The Clinton campaign has accused Donald Trump of sexism after he told an audience in Michigan that Hillary “got schlonged” in the 2008 primary. “Schlong” is Yiddish slang for “penis.” As a New Yorker, Trump has surely heard the word before, probably while being ejected from a bar mitzvah. But I’ve never heard it used as a verb. Neither has benign speculator Steven Pinker, who suggested to the Washington Post that Trump became confused by the many Yiddish terms that begin with “sch-“. I would buy that excuse, except they all mean penis. For his part, the Golden Dome insists that “schlonged” means “badly defeated.” Agreed that many schlongs come to mean that for the men who possess them or, more often, for the men who insist on talking about them.
Oberlin students protest “cultural appropriation” in dining hall food
For a while now, I’ve been thinking about the slippery slope between objecting to cultural appropriation and demanding cultural segregation. It’s probably appropriation for Eminem to release two of the three top-selling rap albums of all time, but is it appropriation for white kids to listen to Outkast? It would be appropriation for me to write a play about slavery, but surely I can still eat soul food. Anyway, there’s no point in examining these questions now, because Oberlin students have obliterated the field of inquiry with genius satire. At least I hope it’s satire. Per the New York Times:
[An article] published by The Review in November, detailed what students said were instances of cultural appropriation carried out by [food service provider] Bon Appétit. The culinary culprits included a soggy, pulled-pork-and-coleslaw sandwich that tried to pass itself off as a traditional Vietnamese banh mi sandwich; a Chinese General Tso’s chicken dish made with steamed instead of fried poultry; and some poorly prepared Japanese sushi.
First of all, General Tso’s chicken is hardly authentic Chinese culture, and making sushi poorly isn’t appropriation. Would a just world only allow ethnically Japanese people to make sushi? That sounds structurally similar to old-school racism—a system that makes race a totalizing identity and rigidly enforces separation, just without the normative component that declares one race superior to another. But again, Oberlin students are way ahead of me:
Last week, Oberlin’s black student union issued a list of demands to campus administrators, which include the creation of segregated safe spaces for black students on campus, and an annual 4 percent increase in black student enrollment.
There you go. Finally, after decades of struggle, the civil rights movement might achieve a lunch counter for blacks only. Now is a good time to remember that these are well-intentioned young people whose concerns are probably not as ridiculous as news reports make them sound. But they are also students at a private college, and “justice” in their world is not too different from their own comfort. “The food in the dining hall sucks” has become “the food in the dining hall is immoral.”
A heartening note from a fact-checker
Over at the New York Times, Angie Drobnic Holan has written an interesting guest editorial about her work as a political fact-checker. Holan works for PolitiFact, the Pulitzer-Prize winning project of the Tampa Bay Times to determine the accuracy of public statements. When you think about it, every news organization in America should do that—especially since Holan notes that fact-check stories get a lot of internet traffic after debates and other news events. Now is a good time for fact-checking. “I see accurate information becoming more available and easier for voters to find,” she writes. “By that measure, things are pretty good.”
Combat! blog is busy
The holiday travel complaining season nigh approaches, and I’m so busy I didn’t have time to put on my tie this morning. I write you from a furtive break. There is so little Combat! blog today, but even this message smuggled out of my prison of labor—this kite, if you will—is a spendthrift waste of time. Yes, I am spending and wasting time even as I serve it. If you’ve got room in your schedule to lay out that metaphor and unmix it, I invite you to. I, dear reader, am a man of business. While I do deals, how about you read Mike Royko’s infamous column on the unveiling of the Chicago Picasso in 1967? Then you can read Frank Sinatra’s letter to Royko, in which the number-one singer among people without souls calls Royko a “pimp.” Not a compliment back then. But why only savor the written word’s sweet tip, when you can swallow the whole thing and read Donald Barthelme’s list of 81 essential books? Don’t read the actual books; just peruse the list and bring them up at parties. Remember, the first person to mention a book is assumed to have read it. Take the time you would have spent reading Gimpel the Fool and watch this video. I know it’s called “dubstep beatbox” and shot at a kitchen table, but it’s important.
Forgot I lived. Forgot I died. I gotta go!
Art Wittich is in court, and I’m in the New York Times
Despite a guest editorial protesting his innocence his accusers’ politics, Art Wittich is still the subject of a campaign finance lawsuit. Commissioner of Political Practices Jonathan Motl alleges Wittich failed to report significant in-kind contributions from dark money groups during the 2010 election. “My political opponents are pleased that I have been forced to spend time and money defending myself against the thought police in a bogus lawsuit,” Wittich wrote, responding to Motl’s claim that the representative from Belgrade took “the works”—a package of staffing, lease management, direct mailing, and campaign strategy—from the anti-union group Right to Work. This story began when federal agents found a box of documents in a Colorado meth house linking various Montana Republicans to the fined-and-now-defunct Western Traditions Partnership, and it’s gotten weirder ever since. It’s going to be awesome when Rep. Wittich is exonerated of any wrongdoing and we find out he really is the victim of a conspiracy. You can read all about it in this week’s column for the Missoula Independent.
In other news, I’m in the New York Times Magazine today (on the web, and in print this weekend) with a Letter of Recommendation: Joke Dollar. Those of you who know me probably know about this genius custom already. Now it belongs to the world, and you can look forward to people handing you dollars every time you observe that a mermaid’s pussy smells like land. That’s the joke Sarah Aswell made in the first paragraph, which the Times understandably did not find suitable for its audience. It suited hell out of me, though, ten years ago when she made it and today. Thanks to all you jokers for giving me something to write about in my doddering middle age. We’ll be back tomorrow with Friday links.





