My objection to fame and fortune is when it is sought solely for its own sake. That’s close to the definition of vulgarity, in my book.
Creators of things of great benefit to humanity — in the sciences and the arts, say — ought be known long after they’re gone. And I have no objection to their...
^^^^
In the recent film “The Irishman” (which reviewers seem to either love or hate) is a wonderful scene of the title character buying the casket he will soon enough be occupying. It’s subtly funny and sweet and sad simultaneously.
Hanging on a hallway wall here is one of those oval...
Too often those among us looking to leave their mark on the world see that as a worthy end in and of itself.
John Wilkes Booth left his mark. So did Ted Bundy. They, and many, many others, are more famous than any of us ever will be. Good for us.
And then you have those characters who appear...
I had been thinking along similar lines — the size of the fish relative to the pond, etc.
It’s an unfortunate tendency, which I have to guard against myself, to suppose that standout performance in any particular context counts for much in other contexts. The kids don’t care that their a**hole...
Yes, of course. And grandiosity and a sense of personal importance isn’t the sole province of the more moneyed classes.
Indeed, it’s often those of lesser means who figure they’re entitled to what they ain’t got. And maybe, in some cases, they are. Maybe, in some cases, they have been shorted...
It’s not that we never see people with dirt under their fingernails giving the waitstaff (or the bank teller or the taxi driver or ...) a ration of undeserved doo-doo. If there’s a god, she knows that I’ve seen plenty of that, too.
There’s shabby behavior aplenty. We cellar-dwellers dish it out ourselves on occasion.
George Packer, in a recent essay, calls our attention to a troubling trend he calls “the moral authority of the oppressed: I am what I am, which explains my view and makes it the truth.”
It’s no less an...
Couldn’t agree more. It might be good business in the long run to do right by people (depending on the business, of course, and how long the run), but let’s not pretend that the point of going to work is at base anything other than making money.
Remember Google’s “Don’t be evil”? Protest too...
Business relationships characterized as “communities,” or, worse yet, “families.”
Of course I’d rather be on friendly terms with the people engaged in commerce with me, and many of my deepest and most lasting relationships were made on the job or in one sort of business arrangement or another...
I can see how a vulnerable person might wish to trigger her or his car alarm to attract attention to what (s)he deems a threatening situation. You know, like a person being stalked in a mostly empty parking lot at night.
I suppose I’m just lucky in that I can’t readily recall the last time I...
Lest we lose sight, it was writers and other “creatives” from the “greatest generation” (the members thereof whom I knew would likely have scoffed at such a description) who gave us indulged baby-boomers that “hip” humor.
“Allow me to introduce myself — Boris Badenov, world’s greatest no-goodnik.”
It was an era of comically conniving TV characters, bunglers all — Boris Badenov, Wile E. Coyote, Colonel Klink.
The genius of Rocky and Bullwinkle was that even with the sophisticated humor it was still a children’s show. It was obvious to any 5-year-old without a significant intellectual disability that the grifters Rocky and Bullwinkle encountered were Boris and Natasha thinly disguised. So the kids...
Yes, of course, Miss Fatale and Mr. Badenov.
I was a tad too young when the show was in first run (’59 thru ’64, I think it was) to catch even a tenth of the Cold War satire. But the reruns were regular afternoon fare on the TV stations with the high numbers well into my teenage years.
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