CSotD: Covering the stench, Parts 1 and 2
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Romanian cartoonist Pavel Constantin drew this cynical view of the climate talks before the agreement was announced, and I say "cynical" because, while real trees would be at least a partial solution, that tree is, in fact, simply a car deodorizer.
Which raises two points:
1. It looks like the agreement actually does do more than cover up the problem. And specific to trees, the pledge to “achieve a balance between anthropogenic emissions by sources and removals by sinks” suggests that — whatever they are committed to doing about emissions — nations like Brazil and Indonesia will have to keep an eye on deforestation projects.
So (real) trees will in fact be part of the solution.
2. Ah, cripes, the whole world knows about those stupid pine tree car deodorizers. This past week has been a series of reflections on the piles of stupid pop culture bullshit we cheerfully share with the world.
As it happens, those stupid pine tree car deodorizers are from my corner of the world, and by-god only from my corner of the world, so it's jobs for the home folks and that's good.
And there wouldn't be so many jobs if they weren't exporting them in such huge numbers that a cartoonist can use them in a cartoon and expect readers around the globe to instantly recognize them.
As a cheesy way to cover things up.
My associations with the pine tree car hangers are indelibly connected with a trip from Colorado to South Bend in which we learned that, (1) when the dog says to pull over right now, you should listen, and (2) a quick truck-stop clean up and insertion of a pine tree only results in a blend of odors that doesn't improve things.
So I'm glad for the local jobs, but don't hire me for the commercial.
And by means of a segue to the next topic, that was also the trip where we learned that our two-year-old was not experiencing sufficient diversity in his life, which we discovered on the Notre Dame campus when he pointed excitedly at a pair of African-American students and cheerfully cried "Sesame Street!"
The humiliation of the moment somewhat blunted by the fact that they responded with fits of laughter.
The kid was two. What's this guy's excuse?
"There are those who contend that it does not benefit African-Americans to get them into the University of Texas where they do not do well, as opposed to having them go to a less-advanced school, a slower-track school where they do well," — Antonin Scalia
Scalia is correct that there are those who contend that.
They're called "assholes."
Students should look for a good fit in choosing a school, and, as someone who was wait-listed at the college of his choice, I can say that being thrown in with people who talk about books you've never read and who know how to write academically sound, properly formated and foot-noted term papers can be intimidating.
But I'm not black, so his remarks are just as unfair and ignorant as they sounded.
(Although my grandmother was a wop. Yo, Tony! You t'ink maybe it was my dumb guinea heritage peeking t'rough, dere, paisan?)
It's not about skin. I had a girlfriend who taught pre-freshman-year summer courses for disadvantaged students at a SUNY college. Some of the kids were minorities, including a lot of immigrant kids, but some were also white, American-born kids who simply had to learn how college works, because nearly all of the kids in her classes were the first in their family to go to college and many were first in their families to finish high school.
Yes, there are white kids who aren't ready for college.
And — hold on to your pork-pie hat — there are black kids who are.
My chief problem was that I had never cared about grades before, and that didn't change.
I probably should have taken a gap year and figured out what I wanted before I committed to a school, but in those days, guys who skipped college to "find themselves" often found themselves trudging through rice paddies.
More specific to the "college of my choice" issue was the lack of grit in the student body of the private school where I landed. I was the white-collar son of college grads, but most of my high-school friends were blue-collar and that defined my comfort zone.
There were plenty of blue-collar white kids at Notre Dame, but they tried to be like the preps in order to fit in, while, among the small contingent of black students, the preps tried to be like the blue-collar kids in order to fit in.
So I wound up with a lot of black friends in those first months of college.
Several of them left after a year or two, but not because it was academically too intense. One transferred to Yale, which is not a JuCo, and I only know of one whom I suspect may have flunked out.
The rest left because they didn't want to be there.
It may tickle your sense of humor for a white toddler to associate you with Sesame Street, but it's not nearly so amusing when older people don't get it, day after day for four years.
I remember one guy fuming because a parent had asked him for directions on the quad and then asked him what sport he played. He was a drama major.
Antonin Scalia is one of these clueless dipshits.
Only he's in a position where his ignorant racist assumptions can perpetuate the problem.
James Meredith was a hero, but we don't need lonely, singular heroes at this stage. We need normalcy.
And, without some intervention in the system, if you don't want to be on display, if you just want to be a student and not a Visible Symbol of Tolerance, then you might well choose a traditionally black college or a lesser, more local, more blue-collar and thus more diverse campus.
To which the Scalias will say, "See? I told you!"
No wonder this particular Bible story still resonates …
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