“When I was a little child / The preacher told me lies / And I can’t forgive him now / I won’t forgive him now” —Claire Holley, “Love Never Came“
Last week I had the great pleasure of meeting novelist and lawyer Thane Rosenbaum. He was at Emory last week lecturing about his newish book The Myth of Moral Justice: Why the Legal System Fails to Do What’s Right. (Excerpt here.)
You’d think the book is about why lawyers suck, and you’d be right enough. But at its heart, Thane’s book is about forgiveness and reconciliation, the crucial importance of (public) apologies, and the central role of story and memory in each.
Thane talks about how even folks who win lawsuits leave the courthouse (assuming they even get to go to court) feeling ambivalent. Why? When they tried to tell their story, they were told it was legally irrelevant, or ruled out of order. If they wanted an apology, it never came up. As Thane said, “Divorce trials are never about who gets the china. No one really wants the china.”
When apologies are issued, they are frequently “non-apology apologies.” The apologizer regrets frustration and inconvenience. Or mistakes were made. That’s no way to make an apology. That’s no way to achieve reconciliation. Then it occurred to me. Click to continue reading “Forgiveness, lawyers, and being bitter”
Looking into my crystal ball here, I see the future MyIrony returning to posts about globalization ethics, spirituality, god stuff, Market™ lies and how we become who we are. (Click on this post’s categories—“filed under”—to see recent samples.) Which is to say, less out-and-out politics.
Why? Not because the election is over (and we lost), but, yeah, because the election is over and we lost. I’m sure there are lots of interesting tactical and strategic reasons why we lost, but my gifts and graces seem better suited to WHY we lost. There are big picture reasons why we lost, and then there are BIG PICTURE reasons why we lost.
Which isn’t to say there will be no more pop politics. (And there will always be snark.) The deal with crystal balls is the view is foggy, and the future is always changing.
So tell me, gentle readers, what do you see in my crystal ball?
Ever wonder what a Stunned Aggie looks like? Now you know. No word yet, as one commentor speculated, as to whether he is, in fact, a “colorblind semi-retarded goat wrangler.” OU fans want to know. (Thanks, CP!)
Some Leonard Cohen lyrics seem in order today.
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long stem rose
Everybody knows
Voted this morning before work. I got to the polling place around 8:30 and was out by 8:45. My wife, who has to be at work earlier than I do, showed up an hour earlier and had to wait a full hour to vote. Seems everyone had the same idea about voting early to avoid the lines.
There were several kids in the short line, including one set of twins who looked to be in kindergarten. I can’t remember ever seeing that before. Very encouraging. Some church folks were setting up some sort of sound system and an info booth for their church just outside the fellowship hall. Very annoying. Take a day off for Jesus, would you?
I called my parents this morning to tease them about being sure to vote today. They were in the first ten people to vote in their precinct. The mayor was in line just before them. (Didn’t know the neighborhood sportscaster was mayor of OKC now.)
In spite of having Jon Stewart’s book with me at work today, and having a major event to run on Thursday, I have been fit to be tied all afternoon. I’ve been obsessively checking Wonkette, Atrios, and DailyKos for leaks of early exit poll results, for whatever those are worth. Early indications are encouraging, however, and turnout in minority precincts in swing states is reported to be higher than expected.
However it turns out tonight, there will be tears in my beer. The only question is what kind of beer, and what kind of tears.
For Mark, who doesn’t believe me: How to hypnotize a chicken. Hell, it’s a BBC link. You can’t make that shit up.
Now off to Gainesville so as to get to hypnotizing. How many you figure I can get done before the first one wakes up?
And so everyone knows, my cousin who introduced me to the wonders of poultric hypnotism is the ex-husband of one “Aunt Flannel.” (Scroll down to “Denise.”)
