billy Zane), and he and three of his friends attend a meeting, where Zampf is comparing the good old days with the way things are now.  He says that is why he is a fascist, because only a fascist government can straighten things out.  When a man asks about race, Zampf says this isn’t the time for that, even though he did make reference to all the black faces one now sees in the neighborhood.  Danny interrupts, saying that race is central to the problem, that the modern world is a Jewish disease, the disease of abstraction. And the solution to that disease, he says, is “killing Jews.”  Zampf objects, saying that it would be Germany all over again.  “Isn’t that what we want?” Danny replies, “Germany all over again, only done right this time?”  Later in the movie, when one of his neo-Nazi friends argues that the holocaust was a hoax, Danny replies, “If Hitler didn’t kill six million Jews, why in the hell is he a hero?”

Danny says that people hate Jews, but then qualifies it:  “The very word [Jew] makes their skin crawl. And it’s not even hate.  It’s the way you feel when a rat runs across the floor.  You want to step on it. You just want to crush it.”  So, it’s a kind of hate arising out of disgust.  Danny says, “You don’t even know why.  It’s a physical reaction, and everyone feels it.”  But as we have already seen, from the example of the Jewish boy he bullied, as well as the story of God and Abraham, it is the refusal of the Jew to fight back that Danny believes is the cause of that feeling of disgust.

In another flashback to that day in the classroom, we hear a student point out that Abraham never killed Isaac, because God provided a ram as a substitute.  First, Danny argues that Abraham really did kill Isaac on that day, just as God wanted, but that the story was changed later to make it more acceptable.  Then Danny points out that even if the traditional story was the correct one, once Abraham raised his hand with the knife in order to plunge it in, he had already killed Isaac in his heart.  Abraham, Danny continues, would never have been able to forget that and neither would Isaac.  Furthermore, he says, the whole Jewish people were permanently scarred as a result.

One of the people at the meeting headed by Zampf was a free-lance reporter, Guy Danielsen, who is doing research on right-wing groups.  When Danny started speaking, he could immediately see that there was something special about Danny’s ideas.  He manages to get Danny to agree to an interview.  Guy asks Danny to elaborate on his remark at the meeting to the effect that the modern world is a Jewish disease.  Danny begins, “In this racialist movement we believe there is a hierarchy of races.  You know, whites at the top, blacks at the bottom.  Asians, Arabs, Latins somewhere in between.”

Conspicuous by its absence is the place of the Jews in this hierarchy.  It is almost as if the Jews cannot be ranked with the rest because they are qualitatively different from the other races, “because Jews, Judaism, “Danny says, “it’s like a sickness.”  Guy presses Danny about the Jewish disease.

Danny begins by using sexuality as an example.  He asserts that Jews are obsessed with oral sex because a Jew is essentially female:

Real men—white, Christian men—we fuck a woman.  We make her come with our cocks. But a Jew doesn’t like to penetrate and thrust.  He can’t assert himself in that way, so he resorts to these perversions….  So after a woman’s had a Jewish man, she’s ruined.  She never wants to be with a normal partner again.

When Guy asks if that means the Jew is a better lover, Danny says it does not.  “I said he gives pleasure. That’s actually a weakness.”

This notion that a Jew is essentially female goes with his views that Jews will not fight, because physical fighting tends to be a masculine trait.  As for this last remark, that giving pleasure is a weakness, it is interesting that Danny’s girlfriend, Carla Moebius, whom he met at the Zampf meeting, told Danny she wanted him to hurt her just before they had sex, and the next morning she had a bruise on her mouth.

Danny continues:

Look, the Jews clearly control the media and the banks.  Investment banks, not the commercial ones, but the point is, they carry out in those realms the exact same principles they display in sexuality. They undermine traditional life and they deracinate society. Deracinate.  Tear out the roots.  A real people derives its genius from the land, from the sun, from the sea, from the soil.  That is how they know themselves.  But Jews don’t even have soil.

Guy makes the obvious objection that Jews in Israel have their own soil, their own country, but Danny responds that the Israelis are not Jews.

In a way, Danny is almost obliged to say something like that, if he wants to maintain his view that Jews will not fight, for we know that Israelis fight.  This claim that Israelis are not Jews strikes us as preposterous, but this is not the first time I have heard this.  Most notably, Robert Ardrey’s The Territorial Imperative is, not surprisingly, a book about the importance that territory plays in the behavior of many animals, including man.  He argues that Jews are not a race the way Caucasians or Negroes are, but are a group of people distinguished by their lack of territory.  Once they acquired territory, the citizens of Israel ceased to be Jews.  According to Ardrey, people in Israel are different in every way from the Jews of the Diaspora:

It is not just physique.  It is posture, a manner of walking, a manner of speaking, a manner of thought. The “Jewish personality” has vanished, replaced by that of the Israeli, a being as confident, as resolute, and as willing to do battle as a roebuck on his wooded acres.  You go to a party in Tel-Aviv and someone asks the inevitable question, “How do you like Israel?” and you answer, “Fine.  But where are the Jews?” And the party goes off into the greatest laughter, for it is the nation’s joke.  [p. 286]

Ardrey’s assertion that Jews are not a race also fits with the way Danny did not include Jews in his hierarchy of races, which raises the question as to whether being a Jew is a matter of race or religion. When people hear of someone who has decided to become a Jew, they understand that in the religious sense and accept it as such.  But many of them would have a decidedly different reaction were someone to say he is no longer a Jew, because in that case they would understand being a Jew in the racial sense, something over which one has no choice.

This is further complicated by the fact that what it means to be a Jew in the religious sense is not really about belief.  Later in the movie, after Danny steals a Torah scroll from a synagogue, Carla is fascinated by it and wants to learn how to read it.  Danny begins teaching her, and she reads a passage:  “Make no graven image of the Lord or the form of any figure, of man or woman, or anything that looks like anything.”  Carla looks up from the scroll:

Carla:  Because He’s not like anything.  Not only can you not see Him or hear Him, but you can’t even think about Him?  I mean, what’s the difference between that and Him not existing at all?

Danny:  There’s no difference.

Carla:  I mean, Christianity’s silly, but at least there’s something to believe in.  Or not believe.  In Judaism, there’s nothing.

Danny:  Nothing but nothingness.  Judaism’s not really about belief.  It’s about doing things. Keeping the Sabbath, lighting candles, visiting the sick.

Carla:  And belief follows?

Danny:  Nothing follows.  ‘Cause you don’t do it because it’s smart, or stupid, or because you get saved, because nobody gets saved.  You just do it because the Torah tells you to, and you submit to the Torah.

And so, if a man wears the yarmulke, observes the Sabbath, and keeps the meat separate from the dairy, then he is a Jew in the religious sense, even if he does not believe in God.

Finally, Danny and Ardrey seem to believe that being a Jew is more about culture than about either race or religion, a culture that has been shaped by not having a “soil” or a “territory.”  After all, Cain was a “tiller of the ground,” a farmer who stayed in one place.  When God rejected the sacrifice from his harvest, that meant that God wanted the Jews to be nomads.  At least, that was how the Jews explained their nomadic life to themselves.  So, Danny’s claim that the Jew is a wanderer goes all the way back to the Book of Genesis.

The fact that Ardrey and Danny are in agreement does not mean they are right, of course.  But the point is that as bizarre as Danny’s claim seems to be that Israelis are not Jews, it is not unique to him.

Danny continues with this line of reasoning during the interview with Guy:

Notice the Israelis.  It’s fundamentally a secular society.  They no longer need Judaism because they have soil.  The real Jew is a wanderer.  He’s a nomad.  He’s got no roots and no attachments, so he universalizes everything.  He can’t hammer a nail or plough a field. All he can do is buy and sell and invest capital, manipulate markets.  And it’s, like, all mental.  He takes the life of a people rooted in soil and turns it into a cosmopolitan culture based on books and numbers and ideas.  You know, this is his strength.

When Danny said at the meeting that the Jewish disease was the disease of abstraction, we may not have understood what he meant, but the above quotation gives us a fuller sense of what he was driving at.  He continues:

Take the greatest Jewish minds:  Marx, Freud, Einstein.  What have they given us? Communism, infantile sexuality, and the atom bomb.  In the three centuries it’s taken these people to emerge from the ghettos of Europe, they’ve ripped us out of a world of order and reason, thrown us into class warfare, irrational urges, relativity, into a world where the very existence of matter and meaning is in question.  Why? Because it’s the deepest impulse of a Jewish soul to pull at the very fabric of life till there’s nothing left but a thread.  They want nothing but nothingness, nothingness without end.

Guy is awed by the intricate weaving of ideas that Danny puts forth, but then asks him how he can believe all this when he is a Jew himself, something he discovered in the course of his investigations.  We note that he does not say to Danny, “You used to be a Jew,” which is consistent with the asymmetry mentioned above.  Danny becomes angry, threatening to sue Guy if he publishes that. He sticks a pistol in Guy’s mouth and says he will kill himself if he prints that.  His anger is in part that he is ashamed of being a Jew, but it is also in part that he is still struggling with his Jewishness, with his affinity for the Jewish race.  His threat to commit suicide is a harbinger of what is to come.

In the earlier scene where Danny tried to get the Jewish boy to hit him, I argued that this was more than a bully’s dare.  It was, in a strange way, a desire to help the boy, to get him to fight.  Danny hates the Jew, but he also loves the Jew.  This struggle against his Jewishness becomes clearer as the movie progresses.

After deliberately provoking a fight in a kosher restaurant by making fun of the dietary laws, Danny and his friends are ordered by the judge to undergo sensitivity training.  They listen to some survivors of the holocaust tell their stories.  A man tells of how a Nazi soldier bayoneted his three-year-old son right in front of him.  While Danny’s friends are sitting around with looks of insolence on their faces, we see, just barely, the moisture in Danny’s eyes.  He is clearly distressed by the story. He berates the man for not fighting back against that soldier.  As he does so, his hands move across his face, as if to surreptitiously wipe the tears away.  A Jewish woman argues back, saying he would have been killed.  Danny replies that death would have been better than surviving with the memory of having done nothing.  Again the woman challenges that, pointing out that it is easy to talk like a hero, but braver men than Danny were broken by the Nazis.  Danny gets up saying that he and his friends have nothing to learn from the holocaust survivors, that they should be learning from Danny and his friends, to kill your enemy.

Throughout the movie, Danny has done more than talk about killing Jews.  He has been planning something, either an assassination or a bombing.  He and his friends break into a synagogue and begin trashing the place.  As they start to plant a bomb, someone discovers a Torah scroll, the one referred to above.  Danny becomes protective of it, while his friends want to desecrate it.  After they spit on it, tear it, and stomp on it, Danny carefully rolls it back up.  Somewhat later, as he lovingly tapes the torn part of the scroll back together, he fantasizes about being the Nazi soldier who bayoneted the child.

When the bomb fails to go off, a Rabbi on television explains that the power cell in the timer gave out thirteen minutes before it was set to explode.  He goes on to say that once again God intervened to save the Jews.  He begins elaborating a kind of mystical doctrine in which God has thirteen attributes, the highest of which means “nothingness without end.”  When we heard Danny say, in the interview with Guy, that Jews want nothingness without end, we might have thought this was just part of his strange theory, but this statement by the Rabbi indicates that much of Danny’s thinking is based on his scholarly knowledge of Judaism.

At the Zampf meeting, Danny had talked about killing Ilio Manzetti, a Jewish investment banker. One of his friends, Drake, who is a sharpshooter, asks Danny if he wants to kill a Jew, who turns out to be Manzetti.  When Manzetti walks out of the synagogue, Danny aims and shoots, but misses. Drake accuses him of doing it on purpose.  Then he discovers that Danny is wearing a prayer shawl beneath his shirt. “Fucking kike!” he exclaims.  “I knew it.”  They fight over the rifle.  Danny shoots Drake in the leg and gets away.

There is another flashback to that day in school when Danny gave his interpretation of the meaning of God’s demand that Abraham sacrifice Isaac, which in some ways is recapitulated by the story of the Jew, his son, and the Nazi soldier.  As noted above, Danny had maintained that what really happened that day was that God did not substitute a ram at the last minute.  And just as Danny insisted that the Jew should have fought back against the Nazi, even if it cost him his life, so too does Danny think that Abraham should have fought back against God to protect Isaac.  The implication is that God is a Nazi.

Picking up where the last flashback left off, Danny continues, “The whole Jewish people were permanently scarred by what happened at Mount Moriah.  And we still live in terror.”  When a fellow student says that fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, Danny replies, “Fear of God makes you afraid of everything. All the Jews are good at is being afraid, at being sacrificed.” Someone asks if he even believes in God, to which Danny replies, “I’m the only one who does believe.  I see him for the power-drugged madman that he is.  And we’re supposed to worship this deity?  I say, ‘Never!’”  The teacher tells a student to go get Rabbi Springer to remove Danny from the class.  He then turns to Danny, saying that if Danny had come out of Egypt, God would have destroyed him in the desert with all those who worshipped the Golden Calf. “Then let him destroy me now,” Danny replies defiantly. “Let him crush me like the conceited bully that he is.”  He looks up, as if at God in Heaven, and says, “Go ahead!”  We next see Danny running from the classroom, going down the stairs, symbolically suggesting his descent into the world antisemitism, into hate, into Hell.

Carla’s mother, Lina Moebius (Theresa Russell), and Zampf have decided to launch an intellectually serious fascist movement, and they want Danny to give speeches to help with the fundraising, rather than get involved in assassinations or bombings, because, as Lina says, they already have enough thugs.  He likes their plan, but he is disturbed both by the idea that they regard him as an intellectual and by the idea of fundraising, presumably because he thinks of intellect and money as Jewish concerns.  In fact, he is so disturbed that he rushes outside and throws up.

Carla follows him outside, and starts kissing him.  Kissing someone who has just vomited is disgusting.  In the interview with Guy, we recall that Danny said that oral sex was a perversion, and sexual perversion is something Danny associates with Jews.  We have already seen that Carla likes Danny to hurt her during sex, and on a previous occasion, she invited him to her room, telling him to come to her window at midnight.  When he got there, she was humping on Zampf.  While Danny watched, she looked right at him and had an orgasm.  So, we have masochism, exhibitionism, and scatology (of a sort).  Presumably this represents another conflict of emotions for Danny in his sexual relationship with a perverted Gentile girl.

Danny gives a speech in front of a handful of people, most of whom admit to being antisemites. Danny begins by posing a question as to why we hate the Jews:

Do we hate them because they push their way in where they don’t belong?  Or do we hate them because they’re clannish and keep to themselves?  Because they’re tight with money, or because they flash it around?  Because they’re Bolsheviks or because they’re capitalists? Because they have the highest IQs or because they have the most active sex lives?

If people give contradictory reasons for hating Jews, might that be because they don’t want to admit the real reason, even to themselves?  Danny never says so, but I can’t help but wonder if the unconscious reason for antisemitism is that the God Christians believe in was originally Yahweh, a Jewish God.  In a way, Christians are beholden to Jews for their religion, which is something they resent.  This would apply to antisemitism that is found among Muslims as well, since their Allah was originally Yahweh.  By holding fast to his religion, the Jew implies that Christianity and Islam are deviant religions, falsely derivative of the one true God of Israel.  Of course, by speaking of an unconscious reason for hating Jews, I would probably be accused by Danny of thinking like Freud, one of the Jews that Danny says has ruined the modern world.

In any event, Danny’s audience is undoubtedly confounded by what he says, because he makes it clear that the reasons people give for not liking Jews are inconsistent.  He continues:

You want to know why we hate them?  Because we hate them.  Because it’s an axiom of civilization, that just as man longs for woman, loves his children, and fears death, he hates Jews.  There’s no reason.  And if there were, some smart-assed kike would try to prove us wrong, which would only make us hate them more.  And really, we have all the reasons we need in three simple letters:  “J,” “E,” “W.” “Jew.”  You say it a million times, it’s the only word that never loses its meaning.

Danny’s views seem to vacillate between giving reasons for hating Jews and saying that the hate is what is fundamental, and the reasons don’t matter.

In the next scene, we see Danny talking to an investment banker who is willing to give a thousand dollars to the Zampf group, on account of an article that Danny wrote.  He advises Danny to forget all that stuff about the Jews, not because the banker disagrees with Danny’s antisemitism, but because it just doesn’t play any more.  “There’s only the market,” he says, “and it doesn’t care who you are.”  When Danny says that people still need values and beliefs, the banker replies, “No, they don’t.  Not the smart ones.”  The banker agrees to give Danny as much as five thousand dollars, but adds, “When you fall off this horse, come see me.  I could show you how to make a lot of money.”

Danny says, “You’re a Jew.  You may not realize it, but you are.”

The banker shrugs.  “Maybe I am.  Maybe we’re all Jews now.  What’s the difference?”

This banker is Danny’s opposite number:  whereas Danny is a Jew who has become an antisemite, this investment banker is an antisemite who has become a Jew.  In a similar way, Carla, who has figured out that Danny is a Jew on account of his obsession with Jews, is becoming Jewish herself, learning Hebrew and wanting to observe the Sabbath.

Danny runs into some old friends of his, who are Jewish, and he is invited to celebrate Rosh Hashanah with them at a synagogue.  When he gets there, we hear the rabbi reading from the Torah, while someone provides an English translation.  It is the story of Abraham and Isaac:  “And he said, ‘Take your son, your only son, whom you love, and go to the land of Moriah.’”

Danny remarks to those around him, “He’s not his only son.  The only one he loves.”  Danny is, of course, referring to Abraham’s other son, Ishmael.  Danny continues, “Only kill the ones you love, right?”

Following this, he gets into a heated argument with Avi, with whom he used to argue all the time at school.  Avi accuses Danny of being a fascist, saying he thinks “Jews are wimps.”  When he says Danny is a Jewish Nazi, Danny replies that Avi is a Zionist Nazi, that Zionists acts like Stormtroopers. A woman standing nearby asks, “And you hate them because they’re wimps or because they’re Stormtroopers?”  It is the very thing Danny warned about in his speech, the contradictory reasons people give for hating Jews.  These inconsistencies point back to Danny’s more fundamental point, that the hatred of the Jews is irrational, and reasons are something people struggle to come up with to make sense of their hatred.

The speech that Danny gave making that point was to an audience casually dressed, who appeared to be working class.  But following the scene at the synagogue, Danny is back at Lina’s house, which is filled with well-dressed people, “right-wing money,” as Lina puts it.  She has hopes that Danny’s speech will be what it takes to really get the movement going.

Danny gets before the crowd and begins singing a Jewish prayer.  He then explains why he did so:

Who wants to destroy the Jews?  Who wants to grind their bones into the dust?  And who wants to see them rise again?  Wealthier, more successful, powerful, cultured, more intelligent than ever? Then you know what we have to do?  We have to love them. “What! Did he say, ‘Love the Jews?’”  It’s strange, I know.  But with these people, nothing is simple. The Jew says all he wants is to be left alone to study his Torah, do a little business, fornicate with his oversexed wife.  But it’s not true.  He wants to be hated.  He longs for our scorn. He clings to it, as if it were the very core of his being. If Hitler had not existed, the Jews would’ve invented him.  For without such hatred, the so-called Chosen People would vanish from the Earth.  And this reveals a terrible truth and the crux of our problem as Nazis.  The worse the Jews are treated, the stronger they become.  Egyptian slavery made them a nation.  The pogroms hardened them. Auschwitz gave birth to the state of Israel. Suffering, it seems, is the very crucible of their genius.  So, if the Jews are, as one of their own has said, “A people who won’t take ‘Yes’ for an answer,” let us say “Yes” to them. They thrive on opposition.  Let us cease to oppose them.  The only way to annihilate this insidious people once and for all is to open our arms, invite them into our homes, and embrace them. Only then will they vanish into assimilation, normality, and love. But we cannot pretend.  The Jew is nothing, if not clever.  He will see through hypocrisy and condescension.  To destroy him, we must love him sincerely.

It is clear that this is not something that Danny has believed all along, but has only recently concluded as the last, logical, inexorable step in his philosophy.  If it is the essence of the Jew to be hated, as Danny has claimed, then only love will destroy him, will deprive him of the very thing he needs to be Jewish.  It also represents the synthesis of Danny’s own psychological struggle, the fact that he both hates and loves the Jew.

Danny has always been more than just the typical antisemite, has always taken things beyond what his audience is used to, starting when he was just a student in school; but this speech is so paradoxical and confusing to his audience that he starts losing them.  Guy, the reporter, moves forward through the crowd, for he is the one person in the room who is able to follow Danny’s reasoning.  He asks Danny if this destruction of the Jew through love would not make the Jew more powerful than he already is.

Danny answers:

Yes.  Infinitely more.  They would become as God.  It’s the Jews’ destiny to be annihilated so they can be deified.  Jesus understood this perfectly.  And look what was accomplished there with the death of just one enlightened Jew.  Imagine what would happen if we killed them all.

With that, Danny suggests they accompany him in the Jewish prayer with which he began.  But, of course, the people in the room are leaving bewildered.

Lina is furious with Danny and wants him out of the organization, but she is interrupted by Zampf to come look at a news report that Manzetti has been assassinated.  Danny has been bothered for some time that he only talks about killing Jews but has never actually killed one.  He knows Drake was the assassin, and what really bothers him is that others suspect Danny did it, rubbing it in that it was not him. And so, he reverts to hate.  And because the newspaper shows a picture of him as a boy and reveals that he is Jewish, his hatred becomes suicidal.

Danny and his friend plant a bomb in the pulpit of a synagogue timed to go off during Neilah, a service for Yom Kippur.  His friend tells him that the pulpit has been reinforced, which will inhibit the outward blast, but Danny says that all that matters is that the pulpit be destroyed.  Because Danny earlier said that he intended to daven, to recite the liturgical prayer at the service, it is beginning to look as though Danny intends a mass-murder-suicide.  When he arrives at the synagogue, he not only sees the people he was arguing with on Rosh Hashanah, but also Carla, who refuses to leave the service.  As he sits behind Carla, he again imagines himself as the Nazi bayoneting the child, but also imagines that he is the child’s father, who then attacks the Nazi, effectively struggling with himself as both Jew and Nazi.

Danny davens as he said he would, but as the clock approaches the designated time, he has a change of heart, telling everyone about the bomb and to get out of the room.  He remains at the pulpit, recalling the day in school when he defied God to destroy him.  It also recalls a question he posed to Carla, “Do you think people ever commit suicide out of happiness?”  And then the bomb explodes. In the last moments of his life, he sees himself back at school as an adult, only this time climbing the stairs instead of descending.  His teacher tells him that maybe he was right, that Isaac was killed on Mount Moriah, but then was reborn in the world to come.  But Danny keeps ascending without really knowing toward what, toward nothingness.

When Is a Religion Not a Religion?

When is a religion not a religion?  When you are an idealist.

The distinction between idealism and realism can be understood in many different ways, but in its most ordinary sense, an idealist understands the world in terms of how things ought to be, whereas the realist understands the world as it really is.

Let me begin with an example from my youth, the attitude toward rock and roll during the 1950s. I remember a lot of people who did not like rock and roll saying that it was not music. Sometimes they would soften this bald assertion with a qualifier, by saying, “Rock and roll is not really music,” thereby acknowledging that it had some of the features normally associated with music, in that sounds were produced with musical instruments, but that these sounds nevertheless did not rise to the level of actually being music.  At the time, I thought this was rather a strange way of talking.  I wondered why they did not simply say that it was bad music if they did not like it, rather than that it was not music at all.  Of course, one could go further and say that it is just a matter of taste, but that is a tangential point. What is important is that those who said rock and roll was not music were idealists.  They had a conception of music that was more important to them than the particular instances of music one finds in the world.  And if some of those instances did not measure up to that conception, they were not worthy of the name.  Realists, on the other hand, figure that music is whatever they find it to be, and while some of it is good, some of it is bad.

Sometimes the idealist takes the first instance of a thing in his experience to be its essential nature.  The first musicals I ever saw were Oklahoma! (1955) and The King and I (1956), for such musicals were quite popular in the 1950s. As a result, anyone my age who is an idealist is likely to take such movies as defining instances.  Years later, when I watched Gold Diggers of 1933 (1933), I could see that this was a different kind of musical, and I subsequently learned that it is referred to as a backstage musical, where the music takes place on stage or during rehearsals, as opposed to expressionist musicals, where disembodied orchestras accompany people singing and dancing in ways never found in real life.  Rather than make this simple distinction, however, I have known people my age who, like me, were exposed to expressionist musicals in their youth, and who insist that backstage musicals were not really musicals.  Had they seen the backstage musicals first, they would doubtless have said that it was the expressionist musicals that were really not musicals.

But first instances do not always determine the ideal.  In matters of love, for example, early instances of this passion are usually short-lived and somewhat painful.  But the idealist does not take this first experience of love to be its essence.  When he gets older, he says it was not really love, not true love, but just puppy love.  In this case, the idealist separates the part about love that he likes from the part he does not like.  Then he purifies it some more by saying that true love never dies, and that it is devoid of all selfish feeling.  By the time he gets through with it, he begins to find that love is rare, and if he goes too far down this path, he will become disillusioned and say that there really is no such thing.  He would rather deny that love exists than forsake the ideal conception he has of it.  A realist, on the other hand, figures that love is what he finds it to be.  The world is full of love, as far as he can see, and while some of it is good, some of it is bad.  Sometimes love is selfless, but sometimes love is quite selfish.  Sometimes love lasts and sometimes it doesn’t.

The perennial question as to whether men and women can be friends breaks along the divide between idealist and realist.  The idealist purifies friendship so much that it scarcely exists between those of the same sex, let alone between the opposite sex, where sexual desire can be disruptive in one way or the other.  As a result, he is likely to conclude that men and women cannot be friends.  The realist, on the other hand, finds a world full of friendships between men and women, and he simply notes that such friendships are a little more tenuous on account of the ways in which sex can intrude.

As indicated in these examples, an idealist is likely to use words like “true” and “really,” to distinguish his pure conceptions of things from what might appear to be counterexamples.  It is the idealist who is most prone to commit the no true Scotsman fallacy.  An example of this fallacy would be a situation in which a person says, “All Scotsmen are thrifty.”  When someone points out that Duncan is a Scotsman but is not thrifty, the person who made the original generalization says, “Well, Duncan is no true Scotsman.”  The person who commits this fallacy cares more about his idea of what a Scotsman is than the actual facts of the matter, and that is characteristic of an idealist.  He reifies his idea of a Scotsman as an essence, which a person must have to be a true Scotsman.  A realist, by way of contrast, would admit that Duncan is an exception to the rule and modify his original claim, perhaps by saying, “Most Scotsmen are thrifty.”

Last year (September, 2014), during President Obama’s address to the nation explaining the need to go to war against ISIL (to use his preferred acronym), he made a point of declaring that ISIL was not Islamic:  “No religion condones the killing of innocents, and the vast majority of ISIL’s victims have been Muslim,” he said.  Considering that Obama’s own religion of Christianity has a long history of doing precisely that, beginning with Joshua’s genocidal slaughter of every man, woman, child, infant, and assorted animals in the Promised Land, what are we to make of this claim?

The idealist begins with his own religion, purifies it, and makes this the standard against which all others are measured.  If they do not live up to his ideal conception, then they are not really religions.  The realist looks at history and present variations of religious faith, and he accepts that there are all sorts of religions, many of which he may regard as evil. And so, given this distinction, it is clear that Obama is an idealist.  He prefers to say that the ideology espoused by ISIL is not a religion, that it is not Islam or a sect or even a version of Islam.

But there must be more to it than that.  In an important fifteen-minute speech to the nation as to why we are going to war, he felt it necessary to express his idealist position that ISIL was not a religion, when he need not have brought the subject up at all.  In all likelihood, he wanted to avoid the characterization of this being a religious war, in part to protect Muslims in this country against discrimination and violence, and in part to mollify the nations of the Middle East that might be a little sensitive in this matter.

If so, there may be an unfortunate consequence in refusing to recognize the religious nature of  ISIL.  One of the disadvantages of being an idealist is that the failure to recognize the way the world is can lead to a serious miscalculation.  Let us reconsider an earlier example.  It may not matter much what people say about music and musicals, but in matters of love the idealist is more likely to be made miserable by love than the realist.  When a marriage results in divorce, the idealist may blame his wife or he may blame himself, but he never blames love.  As a result, he only learns that he should never have married her, not that he should never have married at all. Furthermore, by expecting more from love than is actually found in the world, the idealist is more likely to be disappointed.

By not recognizing that ISIL is religious in nature, we are underestimating what we are going up against. It is precisely because the members of ISIL are religious that they are so dangerous.  We may prevail against ISIL in this war simply because we are so powerful, but one thing we lack is their total commitment. I do not know whether Joe Scarborough, the host of Morning Joe, is an idealist, but I suspect he shares Obama’s view about ISIL not being religious in nature from what he has said on several occasions.  In particular, he has expressed amazement at the way these terrorist groups never seem to learn that when they anger Americans by attacking us, we end up destroying them. To me, the answer is obvious. They do it because they believe that they are carrying out the will of Allah. If we kill them, they die as martyrs, and they will be honored in Paradise.

I say this without irony.  They do not only half believe the way most people do, including, I suspect, Joe Scarborough and President Obama.  They believe completely, and with a faith so strong that we here in secular American can scarcely appreciate.

A long time ago, Fox News instituted the practice of refusing to use the expression “suicide bomber,” a policy I assume is still in place.  Instead, people who blow themselves up in a marketplace are referred to as “homicide bombers.”  The first thing that is striking about this is that the word “homicide” really adds no information to the word “bomber,” except perhaps to keep us from thinking about an airplane.  People who use bombs invariably kill people, or at least intend to.  Maybe in a movie like The Fountainhead (1949), Howard Roark can blow up a building without hurting anybody, but that is strictly a fictional fantasy.  The word “suicide” used to modify the word “bomber,” on the other hand, adds a great deal of information.  Someone who is willing to die to in order to detonate a bomb is far more dangerous than someone who is willing to set off the bomb provided he stands a fair chance of surviving.  Presumably, Fox replaced this very useful adjective “suicide” with the redundant “homicide” because they wanted to emphasize the harm that is caused to others, but in so doing, they suppress the much more important fact that these suicide bombers truly believe in their cause, believe that they have right on their side, believe that Allah will be pleased.

I am sadly one of the very small minority that is opposed to this war.  But if fight we must, it would be nice if we were a little more realistic about the nature of the enemy, an enemy who cares more about what they are fighting for than we do, because they are fighting a war of religion.

On the Distinction between Civilians and the Military

The men and women who serve in the armed forces of the United States fight for our rights and freedoms, risking life and limb as they do.  At least, that’s the ideal.  Sometimes we begin to wonder if they are actually fighting for something else instead, for reasons less worthy, such as access to oil.  But even then, the people who do the fighting may be assumed to have joined the military for noble purposes, even if in the end ignoble motives lie behind some of the wars they end up fighting.

We honor these brave men and women with medals for a few and parades for the rest.  Politicians regularly praise their sacrifice in speeches, and we listen to those speeches with approval.  We regret the loss of life that is incurred on the battlefield, and we are heartbroken to see the ones who return physically maimed and crippled, mentally shattered and traumatized.  We are angered when we find that these veterans are not receiving the care that they deserve, and we all agree that more should be done.  Yet through it all, we never question the rightness of the ideal.  Without question we support the notion that fighting for our rights and freedoms, even at the cost of life or physical or mental well-being, is a good thing.  Only when we suspect that they are not fighting for our rights and freedoms do we question the war, do we say their sacrifice was in vain, do we say that they were betrayed, as was the case in Vietnam and in the Iraq War.  But as long as the war is actually being fought for our rights and freedoms, we do not question the rightness of their sacrifice.

It has been observed that only a very small percentage of our population actually makes that sacrifice.  Even if we include the immediate families of those in the military, the percentage of the population directly involved in these wars is small.  For this reason, a few have suggested that we bring back the draft.  Instead of forcing the men and women in the military to serve multiple tours of duty in combat, we could use the draft the spread the sacrifice over a larger section of the population.

Officially, the reason the military opposes the draft is that conscription is not suited to the twenty-first century, where a lot more technological expertise is required, requiring a greater investment in training.  The draftee compelled to serve for a couple of years will be gone before he has learned enough to be truly useful.  More cynically, we suspect that the real reason is political.  It is easier to fight wars with a volunteer army.  There are fewer complaints from the civilian population, fewer and smaller marches protesting the war, and less chance that politicians supporting the war will be voted out of office.  But even if we returned to the draft, most of us would remain unaffected.  It would only directly affect those between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six, leaving a substantial portion of the population immune to the horrors of war.

With the recent terrorist attacks, the one in France and now the one in San Bernardino, a majority of the American people want to send ground troops to fight ISIS.  Moreover, as often happens in such cases, there is a tendency for people to be willing to give up some of their rights and freedoms in exchange for more security.  Donald Trump, who is the leading contender for the Republican nomination for president, has called for a return of waterboarding “and worse,” and has refused to rule out warrantless searches or the identification of people based on their religion.  Since he made those remarks, his popularity in the polls has increased.

It is precisely here that we see that profound difference between civilians and those in the military.  While it is held to be perfectly appropriate for the men and women in the armed forces to risk life and limb fighting for our rights and freedoms, it is not thought appropriate to ask the civilian population to take the same risks for the same reasons.  What is the justification for this distinction?

We sometimes hear the expression “innocent civilians.”  As opposed to what?  Guilty soldiers?  Presumably the idea is that civilians are not combatants and therefore should not be the victims of military action.  Soldiers should kill other soldiers only, the thinking goes.  Of course, there have been many times where we took action we knew would result in the death of many civilians, as in the firebombing attacks in World War II, not to mention the dropping of two atom bombs.  But it is generally agreed that civilian deaths are to be avoided as much as possible.

While that distinction is still worth observing when it comes to how we treat the enemy, is it really a distinction we should be making with respect to ourselves?  When it comes to the sacrifices that are to be made in defense of our rights and freedoms, should we not demand the same from our civilian population as we expect from our soldiers?  Instead of a literal return to the draft, I advocate a figurative return to a draft in which the entire population of the United States is enlisted in the fight for our rights and freedoms.

As we ask our soldiers to risk being blasted to pieces by IEDs, we civilians should risk being blasted by a pipe bomb in a terrorist attack.  As the men and women risk taking a bullet to preserve our way of life, so too should we risk taking a bullet for the same reason.  Those in the military did not put their security first when they signed up, so why should we think our security is more important than theirs?

We should no more give up our rights and freedoms to prevent future terrorist attacks than a soldier should throw down his rifle and flee the battlefield to avoid being killed.  If the men and women of the armed forces have the courage to face down death for our rights and freedoms, we should not act like cowards, giving up those very rights and freedoms they are willing to die for.

Even were we to do as I suggest, the risk we civilians take would still be less than that taken by those who engage in combat.  But it is the least we can do.  We can best honor the men and women in uniform by proving that we are worthy of the sacrifice they are making.

Storm Warning (1951)

If you didn’t know better, you might think Storm Warning was a musical, once you found out that Ginger Rogers and Doris Day are two of the leading stars, but it is actually a film noir about the Ku Klux Klan.  But while the main part of the story involving the Klan is engrossing enough on its own, it occurs within the framework of a morality tale, in which a selfish woman is punished for taking advantage of a man she cares nothing about.  This part of the movie is easily overlooked, and so I will give it emphasis here.

The movie opens with Marsha (Ginger Rogers) and Cliff (Lloyd Gough) on a bus.  They work as a team for a clothing manufacturer, where he is a salesman and she is a model.  They are supposed to meet some buyers the next day, but she says she is getting off at Rock Point to see her sister and will catch up with him the next night, which means she won’t be there to model the clothes as she is supposed to.  She tells him to show them the clothes on hangers.

In real life, stealing a little time from the boss is no big deal, something most people have done at one time or another.  In a movie, however, it often happens that people are punished severely for a mere peccadillo, and so we get a slight sinking feeling at this most venial of sins.  But it gets worse.  She starts taking samples out of Cliff’s suitcase to give to her sister, whom she has not seen in two years, as a belated marriage present. This means she is not just stealing time from her boss, but dresses as well.  Furthermore, she is putting Cliff on the spot.  “What will I tell the home office?” Cliff asks, knowing he has to account for every item.  “Tell them you ran into Jesse James,” is Marsha’s flip answer.  In other words, she is not saying that she intends to reimburse the company as soon as she gets her next paycheck.

At this point, we might be wondering if they are in some kind of romantic relationship, in which case it might make sense that she would expect the man who is in love with her to cover for her.  But the movie nips that in the bud.  It is immediately made clear in their conversation that Cliff has been pursuing Marsha for some time, but to no avail, and she is firm in telling Cliff that it is time for him to give up.  In short, she is imposing on a man with whom she will not even go to dinner.

When the bus pulls into Rock Point, Cliff gets off with Marsha just to stretch his legs.  He refers to the town as a “dead end,” as a “wilderness,” but she defends it as a place where the people are nice and everyone goes to church, something her sister must have told her in a letter, since Marsha has never been there before.  It is indeed isolated.  While on the bus, they passed a billboard stating that Rock Point is a community of American homes and ideals, with “American” in large print, bookended by two American flags.  Such fervent patriotism is always ominous, as was the part about everyone going to church.

Marsha heads to a payphone to call her sister to come pick her up.  She tells Cliff to give her a nickel, which he does.  He tries to buy a pack of cigarettes at the counter, but is told to use the machine.  Apparently cigarette machines were new at the time, because Cliff comments that the way things are going, pretty soon they won’t need people.  He returns to the phone booth just as Marsha hangs up.  Because no one answered the phone at her sister’s house, Marsha retrieves the nickel, and, with Cliff standing right there, she opens her purse, holds the nickel about six inches over the opening, and drops it in, ostentatiously not returning it to Cliff.  She could have simply slipped the nickel into her purse while still sitting in the booth, but the movie is going out of its way to make sure we notice this business about her keeping it.

But she’s not done.  She turns to Cliff and tries to bum a cigarette.  As it is a fresh pack, Cliff has trouble removing one cigarette, and because the bus is about to leave, he ends up tossing her the whole pack as he gets aboard.  She is stealing time from her boss, she stole some dress samples, she kept Cliff’s nickel, and now she even has the poor guy’s only pack of cigarettes, all in the space of ten minutes.  Taking it all together, we see that Marsha is the kind of woman who, because she is attractive, believes it is her prerogative to take advantage of men, even men she has no interest in romantically.

None of this had to be in the movie, and it did not get in there by accident.  The script could have been written differently, in which she simply tells a passenger she happens to be riding with that she is going to see her sister, after which she gets off the bus and uses her own nickel to make the call.  The pack of cigarettes could have been left out entirely.  Instead, script was written to make it clear that Marsha is a bit of a chiseler, and that she thinks she can get away with it on account of her looks.  In real life, such women do.  But this is a movie, and all that follows is punishment for her sins.

As soon as the bus pulls out, businesses start closing and turning off their lights.  Marsha finds herself on a dark, deserted street.  She starts walking in the direction where she believes her sister is working, when she witnesses a man being murdered by the Ku Klux Klan.  While hiding in a dark doorway, she sees two of the Klansmen who, thinking they are unobserved, remove their hoods.  Only later does she realize that one of the men, Hank (Steve Cochran), is married to her sister Lucy (Doris Day).

It turns out that the man who was murdered was a reporter from out of town who was secretly investigating the Klan.  When it was discovered what he was doing, he was arrested on a trumped up charge, after which the Klan broke him out of jail intending to lynch him, but in a moment of panic, Hank shot him as the reporter tried to escape.  Later, the county prosecutor, Burt Rainey (Ronald Reagan), reveals that other such incidents have occurred, always when someone from out of town starts snooping around.

In other words, we most emphatically do not see the Klan doing anything bad to African Americans.  Later in the movie, at an inquest, we do see a few such African Americans in the crowd outside the courthouse, but that is the extent of their presence in the movie.  The only people intimidated in this movie are journalists from out of town and all the white citizens of Rock Point who do not belong to the Klan.  Evidently, when this movie was made in 1951, dramatizing the Ku Klux Klan’s mistreatment of blacks was thought to be too controversial, notwithstanding the fact that intimidating the black race was the Klan’s main reason for existing in the first place. Perhaps the producers were afraid that condemning the Klan for mistreating African Americans would have angered southerners, who would have boycotted the movie, assuming theater owners would have agreed even to show it. Apparently, it was all right to make a movie showing that the Ku Klux Klan is evil, but not to make a movie showing that it is wrong to keep black people in their place.

Furthermore, the people who made this movie are at pains to insist that the Klan is guilty of corruption and income tax evasion.  In other words, it would not do to portray the Klan as composed of people who are sincere in their racist beliefs, who lynch people to preserve the Aryan cause of white supremacy.  Instead, the Klan is portrayed cynically.  Some naïve bumpkins might actually fall for all that stuff and nonsense about white supremacy, but they have been duped by the men at the top who care only about lining their pockets.  And so, instead of tackling racism head on and asserting that it is evil, this movie takes the easy way out.  It avoids any explicit mention or depiction of racism and simply faults the Klan for being a racket.  Presumably, the fear is that if the Klan is portrayed as composed of people who genuinely believe in the cause of white supremacy, including and especially its leaders, the sincerity with which they hold their racist views might lend them a certain legitimacy.

A similar way of presenting the Klan occurred in the earlier movie Black Legion (1937).  Actually, the movie is not about the Klan per se, but rather it is about a similarly robed and hooded organization in Michigan.  Again, the victims of this vigilante group are all white:  they are foreigners from countries like Poland and Ireland, thought to be taking jobs away from Americans of white, Anglo Saxon, Protestant heritage.  And again, while the rank and file are true believers, their leaders are corrupt.

In any event, Marsha gets caught in an Antigone situation, where she must choose between duty to her family and duty to the state.  Because Lucy is pregnant and refuses to leave Hank even when she finds out that it was Hank who pulled the trigger, Marsha remains loyal to her sister and refuses to tell what she knows on the witness stand, not only refusing to identify the two men who removed their hoods, but also refusing to say that the men were dressed in the robes and hoods of the Klan.

Earlier, the leader of the Klan in that town, Charlie Barr (Hugh Sanders), in pressuring Marsha to keep her mouth shut, tries to tell her about the good that the Klan does, saying, “Without us, a girl like you wouldn’t be safe on the street at night.”  The implicit threat he is referring to is that of a black man raping a white woman.  It is ironic, then, that after the inquest, Hank tries to rape Marsha, reinforcing the point that what white people really have to fear in that town is the Klan.

The attempted rape is discovered by Lucy, who decides to leave Hank, freeing Marsha to tell what she knows, now that she no longer has to protect her sister.  But Marsha is kidnapped and whipped by the Klan until Lucy brings Rainey and some detectives to rescue her.  Hank tries to shoot Marsha but kills Lucy instead, whereupon a detective kills Hank.  Charlie Barr is arrested, and the rest of the Klansmen flee the scene in a panic, leaving us with the impression that this is the end of the Klan in that town, punctuated by the collapse of the burning cross.

As the movie comes to an end, we can only hope that Marsha has learned her lesson and will not take advantage of Cliff in the future.

The Holidays with My Favorite Gold Digger

They say life begins at forty, and for me that turned out to be true, because it was around that time I decided to start taking dancing lessons.  In the course of taking these lessons, I met a lot of women also taking lessons with whom I would dance during the practice sessions at the studio, and out of these I soon found one who was willing to be a regular dancing partner.

Now, when it comes to dancing, there are two kinds of men:  those who put sex before dancing, and those who put dancing before sex.  In other words, some men don’t care if a woman has two left feet, as long as they can have sex with her.  But I really enjoyed dancing, and so it was that if a woman and I had dancing chemistry, I didn’t really care if the partnership was strictly platonic.  Well, I cared, but not enough to give her up.

At first, I would pay for her drinks when we went dancing, because that is what a gentleman usually does on a date, but as we were going out three nights a week, it was all getting to be a little expensive, especially as this occurred on top of the cost of the lessons.  After a couple of months, I told her we would have to go Dutch treat from then on, to which she happily agreed.  It was especially easy for me to reach this decision once I determined that we were never going to be more than just friends.  My decision was also facilitated by the fact that she made four times as much money as I did.

Dancing partners come and go, and so the typical partnership would last about two years.  Most of them, despite my most amorous efforts, would end up being platonic, and after a while, I decided to start them right off on a Dutch treat basis, and if that cost me my chances for romance, that was just too bad.  I asked one woman I met in a studio if she wanted to go dancing at the Midnight Rodeo, quickly adding, “But it will have to be Dutch treat.”  She replied thoughtfully, “All right.  We can just be friends.”  I wanted to say, in hopes of being amusing, “Oh, I didn’t say we couldn’t have sex.  I just don’t want to pay for it,” but I decided that she might not appreciate my witticism.

Opposites attract, and so it is perhaps not surprising that one of my favorite dancing partners was a gold digger.  Or, if that seems a little harsh, let’s just say that Sheila was the most expensive woman I have ever known.  Normally, she would never have considered dating a guy like me with my limited income, even if I had been willing to pick up the tab, but she wanted to dance with me as much as I wanted to dance with her, and so she readily agreed to a Dutch treat arrangement.

I should note at this point that when I first started going out with women Dutch treat, I thought it would cut my dating expenses in half.  I was wrong.  It actually cut them to a quarter of what I would have paid.  You see, once these women found out they would have to pay their own way, I was amazed to discover how resourceful they were at finding inexpensive things to do.  And very often, these inexpensive activities were more fun than the expensive ones.

Inasmuch as we are in the holiday season, let me take as an example of this principle one that occurred regarding New Year’s Eve.  Sheila already had a boyfriend when I met her, and as New Year’s Eve approached, she told me about how she and Robert were going to ring in the new year.  They were going to a hotel, where there would be entertainment, a meal, and champagne, along with a room for the night so that they would not have to drive home intoxicated.  The cost for the two of them, adjusted for inflation, was around seven hundred dollars.  Sheila was quite excited about going, and she showed me the brochure.  She knew what a cheapskate I was, and I think she enjoyed making me squirm.  I gasped at the cost, but she assured me it was quite reasonable.

You see, Sheila actually liked me better than her boyfriend, and she often hinted that she would be glad to dump him and become my lover instead, if only I was willing to compromise on this Dutch treat business.  In so many words, she said she would give me a discount.  Robert made twice as much money as she did, but she made twice as much money as I.  Knowing this, she said, “I’m always willing to make allowances for a man’s income.”  But I knew a compromise would not work.  Given the amount I was willing to spend, she would have felt unloved; and given the amount I would have had to spend, I would have felt unloved.  And so, things remained as they were.

Anyway, Sheila and Robert celebrated New Year’s Eve in style.  The next week, while I was trying to figure out where Sheila and I could do some ballroom dancing, I came across a place that seemed suitable.  I told Sheila about it, mentioning that it had a fifteen-dollar cover charge.  “Fifteen dollars!” she exclaimed with alarm.  “That’s too expensive.  We’ll go to the Wild West instead.”  Well, that’s what we did, and we each had a five dollar drink, including tip, which we nursed for a couple of hours between dances.  And that is what I meant when I said that going Dutch cuts your dating expenses by way more than just half.

Because I had been unable to get Sheila to cheat on her boyfriend, I eventually gave up on that and asked her friend Vera out on a date.  As it was our first date, I decided to be generous and pay for her drink that night.  If things worked out, I could always bring up the subject of going Dutch treat later on.  Vera had a young son, and so there was a babysitter there when I came to pick her up.  On the way to the nightclub, she mentioned that what with the cost of a babysitter, she sometimes was reluctant to go out in the evening.

A few days later, while dancing with Sheila, I told her what Vera said.  “I almost hate to ask her out again, given what she said about the cost of a babysitter.”

“She was hoping you would pay for it,” Sheila replied.  That possibility had never crossed my mind.  Here I was, feeling that I had gone above and beyond the call of duty by paying for Vera’s drink, and now Sheila was telling me I was supposed to foot the babysitting bill as well.  “We have discussed this many times,” Sheila said.  “Vera thinks the man should pay for the babysitter, whereas I say that they are my children, and it is my responsibility to pay for that.”

Now, you may be thinking that Vera was even more of a gold digger than Sheila, but rather, the difference was that Sheila preferred to go for the long play.  She knew that trying to get too much money out of a man early on in the relationship was the equivalent of a man trying to get sex on the first date.  The bum’s rush is shortsighted and seldom succeeds.  She preferred to let a man become enamored of her charms first, after which he would be more amenable to spending his money.  She told me about one guy she went out with who started off taking her out on cheap dates like going to museums, but when Christmas came around, he bought her a fox fur.  “I almost felt bad about that,” she said, “because he spent the next six months taking the bus to work and bringing his own lunch.”

And I have no doubt that she did almost feel bad, because she really did take a man’s wherewithal into account.  For example, she and Robert made plans to go on a trip to Europe, which he estimated would cost about seven thousand dollars.  By this time, I was numb to her stories about what that guy paid out.  In any event, it occurred to her that her kitchen needed remodeling, and she got an estimate that it could be done for four thousand dollars.  So, she told Robert, “If you pay to have my kitchen remodeled, we won’t have to go to Europe.”  He agreed.  “So you see,” Sheila continued, “By not going to Europe, I saved him a lot of money.”

“You could have saved him even more money,” I replied, “by not going to Australia.”

Anyway, as Christmas rolled around, I knew Sheila was looking forward to what she was going to get from Robert.  As he had taken her to a jewelry store to look at a diamond bracelet, which had a five-thousand-dollar price tag on it, she had a pretty good idea that would be it.  I called her Christmas day around four in the afternoon, because we had talked about going dancing.  It had been my experience that a lot of nightclubs were open on Christmas night, but the dance floor was usually pretty empty, which allowed for practicing some of the more complicated dance patterns.

She had indeed gotten the gift she was hoping for, and she was ready to go dancing.  “I have taken down all the decorations and stored them away,” she said, “and the tree is sitting out on the curb waiting to be picked up.”

I was stunned.  “Why did you do that?” I asked.  “Most people leave the tree up at least until New Year’s.”

“I always get rid of the tree on Christmas afternoon,” she answered, “because I find it a little depressing.  It saddens me, because I get to thinking about how we have lost the true meaning of Christmas.”