Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

-- "Love Is Not All" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It well may be. I do not think I would.

-- "Love Is Not All" by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Of Racism and the Right-Wing

A couple of colorful instances of racial antagonism have made it into my news feeds over the past couple of days. It is difficult to know what to make of anecdotal evidence, whether we are getting worse or whether these are isolated cases. Personally, I am inclined to associate the growth of right-wing politics with racism, but how tight that association is, I cannot say.

In the first instance, we have a black school principal in Brooklyn, Ms. Greta Hawkins, who disallowed the singing of Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" at a kindergarten graduation. She has since gotten a lot of nasty messages. Here is the more provocative one showcased in the news story:

"You are a filthy, dirty, ugly subhuman gorilla... Lets hope that AIDS will do what sickle cell anemia failed to do, exterminate your whole simian race."

Though, it should be said that Ms. Hawkins also barred Justin Bieber's "Baby", and so this could just be about some excitable Bieber fans, but probably not. Personally, I suspect she simply has a decent aesthetic sense for good music.

In the other case, we have a Tea Partier, Ms. Inge Marler, who was apparently a little too comfortable in her speaking engagement, as she let fly this joke:

Marler describes a black child asking his mother what a democracy is.

‘Well, son, that be when white folks work every day so us poor folks can get all our benefits,’ the mother responds.

‘But mama, don’t the white folk get mad about that?’ the boy asks, to which she replies: ‘They sure do, son. They sure do. And that’s called racism.’

Now, the Ozark Tea Party, the hosts of this rally, are reported to be shocked by these remarks, "Oh, my gosh!" But, you know, old habits die hard, and in these politically correct times, one must be discreet.

Of Racism and the Right-Wing

A couple of colorful instances of racial antagonism have made it into my news feeds over the past couple of days. It is difficult to know what to make of anecdotal evidence, whether we are getting worse or whether these are isolated cases. Personally, I am inclined to associate the growth of right-wing politics with racism, but how tight that association is, I cannot say.

In the first instance, we have a black school principal in Brooklyn, Ms. Greta Hawkins, who disallowed the singing of Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" at a kindergarten graduation. She has since gotten a lot of nasty messages. Here is the more provocative one showcased in the news story:

"You are a filthy, dirty, ugly subhuman gorilla... Lets hope that AIDS will do what sickle cell anemia failed to do, exterminate your whole simian race."

Though, it should be said that Ms. Hawkins also barred Justin Bieber's "Baby", and so this could just be about some excitable Bieber fans, but probably not. Personally, I suspect she simply has a decent aesthetic sense for good music.

In the other case, we have a Tea Partier, Ms. Inge Marler, who was apparently a little too comfortable in her speaking engagement, as she let fly this joke:

Marler describes a black child asking his mother what a democracy is.

‘Well, son, that be when white folks work every day so us poor folks can get all our benefits,’ the mother responds.

‘But mama, don’t the white folk get mad about that?’ the boy asks, to which she replies: ‘They sure do, son. They sure do. And that’s called racism.’

Now, the Ozark Tea Party, the hosts of this rally, are reported to be shocked by these remarks, "Oh, my gosh!" But, you know, old habits die hard, and in these politically correct times, one must be discreet.

Atlas Shrugged (1,2) Owen Kellogg

Now that the Taggart Comet is rolling again, Dagny works out in her mind what needs to be done about this mismanagement. And it’s so hard to get good help!

_ _ _

This would be just one more issue, to be settled along with the others. She knew that the superintendent of the Ohio Division was no good and that he was a friend of James Taggart. She had not insisted on throwing him out long ago only because she had no better man to put in his place. Good men were so strangely hard to find. But she would have to get rid of him, she thought, and she would give his post to Owen Kellogg, the young engineer who was doing a brilliant job as one of the assistants to the manager of the Taggart Terminal in New York; it was Owen Kellogg who ran the terminal. She had watched his work for some time; she had always looked for sparks of competence, like a diamond prospector in an unpromising wasteland. Kellogg was still too young to be made superintendent of a division; she had wanted to give him another year, but there was no time to wait. She would have to speak to him as soon as she returned.

The strip of earth, faintly visible outside the window, was running faster now blending into a gray stream. Through the dry phrases of calculations in her mind, she noticed that she did have time to feel something: it was the hard, exhilarating pleasure of action.

-- “Atlas Shrugged” by Ayn Rand

Atlas Shrugged (1,2) Owen Kellogg

Now that the Taggart Comet is rolling again, Dagny works out in her mind what needs to be done about this mismanagement. And it’s so hard to get good help!

_ _ _

This would be just one more issue, to be settled along with the others. She knew that the superintendent of the Ohio Division was no good and that he was a friend of James Taggart. She had not insisted on throwing him out long ago only because she had no better man to put in his place. Good men were so strangely hard to find. But she would have to get rid of him, she thought, and she would give his post to Owen Kellogg, the young engineer who was doing a brilliant job as one of the assistants to the manager of the Taggart Terminal in New York; it was Owen Kellogg who ran the terminal. She had watched his work for some time; she had always looked for sparks of competence, like a diamond prospector in an unpromising wasteland. Kellogg was still too young to be made superintendent of a division; she had wanted to give him another year, but there was no time to wait. She would have to speak to him as soon as she returned.

The strip of earth, faintly visible outside the window, was running faster now blending into a gray stream. Through the dry phrases of calculations in her mind, she noticed that she did have time to feel something: it was the hard, exhilarating pleasure of action.

-- “Atlas Shrugged” by Ayn Rand