On March 8, 2011, feminists observed the centenary of International Women’s Day—a day when we remember the struggles of women in the fight against gender discrimination, and celebrate the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future. I would like to dedicate this post to the smallest of women: those who have not yet seen the light of day, but for whom Jesus also died. These smallest women, still unborn, have been generated in the heart of God, and have been a part of His perfect plan from the moment of creation. * * * * * In the early 1960s, when the National Organization of Women was just gathering steam and abortion was still illegal in America, being a feminist was a good thing. Those were the years when discrimination was real and often severe. Letter carriers were called “mailmen,” police officers were “policemen,” because those government positions were not available to women. Employment policies decreed that women could not hold certain management-level positions; that women would train men, who would then become their bosses, but that women could not be considered for advancement; that pregnant women would be required to resign by the seventh month of gestation. Many women did not drive automobiles. Few worked outside the home. But change was coming. Gloria Steinem, founder of Ms. magazine, popularized the witticism “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” New York’s Bella Abzug led the way for women into the halls of Congress and co-founded the National Women’s Political Caucus. “Equal pay for equal work” became the mantra of the1960s gender feminists. Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, Eleanor Smeal and other prominent feminists in the ‘60s and early ‘70s decried the fact that a woman was only considered “valuable” to the extent that she was wanted by a man—either her father or her husband . “No,” the feminists rightly exclaimed, “EVERY woman has an inherent dignity, regardless of her marital status.” The innate value of all women was a battle cry for the women’s movement at its offset. How ironic, then—how unthinkable—that only a few years later they should abandon that line of reasoning for the convenience of the “women’s rights” movement, hitching their wagon to “a woman’s right to choose.” For just as a woman is invaluable because she has been created by God, so, too, is the unborn child—the fetus or, before that, the embryo—precious, because God has crafted it in His likeness, has imbued it with life, has granted it a dignity which remains, regardless whether or not it was “chosen” and is desired by its mother. * * * * * One of the classic defenses of the value of the human person in America is a speech delivered in 1851 by a former slave, Sojourner Truth. She was speaking at the Women’s Convention in Akron, Ohio, in 1851, as women were clamoring for equal rights. In honor of Sojourner Truth, and of all persons whom God has created, I reprint her remarks in their entirety. AIN’T I A WOMAN? By Sojourner Truth Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that ‘twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what’s all this here talking about? That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain’t I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain’t I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most sold off into slavery, and when I cried out with my mother’s grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain’t I a woman? Then they talk about this thing in the head; what’s this they call it? [member of audience whispers, “intellect”] That’s it, honey. What’s that got to do with women’s rights or negroes’ rights? If my cup won’t hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn’t you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full? Then that little man in black there, he says women can’t have as much rights as men, ‘cause Christ wasn’t a woman! Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him. If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them. Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain’t got nothing more to say.
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For Black History Month: Sojourner Truth and the Liberation of America’s Smallest Women
On March 8, 2011, feminists observed the centenary of International Women’s Day—a day when we remember the struggles of women in the fight against gender discrimination, and celebrate the economic, political and social achievements of women past, present and future. I would like to dedicate this post to the smallest of women: those who have not yet seen the light of day, but for whom Jesus also died. These smallest women, still unborn, have been generated in the heart of God, and have been a part of His perfect plan from the moment of creation. * * * * * In the early 1960s, when the National Organization of Women was just gathering steam and abortion was still illegal in America, being a feminist was a good thing. Those were the years when discrimination was real and often severe. Letter carriers were called “mailmen,” police officers were “policemen,” because those government positions were not available to women. Employment policies decreed that women could not hold certain management-level positions; that women would train men, who would then become their bosses, but that women could not be considered for advancement; that pregnant women would be required to resign by the seventh month of gestation. Many women did not drive automobiles. Few worked outside the home. But change was coming. Gloria Steinem, founder of Ms. magazine, popularized the witticism “A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.” New York’s Bella Abzug led the way for women into the halls of Congress and co-founded the National Women’s Political Caucus. “Equal pay for equal work” became the mantra of the1960s gender feminists. Gloria Steinem, Betty Friedan, Eleanor Smeal and other prominent feminists in the ‘60s and early ‘70s decried the fact that a woman was only considered “valuable” to the extent that she was wanted by a man—either her father or her husband . “No,” the feminists rightly exclaimed, “EVERY woman has an inherent dignity, regardless of her marital status.” The innate value of all women was a battle cry for the women’s movement at its offset. How ironic, then—how unthinkable—that only a few years later they should abandon that line of reasoning for the convenience of the “women’s rights” movement, hitching their wagon to “a woman’s right to choose.” For just as a woman is invaluable because she has been created by God, so, too, is the unborn child—the fetus or, before that, the embryo—precious, because God has crafted it in His likeness, has imbued it with life, has granted it a dignity which remains, regardless whether or not it was “chosen” and is desired by its mother. * * * * * One of the classic defenses of the value of the human person in America is a speech delivered in 1851 by a former slave, Sojourner Truth. She was speaking at the Women’s Convention in Akron, Ohio, in 1851, as women were clamoring for equal rights. In honor of Sojourner Truth, and of all persons whom God has created, I reprint her remarks in their entirety. AIN’T I A WOMAN? By Sojourner Truth Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that ‘twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what’s all this here talking about? That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain’t I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain’t I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most sold off into slavery, and when I cried out with my mother’s grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain’t I a woman? Then they talk about this thing in the head; what’s this they call it? [member of audience whispers, “intellect”] That’s it, honey. What’s that got to do with women’s rights or negroes’ rights? If my cup won’t hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn’t you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full? Then that little man in black there, he says women can’t have as much rights as men, ‘cause Christ wasn’t a woman! Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him. If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them. Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain’t got nothing more to say.
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For Black History Month: Sojourner Truth and the Liberation of America’s Smallest Women
Well, of course they’re going to smack me. The other day I looked into a post at National Review on Newt Gingrich by the estimable Elliot Abrams. In short, after reading the Gingrich Special Order cited by Abrams I found his post to be grossly misleading. And reporting what I found, so too did others who took a look at the same Special Order from start to finish. Mark Levin read it and agreed completely. He’s a Santorum fan… but he was incensed at the misrepresentation of Newt’s ties to the Reagan-era. He was there in the day, as was I. I heard from others as well, and not all Newt Gingrich people. Yes, Rush was so amazed he read a good bit of the piece on air, doubtless adding to the heat. Sean Hannity discussed, Mr. Levin was furious — and Mr. Hannity was more than kind to go on the Levin show moments before his own TV show to defend me. A personal and public thanks to all of them for
A struggling soap-opera actor has reportedly taken his own life following regret after euthanizing his dog due to pressure from his Upper West Side condo management. The New York Post reports that friends of 47-year-old Nick Santino say that the actor wrote in his suicide note “Today I betrayed my best friend and put down my best friend.” “Rocco trusted me and I failed him. He didn’t deserve this.” US Weekly reports that Santino had appeared on seven episodes of All My Children and six episodes of Guiding Light , and had been feeling “harassed” by his building management company, according to his neighbor Lia Pettigrew. US reports on the sad turn of events: “He was allegedly threatened with a $250 fine for having a barking dog, but according to neighbor Kevan Cleary, ‘the dog was not a barker, but somebody complained that the dog would bark.’ Santino phoned a former girlfriend at 2 a.m. Wednesday. Police found Santino’s body in his bedroom later that afternoon. The actor had overdosed on pills.” Rocco was Euthanized on Santino’s birthday. The Post reports that Santino was born in Brooklyn and raised in an orphanage and foster homes. The actor adopted Rocco from a shelter several years ago, and often mentioned his pet on Facebook, writing “I did not rescue Rocco, Rocco rescued me.” The Post reports that Rocco has been cremated, and friends said Santino’s remains will be too, and they will be reunited. NY Post : A member of the condo board that soap actor Nick Santino said pressured him to euthanize his pit bull — a “betrayal” that drove him to suicide — refused to accept any responsibility for the double tragedy yesterday. “I’m sorry the man is dead,” board member Marilyn Fireman barked to The Post, “But it has nothing to do with the pet policy.” “You just assumed that [his suicide] was a result of a board’s decision,” Fireman said, even though Santino routinely griped about the building’s anti-dog policies. Heartbroken relatives of the actor — who had stints on “All My Children” and “Guiding Light” — have retrieved the ashes of Rocco and plan to place them beside Santino’s body when he is laid to rest. More: Soap Actor Commits Suicide After Having to Put Down His Own Dog
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Soap Actor Commits Suicide After Having to Put Down His Own Dog
Tuesday It was a dreary, drizzly day in Los Angeles. My wife and I and all of our dogs decided to go down to Rancho Mirage. Before we left, I had a nice morning reading sad stories about the economy, especially one about how banks had so much cash, so much more cash than they had good uses for, that they were discouraging people from saving. Interest rates on deposits are trivial, as we all know. Now, the New York Times reports that some banks are actually charging customers to allow those people to deposit money with them. That means interest rates are negative. As far as I am aware, the last time this happened was in the worst days of the Great Depression. We are in a classic Keynesian “liquidity trap.” That means when the Fed pumps more money into the system, it doesn’t get used for new plants or expansion, but just stays in the most liquid form, like the shortest term Treasury instruments. Again, this is exactly what Keynes said would happen when an economy reached stasis at a level well below full employment. Kids, I hate to break this to you, but it sure looks as if Keynes had this part of the present-day situation nailed down. The part about what you do about it–well, that part is still a bit of a sticky wicket. I doubt if most Americans, even very learned Americans like Wlady, know that the Great Depression only ended with Pearl Harbor. Not until we got full national mobilization and unlimited war production did the Great Depression end. Unemployment was well into double digits as of late 1941. That was after every kind of New Deal program. Only stupendous national government spending got us going. No chance of that now, right? No, wrong. It’s worse than that. We are already having massive deficit spending and it’s truly massive. We spend about $40 billion each day more than we take in at the federal level. We still have 9 percent unemployment and a prostrate housing sector. Either Keynes was wrong about that deficit spending or we have to do it at a full mobilization level, where we quadruple federal spending deficits or something like that. That’s not going to happen. What do we do? Monetary policy just will not work when there is zero enthusiasm in the business world. Neither will deficit spending. A friend suggested that we make it illegal to be unemployed. If you are still unemployed, while in good health, after six months, you will be assigned a job as sorter of books at a postal facility or a trash picker-upper at Zuma Beach or a schoolteacher in Brentwood Park. You won’t get any more unemployment comp. unless you take the job. This sounds like a good idea to me, but probably most people would consider it too severe. I go back to what I keep saying: for some of the unemployed, the fault genuinely is theirs. They are just not looking to work. For others, obviously not. They really are suffering. Their pain is in no way their own fault. But compulsory work? Is that a bad idea? I guess sometimes, yes, sometimes, no. What about housing? Here, it’s just a catastrophe. What on earth will we do? Surely, the solution is not to take away the tax deduction for mortgage interest. That makes no sense at all. Before my wife and I set out, Phil DeMuth and I had lunch at Nonna, a great Italian café. We had unbelievably good pizza. Most of the time we talked about my favorite novel, The Great Gatsby . Topics: Was Gatsby Jewish? I think he must have originally been in Fitzgerald’s mind. “Gatsby” or “Catesby” is often a cover name for Katz. Gatsby had the very Jewish combination of superficial toughness and extreme sentimentality we Jews often have. Plus, he was great pals with the notorious fictitious mobster Meyer Wolfsheim, and I wonder if Wolfsheim would have trusted a Gentile with his highly secretive business. Other topic: Is The Great Gatsby about money or about love? Or is it about the worship of money, which in Fitzgerald’s eyes was the American religion? Isn’t Fitzgerald really all about money? Other topic: Do today’s students even read Fitzgerald? If not, what can they read that remotely compares with Fitzgerald? Or does asking the question show a hopeless antiquity in taste on my part? Other topic: Why does anyone even bother to write novels when none of them can come even close to Fitzgerald? Well, that’s not true. Philip Roth and Saul Bellow and Herb Gold at their best are awfully good. Still, the decline in novel-writing skills is palpable and pitiful. It’s fun talking to Phil. He’s smart and extremely well informed. Finally, we dragged our carcasses out of the house and headed for the open road. Or, sort of open. We made excellent time getting down to Rancho Mirage, but I am bound to say that when we got to our favorite shopping center here, it was a depressing sight. There is so much empty storefront it scares me. There are so few shoppers that it’s worrisome. It’s getting really sad. Then, swimming at night under the stars. That was nice. I was up a lot of the night feeling ill, maybe from some ancient leftovers I had. Well, who cares? I am a one percenter, destined for the ash heap of history. My stories are stories of the discredited parasites and looters of the rapacious free market system, where the freedom is just slavery for the poor students. I just hope before I am shot I can help the students get their loans canceled. That might atone for my having a swimming pool. Tuesday UP AND OUT to a dermatologist to have some moles and skin tags removed. I think this guy might have been working with Adbusters, the anti-Jewish group who started OWS, that says it’s just anti-Israel. (“Tell me another,” as Diane Keaton says when her Arab terrorist lover says they aren’t anti-Semitic in the movie, the great movie, The Little Drummer Girl .) This doctor left me with four fewer blemishes (I hope) but with searing pain all over my neck. That’s not good. As I lay in bed afterward, contemplating my (well-deserved for being pro–free market) pain, I looked out at my sleeping dogs, and beyond them at the pool and the golf course. How I wish I had the power to allow Occupy The Desert protesters to camp there, leave their feces there, bang drums all night. That’s the kind of work that builds a great world. But to return for just a moment to sanity, or a heartless one percenter’s view of sanity (actually, I take that back… Warren Buffett told me recently that by his measurements I am barely middle class…), the economy is in such a mess for retirees in particular it’s genuinely cruel. The Fed’s worthless cheap money policy means zero interest for savers. That hits us old people very hard. Plus, only a very confident man or woman counts on the stock market for gains right now. Our homes, once the rock of our retirement hopes, are now essentially worthless. They have an appraised value. Yes, that is true. But they never sell. So, basically, they are worthless. Most of us don’t get company pensions. That was the previous generation. Only civil servants get really juicy pensions now–and that won’t last. So, as my neck feels as if a vampire bit it (no more than I deserve), I had a sudden revelation. Two sudden revelations: One, you can still find stocks that will do very well even when unemployment is high. In fact, the whole index can do fine when unemployment is high. We know that, because it’s happened. It’s happening right now. The second thing I thought of in my haze of pain is that you can still earn 3, 4, or 5 percent on your savings by using them to pay off your mortgages. You earn every dollar less of mortgage interest you pay just as if you had it in the bank. So, there. (I am doing ads for a company that helps you do that. Paid ads.) I felt pretty good about thinking of that. I slept while listening to Mozart, swam, and then headed off to Pavilions to shop for groceries. The whole immense cathedral to American plenty was deserted. Just empty. Just like a warehouse. I looked for Le Sueur canned peas. Baby little peas. TWO FIFTY A CAN! Can you even believe that the government says there is no inflation? Earth to the Bureau of Labor Statistics…have you tried shopping at a grocery store lately? Or is this just a one percenter’s evil grocery store? No, it’s a great grocery store, so now, let’s add “stagflation” to our problems. But here’s the good part. If the government cannot solve our problems, we can solve them ourselves. The government has used all of its “mojo,” all of its “magic.” Now, the “magic” has to be our own hard work and frugality and imagination. But we have plenty of magic, so let’s rock and roll. As a government, we’re tapped out. As a nation of 308 million energetic people, we can do anything. Even with 100 million energetic, creative people, we can do anything. Look at tiny Israel, with only 7 million people, and a super industrial powerhouse–and that’s with a lot of them just “dovenning” all day. We can do it. If Israel can do it, we can do it. Thursday I AWAKENED and for some reason, my sister–I have the best sister on the planet–had sent me a poem about working and love and Wagner and Cadillacs. It made me truly sob, partly because my grandfather had worked at Ford Motor in Highland Park in the ’20s and partly because I am not sure you can truly know what love is until you know what work is. As I read it, I realized that I have to write a book about what life was like with RN, back in 1973-74 in the Watergate days. The main reason I have to write it is because we all worked like demons and we all loved each other like brothers and sisters. That was the best job I ever had. We were committed. I am still extremely close with the man who worked next to me, John R. Coyne, Jr., and the man who worked next to us, Aram Bakshian, but also with Ken Khachigian and Dave Gergen. I wish I saw more of Pat Buchanan and Ann Morgan and Ray Price. I am still close to Julie and David Eisenhower and I can never describe how much I admire them. I pity the poor haters in the media and the left who will never know the feeling we hard-working brothers had at the White House back in those days, when we struggled to keep in place The Peacemaker, Richard M. Nixon. (My delightful niece, Emily, said there were so many tears in the Stein family when Nixon was in trouble that she assumed RN was my father’s brother–and she was right.) “What Work Is” by Philip Levine We stand in the rain in a long line waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work. You know what work is–if you’re old enough to read this you know what work is, although you may not do it. Forget you. This is about waiting, shifting from one foot to another. Feeling the light rain falling like mist into your hair, blurring your vision until you think you see your own brother, and of course it’s someone else’s brother, narrower across the shoulders than yours but with the same sad slouch, the grin that does not hide the stubbornness, the sad refusal to give in to rain, to the hours wasted waiting, to the knowledge that somewhere ahead a man is waiting who will say, “No, we’re not hiring today,” for any reason he wants. You love your brother, now suddenly you can hardly stand the love flooding you for your brother, who’s not beside you or behind or ahead because he’s home trying to sleep off a miserable night shift at Cadillac so he can get up before noon to study his German. Works eight hours a night so he can sing Wagner, the opera you hate most, the worst music ever invented. How long has it been since you told him you loved him, held his wide shoulders, opened your eyes wide and said those words, and maybe kissed his cheek? You’ve never done something so simple, so obvious, not because you’re too young or too dumb, not because you’re jealous or even mean or incapable of crying in the presence of another man, no, just because you don ‘ t know what work is.
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Searching for a Way Out
