The Journal


Serving the Metropolitan Area


Since 1872



September 14th




By Jack Parnell - retired Congressman and Independent Presidential candidate


Syndicated by Acme Features



"It's not always best, in the long run, to maximize pleasure or freedom in the short run."




- Mike Barone, in the Washington Post



"You're neither one thing nor the other, you see. A really grand sinner must be a man who is bold and who makes up his mind. And so you must be melted up."




- The Button-Moulder to Peer Gynt


          Now and again, I've made referral to the Squeamish; one of Amurka's most unpleasant constituencies as a body can encounter. Almost as intransigent as the China lobby, though not half so generous. As I will explain, in good time, Virtuecrats tend to fly off the right wing, the neo-lib politically correct off the left... Squeamishness, well, call it the ugly gutbucket of the bat, as both wings sprout from.

          The Squeamish (as distinct from Amish, who live simply and produce useful commodities) live mental lives of great complexity in looking for stuff to take offense at... usually "on behalf of" lesser creatures that they look down upon with avarice and pity... children, minorities, fetii, animals, rainforests... all of whom, mostly, wish heartily that the Squeamish would simply go away. Most are well-off and educated, if superficially... "I think that activism itself is a privilege," one talking head let the snake out of that bag. "Let's face it, to be able to go to all of these meetings you have to have either some kind of economic, educational, or other kind of privilege."

          I guess that you could make the case for Squeamishness being a product of the Hollywood fifties. Black and white sitcoms like Ozzie, Father Knows Best and the Beaver posited a rote community of white picket fences and invisible coloreds - behatted fathers with invisible jobs bleating out "hello, honey, I'm home!" A nostalgia for such past as never existed, except on television... Anglo-Indian journalist Shiva Naipaul compared Americans of the squeamish classes to the race of Eloi in the H. G. Wells book and movie "Time Machine", living off credit and selling off their ports to Dubai. They "play and fashion garlands while the ravenous Morlocks plan supper below."

          First, the Squeamish-American President appointed into office by his father's judges after losing the Y2K election decided... like a seven-year-old kissing up to her teacher... that Iraq and Syria and Egypt must have Amurkan-style democracy, whether they wanted to, or not.  And the Urban Spaceman as followed doing the same thing with the Afghans and Libyans and Yemenese and, now, we have Djonald Unchained and the Costa Ricans; they, too, mutter “Ditto!”

          Wilhelm Reich, somewhat more callously, contended that the Squeamish know exactly the consequences of their stance... "As bitter as it may be, the fact remains: it is the irresponsibleness of masses of people that lies at the basis of fascism of all countries, nations and races." Because NIMBYhood requires one to have a back yard, Adam Smith was... two centuries ago... prescient in his warnings that liberal elites, "fortunate and proud", would begin to wonder "at the insolence of human wretchedness, that it should dare to present itself before them, and with the loathsome aspect of its misery, presume to disturb the serenity of their happiness."

          (Having felt the pain of the lower orders, didn’t necessarily mean he or his cronies intended to relieve it.  To the contrary, governments and corporations tweaked zoning laws, demolished slums and then ran out of money to rebuild the nice places as promised, and then built more jails to contain those problem persons.)

          Didn't help that most as raised heck in the '60s, then went disco in the '70s, had to face the ravages of time... against which the sex, drugs and rock n' roll dwindled down to an occasional Viagra, Rogaine or bootleg Zelnorm and elevator music. The zero tolerance grows tolerable once a body's tolerance for excess flees, breeding mean thoughts of "...why should those damn kids get to be so happy?" and reality television programs like that where aspiring artistes competed to replace some Aussie in this band, as found the Bohemian life so enjoyaful that he hanged himself. (Like the Rev. Dennis Peacock, I blame "Satan" Claus as a poor role model, a moral miscreant socialist who eats too much and laughs too much to be let loose round vulnerable children.)

          So declare war on cellulite, dive for the cellular and call the cops! One by one, outposts of risky hedonism colonized in the '50’s, 60s and 70s have been squished under the thin, sour high heels of left, right and dead center Squeamishness like unwanted kittens and puppies, euthanized in humane societies "for their own good". AIDS happened, turning sex "cool and mean", reflected Michael V. Miller, spawning a sublimation industry of dirty words, bitter games and hollow simulations certain to get a boost, now that the Zika sex pandemic is upon us, too.

          Sea World Orlando threw up a "Key West Village" with mechanical manatees and plastic palms, Hemingway-spouting pizza servers and ceiling fans (but no homosexuals, gnats or alcohol) before Hurricane Irma took both the real and fake things down. "Pretty pathetic!" scoffed Jimmy Weekly, City Commissioner for the real Key West. Disney, speaking of Papa, released another animated version of "The Old Man and the Sea", reprogrammed with singing fishes and fishermen, too... the big fish got away at the end, so the Old Man settled for curly fries at one of those new Caribbean Pirates VI fish franchises. "It is our hope that nobody will be offended by the film," a Disney spokesperson squeaked, last July.

          Orwell warned us that... once the State finishes with our bodies... our minds, history and heritage become next course on the Squeamish menu. We're not quite far down the well-intentioned Squeamish road to thoughtcrime as the Euros or Iraniacs, among others, but we do have all these new "civility" laws as allow politicians to gavel down and close off public comment that they don't appreciate and tear down statues of past Americans (especially ordinary soldiers) as might have said or done something politically incorrect. At least that vote to boot Babe Ruth from the Hall of Fame for obesity and drinking failed last winter, as did another attempt to kick FDR off the dime for alleged adultery… but the postals did airbrush Freud's pipe off'n his stamp as, also, cigarettes from the lips of Jackson Pollock's 57-centers, our sliced and diced SCOTUS upheld the Minnesota schoolmarms as banned Christmas and Valentine’s Day as “insensitive to the multicultural community” and the good city patriarchs of Fort Worth bobbitted this cattle sculpture as turned out long in more than the horns…

          "We had requested a steer," Roland Mackie of Sundance Square Management joined the apology brigade. "We got a bull."

          And then there are the Oscars – but we’ve had enough about smooth little golden men this year…

          Them Squeamish remind me of this joke that Russians told during the Commonism (as got hijacked by Bill Clinton’s li’l death dwarf, Bobby Reich): Three farmers eked out miserable livings on a collective farm 'til, one day, an angel appeared... part of the heresy since, of course, there weren't no such things as angels in the U.S.S.R. Anyway, this angel granted the usual three wishes... though, being Russian, that broke down to only one apiece. The first wished for a chicken, for eggs, the second... a little cheekier... for a cow, so he could have his own milk. The angel gave them what they asked for, then approached the third. "I'm a true believer," he said, "in the necessary equality of all men, even under a God as doesn't exist. Kill my neighbors' livestock!"

          The Commonists are gone, now, went the ever- persnickety National Review, gone to selling us petroleum, electronics and credit… committing Internet crimes, invading Crimea and Moldavia and endorsing Donald Trump but... if those difficulties with al-Qaida, ISIS, the Costa-Rican solidarian bombers and Army of Horus, last year, (not to mention the ongoing Syrian and Mexican diasporas) haven't convinced the Squeamish of the existence of real evilment splintering through American skylights... we in the CNC, at least, are keepin' one uninsured eye out for such real Morlocks as lurk behind the alcohol and caffeine-free, organic lite-microbrewery.