I WALKED A PICKET LINE THE OTHER DAY. I’m not a member of the union that was on strike, and it’s not my line of work, anyway. I don’t believe I’ve ever walked a picket line before, although I think I drink enough so that maybe I have and can’t remember. (Just kidding. Sort of.) No, I never did. I walked this one, though. It seemed like the right thing to do. So I went there and walked. I’m going to do it again. I know some of you are checking to see if you accidentally logged onto the Mother Jones Newsletter. You haven’t. I’m as big a capitalist as ever, which is to say I think it would be dandy to have a printing press in my game room shooting out sheets of uncut twenties. (Come to think of it, I don’t have a game room, although I guess I could build one with all that new dough.)
Sometimes both the Left and the Right in America get too lathered and froth at the mouth and miss the point, and they swing a cudgel when the tap of a teaspoon will do. For example, it’s my opinion that the Left is broadly mistaken about our presence in Iraq, and the nature and the threat of radical Islam; they don’t seem capable of letting go and reassessing. (At least there’s nothing important at stake. Just all of our lives and The Ultimate Conflict Of Everything.)
