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“Not to worry; I’m fighting a masochist.” - Bored to Death

No matter the vehicular metaphor the U.S. is taking as transport into 2010, there should be skid marks involved. There is fear, and there is reason to be afraid. As the penultimate day of 2009 illustrates, there’s little reason to assume the twain have met.

Starting with the actual fear, those of you who don’t have time to watch the news all day might be surprised to learn that the NASDAQ was evacuated around noon yesterday while police and counterterrorism units confirmed that an unmarked van contained no explosives. Although MSNBC provided a live video feed, its business-centered sister network, CNBC, didn’t really take note. One New York resident close to this forum could barely contain his fright. “Yeah,” he commented, “that craziness blocked me from Burger King. Curses.”

Of course, this violent reaction to questionable parking was primed by the would-be yuletide airline bomber, who planted explosives in his shorts before boarding a trans-Atlantic flight to Detroit. No one has yet to tally the number of passengers who would’ve welcomed the sweet relief of death rather than de-board their 9-hour flight only to find themselves in Detroit.

A wave of uproar arose in the wake of the failed attempt at airline terrorism. Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano and White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs hit the Sunday morning shows to inform the populace that the government really was doing its best to screen every human being before allowing him or her to cross the border by land, sea, or air. When those statements weren’t enough, the President himself interrupted his Hawaiian vacation to acknowledge that mistakes had been made. Somehow, no one took a moment to remind us that the incident was extremely isolated relative to the number of flights in the air everyday, and oh, by the way, the attack failed.

Given the way the Bush administration became synonymous with abrogating civil liberties, one would expect the current administration to dwell for at least a moment on the attack’s thwarting. Because the attacker’s fellow passengers had the wherewithal to prevent him from setting himself ablaze, Obama won’t have to tread the line between insecurity and Fascism. No one would be hurt by a public service announcement reminding Americans to put their neighbors out, should they catch fire. If the fire is accidental, then you’re discharging your neighborly duty. If the fire is intentional, then putting it out will likely prevent harm to yourself. Either way, a “Friends Don’t Let Friends Burn” (FDLFB) initiative could find bi-partisan support. Everybody wins when you stop, drop, and roll.

Then again, FDLFB might strike some people as being excessively akin to socialized medicine. As long as they don’t cross our shared armrest, that guy’s flames are his problem, not mine. If you want a stiff upper lip and some assurance that you won’t die because an inefficient labor market disallows you from receiving adequate health insurance, then move to Britain. I hope you aren’t too attached to your assault rifles and Tex-Mex cuisine.

Meanwhile, less than 10 hours after Times Square returned to business as usual, MTV aired a real cause for fear. That’s right, it’s time for another season of The Real World. Were the notion of 8 more strangers not troublesome enough, this batch of narcissists has been unleashed on the District of Columbia. That’s right; someone thought a blister of national security that turns back into a pumpkin at midnight every night would be ideal for shooting a reality program historically centered around its castmembers drunken histrionics. Not only is this effort the odds-on favorite to set a new record in pixel-blurred faces, but a viewing of the premiere leaves one with the impression that, having addressed ethnicity, sexuality, and gender biases in past seasons, this one has been cast to put religious and political disagreements in stark relief. If the kind of young people who measure their value in minutes of screen time can’t solve the world’s problems, then all may be lost.

Like I said, let’s start with reminding people to put each other out.

“An important corollary to the voluntaristic principle might be called contractualism or covenantalism…American marriage has this character: modern Americans believe that people are free not to marry and free to leave an unsatisfactory marriage, but so long as a marriage continues, it demands faithfulness. (Not for Americans is discreet adultery a` la francaise.)” - Claude Fischer, “Paradoxes of American Individualism”

There’s been a bit of hullabaloo surrounding Tiger Woods’ extramarital affairs. It makes sense. No one could have guessed that the young, enormously wealthy athlete who married a swimsuit model-turned-au-pair would punctuate his professional travels with serial intimate encounters. People who took Tiger’s years of media silence as evidence that he was a virtuous pillar of morality and character depth have every right to feel misled.

Wait; something about that paragraph seems wrong. It’s possible a capacity for maneuvering small synthetic orbs with well-engineered shillelaghs — no matter how superlative — may not actually be an indicator of strenuous conformity to middle class social mores. In other words, skill as a golfer may not correlate with marital fidelity.

In fact, if a person assumes golf to be a sport, then a certain amount of indiscretion would seem to be a sine qua non. Charles Barkley and Michael Jordan have historically be gamblers, much like Pete Rose. Kobe Bryant allegedly raped a woman in Colorado, and the late Steve McNair was killed in his girlfriend’s apartment — not far from the home he shared with his wife. Martina Hingis’ latest retirement came on the heels of a positive drug test (cocaine). Without forming a rigorous psychological argument, I think we can assume a correlation between an overwhelmingly competitive ethos and the propensity to take other lifestyle elements to their more extreme ends. That’s not to mention the extent to which fame and fortune accompany professional athletes’ success.

I doubt anyone’s asked Pascal Bruckner his thoughts on the matter. Had the Frenchman something to say, however, one imagines it would relate to vulgarity. Is this revelation of serial infidelity proof that Tiger is a poseur, a parvenu of nobility, or is the imposition of middle-class values upon an idol of hero-worship a vulgar attempt at leveling-down? Regardless, two facts are clear: the Woods have publicly reached a socioeconomic class few Americans can comprehend, and many in the uncomprehending masses took satisfaction in seizing moral high ground.

“These are not ordinary super-hero cakes; they are extreme. It is perilous even to go near them in their completed state.” - Tom Brevoort

I would apologize for my recent absence. Notice the subjunctive. I would apologize, but I’m not sure I feel all that bad about it. I had more important things to do, and besides, I’m fairly certain the world draws less value from these posts than I expend composing them. In economic terms, that’s what we call a vicious spiral (as opposed to the virtuous circle). Why spirals are assumed to descend, I don’t know. It’s an important convention to keep in mind, however, if you ever happen to visit the Guggenheim; containing one’s skepticism about modern art gets progressively more difficult when such art is displayed in conjunction with a Sisyphean climb.

Discussion of ironic installations notwithstanding, more pressing matters have largely been addressed, so now I’ve got time to rejoin the vicious cycle. Because you waste time reading it, my time is wasted writing it. Of course, that analogy may “assume a can opener,” as the saying goes. My time is also wasted if you don’t read it at all.

On the subject of time, I see the Winter Solstice has drawn nigh in my absence. The sun is rising later and setting earlier. The Northern Hemisphere is beset with peace and quiet. People living in areas with negligible street crime are welcome to pull on a sweater or other civilized garment and do some quality thinking. Throw in the advent of Thursday and Saturday night NFL broadcasts, and you have, indeed, the most wonderful time of the year.

Maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

For starters, the impact of decreased sunlight is nonuniform across latitudes. While everyone can enjoy fewer hours of glare, the calm of upper climes is supplemented by a layer of snow to muffle excess noise. Farther South, however, the days simply alternate between hypothermia-inducing torrents of rain and the slight discomfiture of late fall. Perhaps it’s the lack of a full 4 seasons that leads a people to believe gravy is appropriate at breakfast. Consider that a suggestion for further research.

At least saturated fat in the morning is a threat that can be easily identified. Absent rain, sleet, or snow, the more colonial Christian sects are apt to be out peddling their beliefs. Set aside their failure to proselytize as arduously as the Postal Service, and never mind the offense to be taken from people visiting to attack a person’s perception of reality. Overlook the question of whether so-scheduled evangelism is inspired by the forthcoming holiday or intended to prey upon homebodies weakened by a lack of Vitamin D. I just don’t want to be woken by a mid-day knock at the door or impeded from getting my groceries to the car by talk of notional cosmic supervisor.

Domestic crusades aren’t the end of December’s woes. No matter what any other Caucasoid might tell you, the U.S. is a country of immigrants. It’s a melting pot of ethnicities, cuisines, and social mores, but an adhesive exists to hold it together. That adhesive, my friends, is television. Whether it’s Lost, Meet the Press, or (FSM forbid) American Idol, there’s most likely a program you and your cohort could discuss with passers-by, as need be. Such may not be the case this month.

Whereas the dog days of summer at least provide reruns of episodes a person might have intended to see the first time, December is overrun with an intransigent array of holiday specials and their derivatives. Programming descends to the primary school level. Without the promise of leading viewers, nothing worthwhile is broadcast, even after the watershed. With all due respect to St. Paul’s own Charles Schulz, you’re a sorry excuse for content, Charlie Brown.

The long and short of it is that, including today, most of us have as many work days left in 2009 as weekends or holidays, and there just isn’t enough nothing to fill the time.