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Saturday, 25 July 2009
Some of my best friends have poor little genitals
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That got you reading, didn't it? I was referring to Nabokov's "poor little genitals" and Hugh's contention that what a man does with them is irrelevant to the quality of his thoughts. Just as irrelevant, obviously, is whether the genitals are male or female and what colour they are. In his treatment of Henry Gates, Sergeant Crowley showed a colour-blind professionalism, and for this he was criticised by the President., whose skin is half-white, and whose thoughts are half-baked.

I notice that Sergeant Crowley felt the need to justify his impartiality by referring to the time when he gave black basketball star mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. On that occasion, as on this, he was simply doing his job. Suppose, however, that the player had been white, and that Crowley had no example of saving a black man to "make up for" the black man he arrested. Suppose none of his friends are black.

I would say "So what?" So would most New English Review readers, and any right-thinking people who believe that colour is simply irrelevant. But, as reader and contributor Tina Trent points out in the comments to my post, it would be a lot worse for him:

Imagine what would be happening if this particular officer had not previously engaged in a tremendous amount of proactive "anti-racism" activity, if he merely went about his job in a fair manner but didn't possess a paper trail documenting his good anti-racist intentions. For he has the paper trail and is still being castigated and disbelieved and hated in many circles.  Above all else, this gives the lie to the effect of the diversity/anti-racism industry -- it is never enough.  You can never "do" enough once you accept its terms, that white society is inherently oppressive and must be endlessly "interrogated" and policed.  I hope the police officer does not yield to pressure to become one of those professional apologists for other, less enlightened whites -- a path that some understandably take, in a game hopelessly stacked against them, simply to avoid being targeted for more abuse. 

Tina Trent knows great deal about crime and policing; her blog is packed with common sense and facts. Her thoughts on this matter, unlike Obama's, are well worth reading. Meanwhile, any white police officer, doctor, or other professional who wants to avoid the stigma of "racism", should make sure he gets himself some black friends, just so he can say some of his best friends are black. Even if he lives in Norfok, where there is scarcely a black face to be seen.

Here's an idea: blacks could hire themselves out as friends to deprived white people seeking to protect themselves against lawsuits. So could other favoured victim groups.  A gay, black woman could make a fortune as a diversity escort.

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Posted on 07/25/2009 6:56 AM by Mary Jackson
Comments
26 Jul 2009
Send an emailTina Trent

 Well, it looks as if this will be the case: the officer will meet with Gates, and Gates plans to turn the incident into a "teaching moment."  

Teaching Moment, as in cudgeling the rest of us with his version of events while drawing a fat paycheck.  Again.

That is why they call it re-education.   

 



25 Jul 2009
Send an emailreactionry
 
Fitzgerald's* Poor Little Genitals
Or: Hugh** Nabs Unpublished Nabokov Manuscript!
Or: A Rebuttable Presumption & A Proveable Phallus
Or: The Great American Navel
Or: All Politics Is Yokel
Or: Boxing Day Of The Dead
Or: Is (Mary) Jackson Like A Stone Wall?
Or: The Importance Of Being Ernest Hemingway
Or: We'll Always Have There Is Never Any End To Paris 
Or: Pull The Other Leg (see "Tripod")
Or: Getting Rorke's Drift
Or: Zulu In The Mealy Bags
 
I could not help but post the above detention-getting headline (see NER's rustication or school of hard er, knocks) after thinking of it several days ago and then noting Mary's twist on the snickers.  GMTA and all that and a bag of fish and chips, even if one of the gnasty, gnarly minds belongs to a Minnesota local yokel and the other presumably dwells where GMT is local.
 
I had earlier deigned to add an explanation to "Queer Street" to the effect that it was a boxing term, having naught to do with say, the Stonewall riots, given the breadth of knowledge of NER's staff and readers.  Ernest Hemingway, who was apt to ape pugilism, came swimmingly from Cuba to mind when reading a column by A.E. Hotcher, published in the Mpls./St. Paul Red Star Tribune in which he kvetches about the attempt by a grandson of EH to "bowdlerize" the great man's great works.  Shades of the sale of Nabokov's (hopefully [shudder] unaltered) The Original of Laura by his son, Dmitri, to Hugh Hefner!
 
Hot-udder-under-the-collar Hotchner tries to put said grandson and publisher's teat in the wringer with:
 
As an author, I am concerned by Scribner's involvement in this "restored edition." With this reworking as a precedent, what will Scribner do, for instance, if a descendant of F. Scott Fitzgerald demands the removal of the chapter in "A Moveable Feast" about the size of Fitzgerald's penis, or if Ford Madox Ford's grandson wants to delete references to his ancestor's body odor.
 
 
I know better than to try to pull the lambskin over NER's wise and woolly staff by asserting that both versions of EH's last swill and testicles will soon be published online by Project Gutenberg as A Moveable Type. -Or that some of the ol' Great Gatsby's genome has been sequenced (though not from anything as new-fangled or novel as saved cord blood) in hopes of cloning astronauts for a mission of Great Scott Tissue To Uranus.
 
Because of the boxing thang, Mickey Rourke, though not the Fountainhead fictive, Howard Roark, came swingingly to mind, as did both, swimmingly in the blood of the "butcher's bill" of the movie, Zulu, upon reading EW's spelling of "Rourke's Drift" (I'm pathetically dependent upon Google and AOL's spell checker)in her otherwise fine piece, Zulu in the Flea Pit.  Also, though I hate to bugger the question - Didn't the Beeb broadcast cartoons on Saturday mornings way back then?
 
* No, not Hugh or Hugh Jorgen, nor Ella nor Zelda, Fitzgerald, but F. Scott.
** No, not Mr. Fitzgerald, but the publisher "known to his intimates as 'Ner' "


25 Jul 2009
Esmerelda Weatherwax

Steve of Pub Philosopher who is a friend of this blog had this cartoon from the Grauniad 'Claire in the Community'