Least NEW! thing promoted as "NEW!"

As is my wont, I'm scanning headlines at Memeorandum this morning, and I came across this:

I'm not clicking on that. I'm just blogging to say that I graduated from law school in 1981, before the Federalist Society was created to deal with the problem that law schools only presented what the NYT would now like to repackage as an alternative. This "alternative" was mind-crushingly pervasive back then, and those who made that so are responsible for the reaction they caused. I went to law school believing I'd have the opportunity to participate in a rich debate. That didn't happen.

I see the author here is Jeffrey Toobin. I know you must say the Toobin-specific things that you always say. That's already an entry in my Dictionary of Received Idea. 

"Jim and Rachel Van Eerden had a 'barn raising' for their cabin in Stokesdale, N.C., with friends building historically accurate furniture, a contractor working on the frame..."

"... and even a blacksmith forging nails in the style of the 1850s. Their 'Walden' cabin is the first in a growing series of literature-inspired structures on their homestead property, rented out via Airbnb and VRBO. The listing explicitly warns would-be visitors about the lack of plumbing, electricity and Wi-Fi; showers and toilets are available at nearby 'Narnia cottage,' instead. Their cabin’s interior is nearly true to Thoreau’s model, with even the dents and nicks in the wood desk matching the writer’s own. They made a few additions to the structure though. 'We gave ourselves what we called the "third year liberty" where we said, "OK, if Thoreau would have stayed a third year, he would have wanted a little front porch. He would’ve wanted a garret,"' said Mr. Van Eerden...."

From "They Went to the Woods Because They Wished to Live Deliberately/Paying homage to the long-dead Transcendentalist, some people are building full-scale replicas of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden cabin" (NYT)(gift link, so you can read more and see the pictures, and read the comments, predictably from folks who just have to recite the received idea, his mother did his laundry).

"Even before 'Walden,' critics questioned Thoreau’s motivations for building and moving into his isolated cabin. 'I think he touches a lot of nerves,' said Laura Walls, a scholar of American Transcendentalism. 'What a lazy bum this guy has to be, not pulling his weight in society and isolating himself like that,' she said, paraphrasing his detractors.

"Facing down this digital firehose of – pardon the Silicon Valleyese – 'content,' how does Hollywood now decide what merits a cinema release?"

"Facing down this digital firehose of – pardon the Silicon Valleyese – 'content,' how does Hollywood now decide what merits a cinema release? What executives are looking for – at least at Sony, according to one of its partner producers I spoke with recently – is 'theatricality.' By that term, the company means films with 'the urgency to get people to leave the comfort of their homes, he says. Working out what urgency – or 'theatrical intent,' to use the marketing lingo – means is the current Hollywood obsession. Tom Cruise, for instance, interprets urgency literally – banking on personal peril in the form of old-fashioned, non-CGI stunt work to pack in the punters. It worked for 2022’s Top Gun: Maverick.... His proselytisation of real thrills in real cinemas is one way of defining theatricality – though the danger is the approach relies only on fading muscle memory of blockbusters past...."

I'm reading "All hail Avatar! How event movies are trying to bring back the box office blockbuster/Ahead of James Cameron’s latest Avatar sequel hitting the big screen, we look at how studios aim for ‘theatricality’ to get streaming film fans from sofa to cinema" (The Guardian). 

From the depth of my memory came a question that sounds like an entry for a new Dictionary of Received Ideas: Who was that French theorist who said theater must be spectacle? I believe he died putting on his shoes.

Such raw thoughts are — I think — good AI prompts. I immediately had the name: Antonin Artaud. Here's his Wikipedia article. He wrote a manifesto about what he called the Theatre of Cruelty. Here's a Grok-made chart to help you compare him to the Hollywood execs:

"I saw people who were downcast, who can take no more, who are at the end of their tether. Even a revolt is beyond them."

Said Joël Boueilh, chairman of the winemaking co-operative federation, commenting on protesters who want the French government to help the wine industry.

Quoted in "French wine industry is withering on the vine as drinkers go dry/A collapse in demand — particularly for the heavy reds produced across southern France — coupled with climate change means the end of a way of life for many" (London Times).

Boueilh adds: "France was the land of the good life where people spent a lot of time drinking and eating. But today society is changing. People may have a drink in a bar but they don’t open a bottle of wine when they sit down to eat at the table."

Is it necessarily a loss in devotion to "the good life" or did people change their conception of the good? But he didn't say "good," did he? He would have said "douceur": "« La France était le pays de la douceur de vivre, celui où l’on prenait son temps pour manger et boire ensemble autour d’une table. »

There might be other ways of being "good," but are there other ways of being "sweet"? And more important, there is a tradition of experiencing the sweetness in a particular way, with a bottle of wine on the table at meals. 

Ah! That's for France to decide! Boueilh represents the wine industry. Of course, he's going to dramatize the centrality of wine. If I buy into that, I'm just an American accepting the most easily available stereotype.

That is, it's the stuff that belongs in the new Dictionary of Received Ideas: The French: They think the good life is sitting around drinking wine all day. 

ADDED: I wanted more depth of meaning for the word "douceur," and got excellent help from Grok. 

"In his satirical 'Dictionary of Received Ideas'... Flaubert offered up a range of definitions embodying the stupid notions that silly people too readily accept."

"...  'Art': 'Leads to poorhouse. What use is it, since machines can do things better and quicker?' ... 'Bird': 'Wish you were one, saying with a sigh: "Oh, for a pair of wings!" This shows you have a poetic soul.'... By mocking these thoughts, we push ourselves past them. From this perspective, our sense that we’re getting stupider may simply reflect our determination to be smart."

Writes Joshua Rothman, in "Are We Getting Stupider? Stupidity is eternal—and more complex than we think" (The New Yorker).

"Dictionary of Received Ideas' — link goes to full text — is one of the few books that has its own tag on this blog: here. It's long been one of my favorite books, and you may have noticed my various proposals for entries in a new Dictionary of Received Ideas. If you get Flaubert's idea, maybe you can help me write this volume for my shelf of Unwritten Books. 

Actually I don't think Rothman conveys Flaubert's idea accurately. Here's a new New Yorker piece from 2013 (by Teju Cole), which explains the "Dictionnaire des Idées Reçues" like this:  "What galls Flaubert most is the inevitability, given an action, of a certain standard reaction. We could learn from his impatience: there are too many standard formulations in our language. They stand in place of thought, but we proclaim them each time—due to laziness, prejudice, or hypocrisy—as though they were fresh insight."

Anyway, what's Rothman's point about our possibly becoming stupider? He writes: 

"Biden is also known to swim naked."

Said the commenter Kevin, at my post about President Theodore Roosevelt wading, naked, in winter, in Rock Creek Park, where passersby might look on.

That made me want to look back at my post on the subject — here it is, February 17, 2021 — because I seem to remember thinking — while others evinced outrage — that it's fine and not sexual behavior to swim naked in your own pool, and if you're stuck with Secret Service protection, it's their job to endure it stoically. I'd quoted Biden:

"[L]iving in the White House.... it's a little like a gilded cage.... The vice president's residence is totally different. You're on 80 acres overlooking the rest of the city. And you can walk out. There's a swimming pool. You can walk off the porch in the summer and jump in a pool and go into work...."

I said: 

"What is distraction? Maybe it is just the need to be diverted: from the direction you originally set out on, from what it was you thought you wanted to do."

"After all, to desire something requires projecting yourself into the future—how do you know you’ll still want it when you get there? And along the way there are so many attractions, way stations, spots of time.... Now that I no longer work a forty-hour-a-week job, I tell many people I am writing a book. It is going along, I say, but slowly. How is it that so many chores, parties, trips, assignments, and plainly wasted hours intervene? Not everyone is distracted from their most cherished goals. But I think everyone is distracted from something—it is desire’s shadow, trailing behind our self-presentations. By beginning anything, we create the possibility of detours.... Research easily becomes its own distraction. Fiction writers are not unfamiliar with this crisis, having placed their character under a tree, then specifying what kind of tree it is, then wondering if that tree would be in flower at this particular time of year, whether it grows in the particular geographical region where the story takes place. We can become masters of rationalizing the inessential.... A common idea of distraction presupposes that you’re turning away from something more important that you ought to be paying attention to instead...."

Writes David Schurman Wallace in "In This Essay I Will: On Distraction" (The Paris Review).

That essay is also about Flaubert. I wasn't going to mention that, but there's a section about one of my all-time favorite books, a Flaubert book, "The Dictionary of Received Ideas."

"When it comes to distant and adversarial countries, we are taught to recognize tyranny through the use of telltale tactics of repression...."

"But when these weapons are wielded by Western governments, the precise opposite framework is imposed: describing them as despotic is no longer obligatory but virtually prohibited. That tyranny exists only in Western adversaries but never in the West itself is treated as a permanent axiom of international affairs, as if Western democracies are divinely shielded from the temptations of genuine repression. Indeed, to suggest that a Western democracy has descended to the same level of authoritarian repression as the West's official enemies is to assert a proposition deemed intrinsically absurd or even vaguely treasonous. The implicit guarantor of this comforting framework is democracy. Western countries, according to this mythology, can never be as repressive as their enemies because Western governments are at least elected democratically. The implicit guarantor of this comforting framework is democracy. Western countries, according to this mythology,

Film critic David Edelstein is fired from NPR's "Fresh Air" after he tweets a short butter joke on the occasion of the death of Bernardo Bertolucci.

The joke — accompanied by a photo of the famous scene in Bertolucci's "Last Tango in Paris" — was "Even grief is better with butter."

We're told, in the Hollywood Reporter, that there was "a backlash, which included actress Martha Plimpton." I can't see who other than Martha Plimpton wanted Edelstein fired for making a joke about the butter in that movie. That was such a common topic for humor when that movie came out. I still remember how one of my friends delivered her opinion of the movie: "It was excellent, albeit butter-covered." It was such a thing to connect Bertolucci with butter that if I'd written that modern "Dictionary of Received Ideas" I used to talk about, if I'd thought to put in an entry for Bertolucci, it would have been: Say something about butter.

So how did Edelstein go wrong? The movie has a man (Marlon Brando) and a woman (Maria Schneider) struggling through a sexual relationship, and in the "butter scene," the man tells the woman to get butter, which he uses as a lubricant for anal intercourse. I don't think any mainstream movie had ever had an explicit reference to anal intercourse, and here it was on screen, presumably simulated.

You might imagine that the problem with Edelstein's tweet was that it was too lighthearted, when a man had just died. But that wouldn't get you fired — Edelstein has done hundreds of film reviews on "Fresh Air" — and that probably wouldn't put a Hollywood actress into such a state of hostility.

But perhaps you remember what Maria Schneider said about what was done to her. As Hollywood Reporter puts it:

Schneider said in a 2007 interview that the simulated sex scene was unscripted and that she felt bullied by Bertolucci and unsupported by her co-star Marlon Brando. "I was crying real tears," said the actress, who died in 2011.

Edelstein says he didn't "didn't know the real-life story about Maria Schneider" and he didn't remember the scene as showing a rape. And he apologized:

"The line was callous and wrong even if it had been consensual, but given that it wasn't I'm sick at the thought of how it read and what people logically conclude about me. I have never and would never make light of rape, in fiction or in reality."

Is it believable that a big film critic like Edelstein missed the stories about Maria Schneider? I don't follow movies that closely, but I have 3 blog posts about Schneider's charges against Bertolucci, the third of which, from December 2016, has Bertolucci acknowledging the truth of what Schneider said:

"I wanted her to react humiliated. I think she hated me and also Marlon because we didn't tell her... to obtain something I think you have to be completely free. I didn't want Maria to act her humiliation, her rage, I wanted her to Maria to feel ... the rage and humiliation. Then she hated me for all of her life."

Bertolucci said he wanted "her reaction as a girl, not as an actress." Brando went along with this. He was 48. She was 19.

From the NYT obituary for Maria Schneider:

The role fixed Ms. Schneider in the public mind as a figurehead of the sexual revolution, and she spent years trying to move beyond the role, and the public fuss surrounding it.... “I wanted to be recognized as an actress, and the whole scandal and aftermath of the film turned me a little crazy and I had a breakdown. Now, though, I can look at the film and like my work in it.”

The famous butter scene, she said, was not in the script and made it into the film only at Brando’s insistence. “I felt humiliated and to be honest, I felt a little raped, both by Marlon and by Bertolucci,” she said. “After the scene, Marlon didn’t console me or apologize. Thankfully, there was just one take.”

How guilty is David Edelstein? He's at least guilty of not paying enough attention to the culture to have noticed and remembered this story. Why should people who listen to NPR receive his — rather than somebody else's — opinion of the various new movies that come out over the years? Why should we listen to any critic — or any radio show? I know why I'd listen to the radio show "Fresh Air" — because Terry Gross is a fantastic interviewer. Some movie critic gets to ride in her vehicle? That person is damned lucky. Should it be David Edelstein, a man who did not know of or remember what happened to Maria Schneider? Why didn't he notice? Why didn't it make an impression? Why is he so inattentive to the sexual abuse of actresses by powerful men — by Marlon Brando?!

ADDED: Here's the Martha Plimpton tweet:

*warning: rape JFC, David Edelstein. All day I’ve avoided noting this mans death precisely because of this moment in which a sexual assault of an actress was intentionally captured on film. And this asshole makes it into this joke. Fire him. Immediately. pic.twitter.com/NOITGeb7EY

— Martha Plimpton (@MarthaPlimpton) November 26, 2018

ALSO:Last year, Edelstein got feminist grief over his review of "Wonder Woman." Here's his self-defense (in New York Magazine):

"I used to enjoy occasionally pointing out that Mitt Romney had once driven his family to Canada with Seamus the Irish setter strapped to the roof of the car."

"A campaign consultant told me that the Seamus story elicited stronger reactions from focus groups than any other aspect of the 2012 campaign. Donald Trump doesn’t have any pets.... If Trump has ever in his life had a pet, his campaign doesn’t know about it. There’s some question, in fact, about whether he’s ever even had an animal friend.... Bloggers have pointed out that Trump tweets a lot of unflattering dog references. ('… cheated on him like a dog …') It is true that he does seem to specialize in insult via canine analogy. I once got a letter from him suggesting I resembled a dog. He did not seem to be thinking about my large, friendly eyes. If he wins the election, we could have the first president in history to refuse to pardon the Thanksgiving turkey."

That's NYT columnist Gail Collins, scraping the very bottom of the Get-Trump barrel.

The second-highest rated comment there is: "It's not surprising Trump doesn't have a pet. Animals can discern a person's character." As if the received wisdom that Trump is despicable is so powerful that people can think that if he had a dog, his own dog wouldn't like him. And that's the ultimate in Trump Derangement Syndrome. To think that it could jog loose the longtime received wisdom about dogs — it's in my modern Dictionary of Received Wisdom under "dogs" — Dogs always love their owners, even Hitler's dog.

"No, we’re not going to wrap this up — I’m going to wrap you up. You go sit down over there and learn something."

Said Steve Miller at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony last night.

"This is how close this whole show came to not happening because of the way the artists are being treated...."

What was his problem?

“The whole process is unpleasant.... They need to respect the artists they say they’re honoring, which they don’t.”

It seems to be about money. He didn't like the licensing agreements for the TV show of the ceremony, and he didn't like the way the tickets were distributed:

“When they told me I was inducted they said, ‘You have two tickets — one for your wife and one for yourself. Want another one? It’s $10,000. Sorry, that’s the way it goes.... What about my band? What about their wives?”

Who benefits from the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? When an artist gets in, is he mostly giving or mostly getting?  I guess it depends on the artist. Steve Miller was lucky to get in at all, wasn't he? Maybe they told him that — or suggested as much — when they drove the bargain. They have to put on a show every year, and I wonder if some people — like Miller — are brought in to fill out the concert and maybe they realize that they're second tier and treated as such. I mean, what is the process for getting in?

Janet Morrissey of The New York Times wrote, "With fame and money at stake, it's no surprise that a lot of backstage lobbying goes on. Why any particular act is chosen in any particular year is a mystery to performers as well as outsiders – and committee members say they want to keep it that way." Jon Landau, the chairman of the nominating committee, says they prefer it that way. "We've done a good job of keeping the proceedings nontransparent. It all dies in the room."...

Here's some opinion on the Hall of Fame by Mike Nesmith (in the context of responding to the controversy over whether The Monkees, who are not in, should be):

I can see the HOF is a private enterprise. It seems to operate as a business, and the inductees are there by some action of the owners of the Enterprise. The inductees appear to be chosen at the owner’s pleasure.

This seems proper to me.

It is their business in any case. It does not seem to me that the HOF carries a public mandate, nor should it be compelled to conform to one.

And that may be the rub.

The main argument afoot is that popularity and the history and the work should somehow provide the HOF not only a mandate but also validation that should compel and convince them/it, and also be enforceable.

That doesn’t seem like a good argument, but as I say – I don’t know. I rode out the hurricane in the mobile home that is all that is left standing while all about it are vacant concrete pads and stubbs of power lines.

Yes, I know. He misspelled "stubs." He misspelled "stubs" and his mother invented Liquid Paper. If you look up Mike Nesmith in the modern "Dictionary of Received Ideas," you'll read one thing: His mother invented Liquid Paper. Liquid Paper, not Wite-Out. "Wite" isn't the right way to spell "white," you know. All the errors can be corrected later, so maybe you shouldn't worry about errors anymore. Mike Nesmith moved on after the metaphorical hurricane. He was living in a metaphorical mobile home, not the metaphorical record player designed by I.M. Pei — which is not a misspelling of I Am Pay — which was bankrolled — in part — by the needy people of Cleveland.

"It's these automatic thoughts that cling to the brain like parasites that destroy thinking and reason...."

"Liberals, I think, are especially prone to this, for a bunch of reasons...."

Opines Ace, noting my Ann Althouse post "A new 'Dictionary of Received Ideas'" and giving me an idea for a new entry for my new 'Dictionary of Received Ideas.'"

Received ideas. More prevalent amongst those on the other side.

Related: "All the assholes are over on the other side."

A new "Dictionary of Received Ideas."

I've been threatening to write a new "Dictionary of Received Ideas" for years — as clicking on the "Dictionary of Received Ideas" tag will prove — so a reader sent me the link to this new New Yorker piece, by Teju Cole, which is exactly that, beginning with an explanation of the original "Dictionnaire des Idées Reçues," by Gustave Flaubert:

What galls Flaubert most is the inevitability, given an action, of a certain standard reaction. We could learn from his impatience: there are too many standard formulations in our language. They stand in place of thought, but we proclaim them each time—due to laziness, prejudice, or hypocrisy—as though they were fresh insight.

The great thing about pinning down these things is that now, anyone serving up the received idea can be forced to acknowledge that their insight is totally stale. If the book isn't written however, you're forced to say things like: If I were writing a new "Dictionary of Received Ideas," I would put [whatever you just said] next to [name the topic that had come up in conversation]. For example, to draw on a topic discussed earlier today on this blog: Travel. My entry for "Travel" would be: It broadens the mind. 

ADDED: Here is my collection, gathered from old posts. I could generate many more using my tags, but here are the 11 entries I've literally said belong in a new "Dictionary of Received Ideas," arranged alphabetically:

Action: When referring to the government, assert that it shouldn't be taken "unilaterally."
Alito: refer to him as Scalito.
Blackmun: Quote "Poor Joshua!"
Barbie: Imagine how she'd look if her proportions matched those of a real woman.
Contradiction: If accused of contradiction, quote Walt Whitman: "Do I contradict myself?/Very well then I contradict myself/(I am large, I contain multitudes.)" Shorter form: say you "contain multitudes."
David Brooks: Impressed by the crease in Barack Obama's pants.
Federal Jurisdiction: Arcane.
Mark Madoff: Hanged himself with a dog leash.
Opposed: Always add "unequivocally."
Presidential nominating conventions: Be sure to use the phrase "tightly scripted."
Weather: When cold, make wry comment about global warming.

NOTE: The entry for "Action" was written in 2004. It would need to be updated to account for the Obama years: 

Action: When referring to the government, assert that it shouldn't be taken "unilaterally." If desired action can only be taken unilaterally, say that your opponents are "obstructionist."

The "Contradiction" entry should have "see 'Consistency,' and there should be an entry:

Consistency: "The hobgoblin of little minds." Emerson said that.

UPDATE:

Bernardo Bertolucci: Say something about butter.
Justin Trudeau: His father must be Fidel Castro.
Naked President:  Quote Bob Dylan ("Even the President of the United States sometimes must have to stand naked").
Mike Nesmith: His mother invented Liquid Paper.

"[W]hen David Brooks complains that Edward Snowden is an unmediated man, I must note that in the civil society Brooks invokes..."

"... Presidents and other leaders were also mediated; they were not merely checked by Congress, courts, etc., but they were also checked by themselves, and a sense of what was proper that went beyond 'how much can I get away with now?' Obama, too, is unmediated in that sense. That Brooks couldn’t see beyond his sharply-creased pants to notice that when it was apparent to keen observers even before the 2008 election is not to his credit. If the system of civil society has failed, it is in no small part because its guardians — notably including Brooks — have also failed."

So writes Instapundit, linking to my post yesterday, which links to David Brooks's new column "The Solitary Leaker."

The reference to Brooks falling for Obama's pants crease is such a big meme that it can be the entry for "David Brooks" in the new Dictionary of Received Ideas. I tracked down a substantial discussion of it from August 2009 in The New Republic:

In the spring of 2005, New York Times columnist David Brooks arrived at then-Senator Barack Obama’s office for a chat. Brooks... had never met Obama before. But, as they chewed over the finer points of Edmund Burke, it didn’t take long for the two men to click. “I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging,” Brooks recently told me, “but usually when I talk to senators, while they may know a policy area better than me, they generally don’t know political philosophy better than me. I got the sense he knew both better than me.”

That first encounter is still vivid in Brooks’s mind. “I remember distinctly an image of--we were sitting on his couches, and I was looking at his pant leg and his perfectly creased pant,” Brooks says, “and I’m thinking, a) he’s going to be president and b) he’ll be a very good president.” In the fall of 2006, two days after Obama’s The Audacity of Hope hit bookstores, Brooks published a glowing Times column. The headline was “Run, Barack, Run.”

Here's "Run, Barack, Run." Does Brooks deserve to be derided endlessly over the fixation on the pants crease? It is hilarious. It's like Rich Lowry getting "little starbursts" from Sarah Palin's wink. You can't not bring it up. But let's remember, Brooks's vision of perfection, seen in a pant's crease, came after they conversed, in depth, about Edmund Burke. That is, the 2 men were talking, in all likelihood, about the importance of civil society.

Does Obama deserve to be called an unmediated man?

ADDED: Speaking of Brooks and legs and feelings and the summer of 2009, remember this? ("I sat next to a Republican senator once at dinner and he had his hand on my inner thigh the whole time.")

"I feel readers are poised to judge and say – if I am not willing to be mono-grateful, why spawn at all?"

"I am grateful that my body will split in half in late summer, and I will probably live through it, being a resident of the affluent west, but the gratitude is ambivalent. And, as the child grows, I meet other pregnant women and learn that we are not all living in a Barbie Gets Up the Duff Dream Palace of Fecund Ecstasy; some of us are depressed, resentful, afraid. But we are, on the whole, silent, in the shadow of the tyranny of impending motherhood."

From the first paragraph of an essay by Tanya Gold called "I am silenced by the tyranny of impending motherhood," which has the last sentence: "This is the martyrdom of an entire sex and it is foolish and childlike, made by babes."

That's in The Guardian, which I'm reading this morning because it's been scooping on the spying, so I had to puzzle over the British form of expression. Duff Dream Palace? The OED says "duff" — the colloquial adjective — means "Worthless, spurious, false, bad, ‘dud’." Example: "I went down to the pub because the play was so duff." (1965   ‘J. Lymington’ Green Drift i. 8.) Less comprehensible example: "It was said by the erks that he once sold rock on Blackpool sands. This was just ‘duff gen’." (1944   G. Netherwood Desert Squadron 10.)

In the American edition of the new Dictionary of Received Ideas, under "duff," we're told: Be sure to mention that Homer Simpson drinks Duff Beer. And as long as we're composing new entries for The Dictionary of Received Ideas, under "Barbie," let's have: Assert that Barbie's measurements fail to correspond to any real woman's measurements. And under "Motherhood"... what do you think? Gold would say: All women are mono-grateful for their impending motherhood.

Hey, Gold! The mono-gratefulness presumption is the offspring of abortion rights. In the old days — I was there — there was absolutely nothing of the kind. In fact, a standard expression was "She got in trouble."

(Here's the old Dictionary of Received Ideas, one of my favorite books. It works for 19th century France. I'd like a new one, for Americans, as I've said many times.)

"The blog is also now unending: you can scroll down indefinitely if you so wish..."

A nice feature at Andrew Sullivan's newly independent blog. This means that the blog is set to have a  number of posts on the page when you click there, but if you want more, you don't have to click to an "older posts" page (as you do here), it automatically provides new posts as you scroll. This gives a vivid depiction of what a blog really is: a pile of posts one on top of the other. For example, my blog is a stack of 32,381 posts.

Sullivan has also moved his archive, which goes back to January 2001: "I have given a sharp dagger for anyone who wants to make me look foolish – so have at it." I don't think the archive makes him look foolish. I read him all the time back then, when he called himself conservative and tried to define conservatism in new ways. Or is the appearance of foolishness not in what those old opinions were, but in the later deviations? Would you read the sort of person who would go 12 years without contradicting himself?

The Dictionary of Received Ideas — my imagined modern American version of it — has this under "contradiction":

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

That's the reflexive quotation but you can keep scrolling in that poem, Walt Whitman's tall stack of lines:

I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

Who has done his day's work? who will soonest be through
with his supper?
Who wishes to walk with me?

Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too
late?

I wait on the door-slab....

"There's no satisfaction to any Madoff loser that the son committed suicide."

"It's just tragedy on tragedy."

ADDED: All the newspapers have to say that Mark Madoff hanged himself with a dog leash. It's like "all the papers had to say was that Marilyn was found in the nude."

When does a single a death detail become irresistibly mentionable?

If only Flaubert were still here, adding entries to his "Dictionary of Received Ideas." At "Mark Madoff," we'd have "hanged himself with a dog leash."

I see Flaubert has an entry for "suicide": "Proof of cowardice."

Hamdan and the arcana of jurisdiction stripping.

Linda Greenhouse writes about the Hamdan case, to be argued in the Supreme Court Tuesday:

In the face of a measure that Congress passed and President Bush signed into law in late December to strip the federal courts of jurisdiction over cases brought by detainees at the United States naval base at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, where Mr. Hamdan has been held since 2002, the court must decide whether it retains the right to proceed with this case at all.

For a court that has been highly protective of its own prerogatives, but at the same time notably attentive to the often arcane limits on federal court jurisdiction, the question is one of great delicacy, infused with historical resonance.

In my modern "Dictionary of Received Ideas," the entry for "Federal Jurisdiction" is: call it arcane. Being arcane, it's can be a good way to dispose of pesky problems. If you want to do a little sleight of hand, jurisdiction is a good move. We Federal Jurisdiction lawprofs make it our business to detect the fakery. But it's not all fakery, and the Constitution gives Congress some powers to check the courts, including the power to cut back their jurisdiction. The questions here are whether this statute cuts even pending cases, like Hamdan's, and whether that cut back goes beyond the scope of the power.

If there is jurisdiction, then the Hamdan case will deal with the validity of using military tribunals for the Guantanamo detainees.

More on Hamdan after the oral argument.

ADDED: SCOTUSblog has a good preview, including details about a possible 4-4 split vote and what it would mean. (John Roberts has recused himself, because he participated in the case at the Court of Appeals level. There's also a controversy about whether Antonin Scalia should recuse himself, given some remarks he made about the issue recently.)

MORE: Captain Ed is pretty hard on Scalia. You know, what bothers me the most about Scalia's statement is: "I had a son on that battlefield and they were shooting at my son, and I'm not about to give this man who was captured in a war a full jury trial." Much as I respect the son's service and the father's pride in it, the interests or activities of your friends and family should have absolutely no effect on how you decide a case. Are we to think that if the enemy were only shooting at someone else's sons, he'd take a different view of the issue?

CORRECTION: I've corrected the original text to show that the argument is on Tuesday, not Monday.

"Scalito."

I'm seeing news reports that President Bush will nominate Samuel Alito for the Supreme Court. Bush needs to pick a solid nominee and put the Miers debacle behind him. Presumably, he's determined that Alito is such a person. I would give a favorable presumption to Alito, but I will need to watch the nomination and see what comes out about him.

I welcome hearing something more substantial about the man than that people call him "Scalito" to signify his similarity to Scalia and because his last name is similar enough to Scalia that people just can't hear "Alito" without wanting to say "Scalito."

Alito: refer to him as Scalito.

That is an entry that belongs in a modern "Dictionary of Received Ideas." A side benefit of his nomination would be that people might -- eventually -- get over that mental tic.

What we're most likely to be talking about reflexively -- as we always must with a Supreme Court nomination -- is abortion, and we have one very hot fact about Alito:

In the early 1990s, Alito was the lone dissenter in Planned Parenthood v. Casey, a case in which the 3rd Circuit struck down a Pennsylvania law that included a provision requiring women seeking abortions to notify their spouses.

"The Pennsylvania legislature could have rationally believed that some married women are initially inclined to obtain an abortion without their husbands' knowledge because of perceived problems - such as economic constraints, future plans or the husbands' previously expressed opposition - that may be obviated by discussion prior to the abortion," Alito wrote.

The case ended up at the Supreme Court where the justices, in a 6-3 decision struck down the spousal notification provision of the law. The late Chief Justice William H. Rehnquist cited Alito's reasoning in his own dissent.

What are we to think of his respect for the role of the legislature that claims to know better than an individual woman how well or badly things will go if her husband learns that she plans to have an abortion?

UPDATE: Here's the CNN report, which includes the line:

Legal experts consider the 55-year-old Alito so ideologically similar to Justice Antonin Scalia that he has earned the nickname "Scalito."

Oh, yes, legal experts. And you know, of course, they say it because they really have made a close study of the work of the two men and discerned a precise ideological similarity. Because legal experts wouldn't just reflexively mouth a meme.

UPDATE: Welcome Instapundit readers, and please come over to this more recent post for my discussion of why Alito is a stronger nominee than John Roberts.

Day 2 of the Roberts hearings.

I'm getting a late start, but I will persevere, beginning at the beginning, with the help of my TiVo.

Arlen Specter starts off the questioning, asking about stare decisis in general and Roe v. Wade in particular. Roberts sticks to the general and avoids the particular. Specter pushes his term "super-stare decisis" for Roe and whips out a gigantic poster listing the 38 cases that "reaffirmed" Roe v. Wade and asks if Roberts would think "Roe might be a super-duper-precedent." Roberts emphasizes that it is Casey that really matters, because that is the case where the Court addressed Roe and stare decisis and genuinely reaffirmed it. The other cases, I add, didn't so much "re-affirm" as simply accept and apply.

As noted in an earlier post today, Roberts states that he recognizes the existence of a constitutional right of privacy, but he frames his answer in a way that should appeal to conservatives as he stresses the constitutional clauses that express privacy rights. As to the rights in the penumbra, he says nothing. Instead of pursuing Roberts about that, Specter tries to get him to say Roe is a locked-in precedent. Of course, he does not.

Asked about the "notion of a Living Constitution," Roberts makes the seemingly unRehnquistian statement: "I agree that the tradition of liberty is a living thing." I say "seemingly," because it is well known that Rehnquist (like Scalia and many conservatives) rejected the notion that the Constitution changes to keep up with the times, but Roberts didn't say that it did. He said that "tradition" is a living thing. Whether the ongoing, living tradition of liberty makes its way into the interpretation of constitutional clauses containing the word "liberty" is another question. If Specter were sharper, he would have done a follow-up question.

Patrick Leahy asks a series of questions about separation of powers. "Isn't this hornbook law?" he asks when Roberts can't answer a difficult question about whether Congress can vote to stop a war. Leahy seems peeved that the answer isn't an obvious consequence of the power to declare war. Roberts handles these questions well, even though Leahy frequently interrupts him.

Questioning Roberts about standing doctrine, Leahy misses the entire point by not recognizing that injuries to the environment are enough to give a person standing. He blurs them into the same category as no injury at all. Roberts sincerely sorts through basic doctrine — this really is "hornbook law" — and doesn't make it excessively obvious that Leahy doesn't understand what he's trying to talk about. Leahy mumbles his way into another interruption talking about — what? — tennis star? Oh, Kenneth Starr. Oh, lord, I wish Leahy's turn was up!

Orrin Hatch lays out the various methodologies of constitutional interpretation, taking categories from a Cass Sunstein book. Roberts doesn't like the labels and calls himself a "modest judge." He goes on to speak comfortably and fluently about how judges ought to behave, and it makes me think that Hatch lobbed him a nice nerf ball. The Hatch questioning makes a lovely resting point for Roberts — and yet he's saying a lot of basic things that are useful for people to hear. "It is emphatically the province and duty of the judicial department to say what the law is" — I try to say that at least once a week myself.

Roberts expresses confidence in the ability of judges to draw difficult lines. There is a difference between "making the law" and "finding the law," and judges know when they've crossed the line dividing the legislative from the judicial, he says. He thinks some judges go too far deferring to the legislature on the theory that they can't draw that line and can't say what the limit on Congress's power is, but deference to the legislature is also important, he elegantly adds.

Ted Kennedy invokes Katrina to bring up his themes of poverty and inequality. He outlines the history of civil rights cases and laws and asks Roberts to state that the progress that has been made is "irreversible." Kennedy becomes extremely antagonistic to Roberts over various issues — you can refer to the transcript for the details — interrupting Roberts repeatedly and looking quite angry. Several times, Arlen Specter has to tell Kennedy to let Roberts finish. At one point, when Roberts is just beginning an answer, Kennedy seems to snap "Roberts" at him, with no "Judge" or "Mr." in front of the name, and we rewind several times to try to figure out if Kennedy was indeed that rude. I still don't know, due to Kennedy's irritating garbling. Kennedy might have some good points to get out, but his anger and rudeness thoroughly undercut his presentation.

Chuck Grassley reads some legal material in a too-loud voice and asks Roberts to opine on it. The exchange with Grassley is very similar to the one with Hatch. Courts decide cases according to the law, you know. I'm trying to resist hitting the fast-forward button.

I succumb to temptation and fast-forward a bit. I stop at a point where I see Roberts' wife yawning. First laugh of the day, I think.

Joe Biden begins by saying "Hey, Judge. How are ya?" Then, "Look, Judge, uh, I'm gonna try to cut through some stuff if I can." What are the chances that Roberts is fooled into thinking he's facing an amiable, jovial pal? Biden goes on at length playing with yesterday's baseball metaphor and really gets on my nerves. When will he get to a question? Finally, he gets to the question whether Roberts thinks there is a right of privacy in the Fourteenth Amendment. Good! Roberts: "I do, Senator." But he can't extract much detail after that, as the two men get bogged down in how much Justice Ginsburg revealed when she endured her Senate hearings.

C-Span breaks away for its ritual of the opening of the House of Representatives, and Biden is ousted by those inconsequential 5 minute speeches. What an indignity! So, I must fast-forward.

It's time for Herb Kohl. Kohl gets Roberts to say that he believes in the right of privacy articulated in Griswold, as later framed in terms of substantive due process. That is to say, he doesn't endorse the notion of rights in the penumbra of the Constitutional clauses, as stated in the case. Roberts puts the right into the due process clause, as later cases did. But how big is this privacy right? Roberts will only say that it covers at least what Griswold spoke about — married persons' right to use contraceptives. The reason he would talk about that but not abortion is that he's sure that there would never be another case on that subject. That's a neatly framed position! It stops those who would try to destroy him for not believing in the right, but it commits him to nothing that he might actually decide.

Kohl is a mellow questioner.
Mike DeWine raises some interesting issues about FISA courts and then free speech. He doesn't so much seem to be testing John Roberts as publicizing legal issues of note. Now he's getting to a case I'm especially interested in, Garrett, which one of the Senators yesterday misrepresented as finding the Americans With Disabilities Act unconstitutional. (The Court merely found part of act not to be supported by the Fourteenth Amendment power, which meant that Congress could not abrogate state sovereign immunity. To put it simply, that limits plaintiffs to prospective relief when the defendant is one of the states.) DeWine's question is about judicial deference to congressional factfinding. The problem in Garrett was that Congress needed to find not just that persons with disabilities had suffered discrimination, but that their Fourteenth Amendment rights had been violated. There is a big discrepancy between these two things, however, because this kind of discrimination only needs to pass a minimal scrutiny test not to violate the Equal Protection Clause. So it's not really "factfinding" that was at stake in Garrett, but legal analysis about what rights are, which is the approprate role of the courts. But what Roberts talks about is how later cases — Hibbs and Lane — have been more deferential to Congress and how the the law in this area is still evolving. Basically, he is distancing himself from Garrett, which many people find distinctly unsympathetic. Roberts does not make any effort to explain the actual legal issue in Garrett. I'm sure that was a smart move, actually, rather than to try to explain the legal point I just did. No one would appreciate it.

Dianne Feinstein asks about several quotes that seem to reflect insufficient concern about women's rights. When he explains that the crack about encouraging homemakers to become lawyers was a joke, she chides him about his tone. Why isn't he modest and humble all the time? God forbid anyone should ever have a light moment and try to get on the Court. She moves on to ask about the Commerce Clause. He calls attention to the recent Raich case, emphasizing how broad the power the Court has recognized is and how minor Lopez and Morrison were. Feinstein brings up the separation of church and state and makes the blatantly untrue assertion that there is more divisiveness among religious groups now than ever before in our history. She tries to get him to state a belief in "the absolute separation of church and state." Of course, he doesn't. He says he doesn't know what the concept means, indicating that he sees Establishment Clause questions as complex, making me think he'll continue the trend of cutting the cases down the middle and offering up no clear answers.

Hey, it's grueling listening through all of this. It must be hard on John Roberts. It's just weird to have to sit there and be grilled all day long. Ah, but he'll have to work long and hard on the Court. Why not test his stamina?

Jeff Sessions. I'm skipping this one. Sorry.

Russ Feingold. First question: Why not televise the Court's arguments? Please say yes! Roberts talks way too much here, for some reason. Maybe he's trying to run out Feingold's time. Second question: How did September 11th affect your thinking about the law? Again, he gets weirdly chatty, telling the story of how he heard about the attacks unusually late, which was interesting but utterly irrelevant. Again, I'm thinking he's trying to eat up Feingold's time. Really strange! He hasn't done this to any of the other questioners. Feingold pushes him to focus on the question of undervaluing rights during wartime. This part is productive. Roberts is fairly noncommittal, but shows a somber concern about rights, as, of course, he must. He flatly rejects Korematsu.

Lindsey Graham wants to talk to Roberts "about life." He circles around a bit and hits on the question: what was Rehnquist's legacy? Roberts' answer is too generic for Graham, so Graham blurts out what he cares about: you're going to be like Rehnquist, aren't you? He follows up by asking what Bush meant by introducing him as a "strict constructionist" and then what is meant by the Reagan Revolution. Graham makes no secret of his goal of establishing that Roberts is conservative. Then he blasts all the Democrats in the room for thinking Bush would or should do anything other than nominate a conservative. Moving to particular substantive questions, he throws out the best-phrased question of the day: "I think it stinks that somebody can burn the flag, and that's called speech. Whaddya think about that?" Another Grahamism (about the ACLU): "In the conservative world, how does that rank on the food chain?" I'm amused again, but what is Roberts supposed to say about that? Graham rants about Justice Ginsburg, who, among other things, wants to do away with Mother's Day and Father's Day. I think I hear a gasp from the audience. You know, Graham is amusing me — more than anyone else today — but I think his tone is a bit clownish for the occasion. Still, he works his way to the bottom line deftly. The Republicans voted for Ginsburg, though she was clearly liberal: "They deferred to President Clinton because he won the election."

Sitting behind Roberts are three women (one of whom is his wife) dressed in neat, pastel colored suits. All have tasteful jewelry, sleekly nyloned legs, and the absolute obligation to sit still on stiff chairs. I'm starting to feel really sorry for them!

Uh-oh. It's Schumer. He says, "So you will be Chief Justice." Okaaaay. If Schumer's saying that, then can we all just please go home? Schumer admits to being "pleasantly surprised" by some of his answers. He sounds bored by his own disquisition. The Constitution is supported by "three legs"? I expected Schumer to be more of an attack dog. But he knows this is pointless. The cameras pick up Leahy and Specter, who seem to be finding this all very tedious. Or am I projecting? It's 10:43 here now and I've been trying to get through this since 2:30. Schumer introduces the topic of Wickard v. Filburn, then goes "ummm," in a tone that — to me — says, oh f**k, who's going to care about Wickard v. Filburn?

John Cornyn. Sorry, I'm skipping this one too. I expect him to support Roberts, so nothing much can happen here.

Dick Durbin is blabbing about Justice Blackmun, who, according to the Dictionary of Received Ideas, stands for the infusion of human emotion into judicial decisionmaking. One must quote the phrase "Poor Joshua!"

My C-Span recording shifts over to covering some vote on the House floor, where it stays until the end. So I've won a reprieve! There's nothing left for me to TiVo-blog. So there will be no Sam Brownback for me. (I don't care. He was boring.) And no Tom Coburn. No Cryin' Tom. Damn! Not really. I've had enough. I can't believe these characters are going to dribble on for another day.

I wonder what John Roberts will do tonight. I suppose he has to spend the whole evening going over the details of today's performance with his various advisors. But I'd like to think he didn't. I'd like to think he went home and had a nice dinner and a glass of wine with his wife, spent the evening playing Uno with his kids, went to bed early, and is now sleeping soundly. Dreaming — of what? Gloriously striped robes.