The end of the road for all you can eat home cookin’?



Hillbilly Hideway. See below for more.

It’s true everywhere, but here in the American South, our cuisine is (or was) an essential part of our culture and identity. Passing that culture and identity from generation to generation is very important work. But — at least here in the American South — that work is breaking down.

For decades, all-you-can-eat places serving traditional Southern cuisine, served family style, have been a meaningful (if smallish) niche in the eating-out ecology. I remember, as a child, on road trips into the Appalachian Highlands, stopping for supper at the Dan’l Boone Inn at Boone. It’s still there! And it’s still doing it, at $19.95 per person. River Forest Manor, at Belhaven on the North Carolina coast, used to serve family-style meals, but they’ve now gone to a different model that emphasizes the big house, for weddings and such, rather than the food. I could name other places, long gone. Back in the 1960s, there even were places that served all-you-can-eat seafood, including shrimp and oysters, on Fridays.

Here in the middle of nowhere, in Stokes County, North Carolina, we still have Hillbilly Hideaway. It seems they haven’t updated the prices on their web site, but lunch and dinner are now $20 per person.

A few times a year, I have Sunday breakfast with my Republican friends (no kidding!) Jess and Kitty. Here in the middle of nowhere, there aren’t many places to go, so sometimes we go to the Hillbilly Hideaway, which, even though it’s in the same county, is nevertheless 17 miles away. Hillbilly Hideway doesn’t do Sunday breakfast anymore, but they start lunch at 11 o’clock on Sundays, before the church crowd. However, there doesn’t seem to be a church crowd on Sundays at Hillbilly Hideway anymore. Jess, Kitty, and I lingered until almost 1 p.m. last Sunday, but only a few tables were occupied, and the place was quiet. Jess, Kitty and I figure that the high cost of all-you-can-eat these days — $20 — is just too high for a poor county like this. Plus I’m starting to wonder if younger people even care about traditional cooking anymore.

For people my age, traditional Southern home cooking is what we grew up on. The standard for any particular individual might have been a mother, a grandmother, or a favorite aunt. But we all idealized it. It’s what people here still do on holidays, insofar as they remember how.

But the younger generations, I now realize, know far, far less about home cooking. They may not even like it, because they’ve grown up on fast food, frozen food, and home cooking that can be put together in 30 minutes or less. Too many vegetables! It’s related, I think, to why even many country people with lots of land don’t bother with gardens anymore. They don’t like that stuff.

I’m sure there are plenty of people who can get their money’s worth at a $20 all-you-can-eat meal. Jess, Kitty, and I are not among them. I wish Hillbilly Hideaway all the best. I hope they can adapt to changing times.


Fried chicken, ham, hoe cake, and cornbread.


Hillbilly Hideaway vegetables


Potatoes


Pinto beans


Stewed apples


The dessert cart, extra cost


Update: Ten years ago, Huntington, West Virginia, was identified as the most obese city in the nation. Today, Politico reports on how citizen activists improved on that. For fun, nine years ago, Jamie Oliver went to Huntington and found that most children cannot identify basic vegetables.


A parable of justice



In the Shadow of Justice: Postwar Liberalism and the Remaking of Political Philosophy. Katrina Forrester, Princeton University Press, 2019. 402 pages. ★★★★


A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, liberal ideas ruled. There had been a terrible Depression, followed by a terrible world war. Seventy-five million people died. Great cities and vast armies were completely destroyed. When the war ended, many lessons had been learned. The world was still a scary place, though. Fascist forces had been soundly beaten in the war, but they plotted a comeback. There were still many people living who had once been slaves and for whom equality and justice remained only a dream. But as the world began to rebuild itself from the war and as many began to prosper, a new hope took root and spread. A consensus grew that, with the right ideas, the right institutions, and the right politics, the world could become a much better place, with liberty and justice for all.

These ideas were closely connected with three great universities, which were called Oxford, Harvard, and Princeton. One man in particular, a man who had survived the war, returned to his studies after the war at the place called Princeton. His name was John Rawls, and he was beginning his life’s work of codifying these new ideas into a new philosophy and a new politics. He modestly called this new philosophy and politics A Theory of Justice, or justice as fairness.

In that galaxy at that time, great thinkers and great scholars were greatly admired rather than ridiculed. Another great thinker, somewhat older than John Rawls, also was at the place called Princeton. His name was Albert Einstein.

Albert Einstein’s theory, called relativity, had revolutionized physics, rendering largely obsolete the science that had preceded it, called Newtonian. John Rawls was now codifying a similar revolution in moral and political philosophy, renderingly largely obsolete the philosophy that had preceded it, which was called utilitarian. The highest value of this utilitarian philosophy was deemed to be the greatest good for the greatest number. But that philosophy had led to much suffering, because it found it acceptable that many might suffer, if more are better off. That cannot be, said John Rawls. Not even one person is to be treated unfairly to benefit anyone else, he said. No one, he said, is to have more than anyone else unless such inequality benefits even the least fortunate. All are owed what they need for self-respect. All are owed what they need for a fair chance at the life they want.

Few could understand Einstein’s theory. That theory was, as physics tends to be, very complicated. But, of those who did understand it, many said that Albert Einstein could not be right. Time after time, they tried to prove his theory wrong. But no one succeeded. Instead of disproving Einstein’s theory, others built on it. In that galaxy, Einstein’s theory stands to this very day. After more than twenty years of work, John Rawls published his complete theory. That theory was, as philosophy tends to be, very complicated. Few could understand it. Of those who did, many said that John Rawls could not be right. Time after time, they tried to prove his theory wrong. But no one succeeded. Instead of disproving Rawls’ theory, others built on it. In that galaxy, John Rawls’ theory stands to this very day.

Seventeen years after Rawls’ death, a brilliant scholar named Katrina Forrester, from the place called Harvard, wrote a book examining in great detail how John Rawls developed his theory of justice and how, for fifty years, others critiqued and extended that theory. Katrina Forrester imagines a time when John Rawls’ theory might be replaced. But that has not yet happened.

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As Rawls’ theory grew in scope and beauty, the world once again turned ugly. A new war broke out, this one in the jungles of a poor continent. Many from the rich countries refused to fight, and some were shot for their resistance. Laws had been changed to give full equality to the descendants of slaves. But many people hated the idea of equality. So great was the resistance to equality that fascists, recently so decisively defeated and at such great cost, began to claw their way back to power. At first, they moderated their goals and disguised their intentions. But steadily they began to take back power for the enemies of equality who were amassing great riches. The enemies of equality did everything that was politically possible to avoid the expenses of helping the least fortunate. A world of inequality was exactly what they wanted. The theories they wanted were the theories that justified that inequality. The first great leaders of these enemies of equality were called Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan.

Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan had their own theories and principles, among them privatization, supply side economics, and deregulation. These theories were closely aligned with other theories, such as libertarianism, which held cruel theories of fairness very different from Rawls’. Even before the world war that had preceded Rawls, fascists had refined the art of propaganda, so that the powerful could disinform the people and direct the people’s resentment toward scapegoats, blinding the people such that the people looked up to and lionized the very people who were exploiting them. Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan further refined this art of propaganda. In despair at the world’s reversal, many good people looked for refuge in simple theories that withdrew from engagement with the larger world, such as identity theories or communitarian theories. So overwhelming was the structure started by Margaret Thatcher and Ronald Reagan that many were persuaded. Some even tried to accommodate the Thatcher-Reagan theories in Rawls’ theory of justice. Even the political opponents of Thatcher and Reagan capitulated, calling it the Third Way. Though they had compromised many of their principles, these people still considered themselves to be liberal egalitarians.

By the time the liberal egalitarians awoke to their misjudgment, great damage had been done. Even by the time John Rawls died (the year was 2002, in that part of that galaxy), the condition of the world looked increasingly hopeless, though there was worse to come. A new leader arose. His name was Donald Trump. Not since the years before the world war had people like him held so much power or deceived so many. The gains that had been made for fairness and equality were reversed.

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The story from that galaxy is an old one. Why do people do so poorly when they know how to do much better? Perhaps no theory exists adequate to explain it. Part of the problem, surely, is that physics and philosophy are hard. Most people must get by with easier understandings. Even books such as Katrina Forrester’s, magisterial in their command of political history and the history of ideas, do little to make those ideas more accessible or to counteract the propagandas of the wicked. The places called Oxford, Harvard, and Princeton might as well be in a different galaxy.


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A NOTE FROM DAVID: This is one of the most difficult books I’ve ever read. It took me weeks to get through it, though I have read Rawls and other books about Rawls. I am not a scholar or a philosopher. To do a straight review of this book would be beyond me. But part of why I found this book fascinating and rewarding is that the years it covers — roughly 1946 to the present — are the years in which I have lived. The events and crises that shaped and reshaped Rawls’ theory of justice are the same events and crises that shaped my political awareness — the Vietnam war, the Civil Rights era, civil disobedience, the energy crisis, overpopulation, Woodstock and the hippy era, the Reagan-Thatcher era, the Third Way, gross inequality, ecological catastrophe, and now Trump and Trumpism. One of the things I learned from this book is that, during all these events and crises, I am proud to say that I have been solidly a liberal, though I did not come to know Rawls’ work until much later. This liberalism came from my own conscience, a few good mentors, and a few good friends. For a very good straight review of this book, I recommend Jedediah Purdy’s review in The New Republic: What John Rawls Missed: Are his principles for a just society enough today?

Conservatism, with lipstick and without



Roger Scruton. Wikipedia photo.

The Washington Post has an obituary this morning for Roger Scruton, whom the Post describes as a “British philosopher, author and high priest of conservatism.” Scruton was a lipstick conservative. By that I mean that his fundamental meanness was masked by good manners, nice clothes, connections to Cambridge, and even a trip to the palace to be knighted by the queen.

Lipstick conservatism was the rule during the era of Thatcher and Reagan. But in the era of Trump, the masks are gone. Trump’s “Make America Great Again” conservatives no longer feel a need to disguise themselves with lipstick. Ugly things that once had to be encoded and encrypted are now spoken openly. But regardless of how well they speak English or how they dress, they are the same thing: ugly.

I have not read Scruton’s books, and I won’t. But it doesn’t take many words to reveal what he was. According to the Wikipedia article, Scruton wrote, in praising authority, that obedience — obedience! — is “the prime virtue of political beings, the disposition that makes it possible to govern them, and without which societies crumble into ‘the dust and powder of individuality.'” His sense of virtue permitted him to write articles favorable to tobacco without disclosing that he was receiving monthly payments from a tobacco company. When busted for this, he attacked others and made no apology. The Washington Post obituary says, “Unabashedly elitist, he favored fox hunting, the fur trade, Bordeaux wines and the House of Lords, as well as an old-fashioned death sentence, hanging. Single mothers, gays, socialists and multiculturalism came in for scathing criticism.” The Pet Shop Boys once sued Scruton for libel for a gratuitous insult that was provably wrong. The Pet Shop Boys won.

It happens that, when I read Scruton’s obituary in the Post, I was about 30 pages from the end of Katrina Forrester’s book on John Rawls and the history of liberal philosophy. Though many moral and political philosophers who engaged, extended, or criticized Rawls’ thinking are discussed in this book, Scruton is not mentioned. He just doesn’t signify, even as a critic. The contrast is remarkable. While liberal philosophers were building an elegant and rigorous theory of fairness, equality, and justice, Scruton was making mud pies out of privilege and meanness and getting knighted for it.

I Googled for other obituaries for Scruton; they’re mostly hagiographic. But, as for me: Goodbye, Roger Scruton. I’m glad I never knew you.

His Dark Materials ★★★☆


Until the next truly smashing science fiction or fantasy series comes along, His Dark Materials will help a bit to tide us over. Some reviewers seem to think that it’s a Game of Thrones knockoff. It looks more like Harry Potter to me. Still, there are strong elements of originality. A big part of what makes it worth watching is purely visual — an imaginary world with lots of gothic and steampunk elements. The animal sidekicks are charming and are used to excellent dramatic effect.

My main criticism might be that it’s a touch too young adult for the total immersion of someone as old as I am. But it’s good enough, I think, to make up for that. Anglophiles will love it, and unfortunately for those who live at Oxford, the flood of tourists is only going to get worse. I thoroughly enjoyed my brief visit to Oxford back in August. I’ve watched two episodes of His Dark Materials so far and have downloaded the third.

His Dark Materials was produced by the BBC and HBO. You can stream it from HBO Now or HBO Go.

The center of the universe at 3 p.m. GMT on Dec. 24


The opening of the 2015 broadcast

It’s a saying of mine that the center of the universe is not a fixed place. It moves constantly. Young Luke Skywalker touches on this in Star Wars episode IV, when the says, “Well, if there’s a bright center of the universe, you’re on the planet that it’s farthest from.”

Many people live their entire lives in the dull, obscure shadows of being and meaning, with never a moment at the center of the universe. Lucky is the life that gets there once or twice, in a moment of bliss or discovery or good fortune. But the miracle lasts only for a moment, like lightning. Then the center of the universe moves on.

It’s highly presumptuous of me to claim to predict, in advance, where the center of the universe will be at any future moment. But I dare to predict that at 3 p.m. GMT on December 24, with what remains of Christendom in an annual moment of focus, the center of the universe will be at Cambridge, in the chapel of King’s College. At that moment, a boy soprano who learned only moments before that he is the chosen voice, will, for about the 100th time, step forward and sing “Once in royal David’s city.” After the solo, as the BBC’s camera pans across the high fan vaults of the chapel, the choir will join, then the organ and the congregation.

I would say that the BBC will be there to record the moment, but the BBC’s broadcast actually is recorded in advance. The service is repeated on Christmas Eve, though, for those who waited all night out in the cold to get a seat.

You might wonder why this matters to an old heathen like me. That’s easy: It’s the music. I wouldn’t give you two cents for the total output of every Christian theologian who ever lived. But the art and music — and a heretic or two such as Joan of Arc — are a different story. A culture can lose its religion, but the tradition may still matter.

I can hardly imagine a greater privilege for a child than to grow up as a chorister at Cambridge. It would be far better than being rich. Fortunately, it’s a myth that suicides peak at Christmastime. A song says that “it’s the best time of the year.” Maybe. But I’d argue that, for most people, it’s the most existentially arduous time of the year. And that which is existentially arduous, I suspect, tends to attract the center of the universe. I am about 4,000 miles from Cambridge and many parsecs from the center of the universe, wherever it may be. But at 15:00 GMT on Christmas Eve, I hope to pick up a signal from the center of the universe and maybe even sing with those who’re there.

Those of you in the United Kingdom already know how to get the BBC’s Christmas Eve broadcast. In the United States it’s a bit more difficult. Cable companies, satellite radio, and some radio stations will carry it, and you should be able to stream it with the right app on your smartphone.

Here’s the music. If you start practicing, you’ll be able to sing with them:

A video for the 39th anniversary of John Lennon’s death


Needed: An honorable calculus of civility and incivility



Rosa Parks is fingerprinted after she was arrested for refusing to give up her seat on a bus to a white person, 1956, Montgomery, Alabama. Wikipedia photo.

Here are some sample problems to solve with a calculus of civility and incivility. What do you think?:

1. If a friend of a friend on Facebook trolls liberals by repeating a false and racist right-wing talking point, should every liberal within hearing distance let him have it with both barrels?

2. If a liberal walks into an auto parts store in a rural red county, and a man behind the counter is in the middle of loudly repeating a racist lie about Barack Obama, should the liberal say, loud enough for the man behind the counter to hear, “Watch it! Democrat in the room!” Then should the liberal engage the man, as briefly as possible, to expose for all within earshot what a dumbass little POS bigot the man behind the counter is?

3. Should a liberal discuss politics with Republican neighbors, or at holiday dinner tables with right-wing relatives?

These kinds of questions are frequently on our minds, and often we find ourselves in situations in which we have only a moment to speak up or not to speak up, and, if we speak, to decide what to say. But rarely is the question discussed in a thoughtful — I’ll even say rigorous — way. Today the Atlantic’s web site has a much-needed article on this subject by Adam Serwer, “Civility Is Overrated: The gravest danger to American democracy isn’t an excess of vitriol — it’s the false promise of civility.”

I cannot claim that my own thinking has been rigorous, but I’ve given this some thought, and I’ve parted company with my fellow liberals (such as Joe Biden?) who would argue that we should “reach out” to these people and try to preserve or restore civility. My view is that the Republican Party under the influence of Trump has become so openly and proudly racist, so delusional, and so damned mean that to remain silent in the name of civility would be a moral failing and a political mistake. I do not propose that we bait right-wing racists or troll them. I propose only that we respond when they lash out, even at the expense of civility.

I think I will not attempt to summarize Serwar’s case here; I’d encourage everyone to read this piece. But I would like to mention one of the political angles that Serwar worries about, which is that if the Democratic Party ends up losing to Republicans in 2020, then the Democratic Party might then try to “reach out” to white rural conservatives for the sake of political power and civility at whatever cost, while turning its back on principles of justice and equality, and on constituents that rural white conservatives don’t like. If that ever happened, I would be among the first to leave the Democratic Party. I do not want to be in the same party as rural, white, racist evangelicals. They could not possibly fit into the Democratic coalition unless others were pushed out. That is part of Serwer’s point in the Atlantic article.

My views, I hope, are always subject to rethinking and revision. But here is how I would reply to the three questions above.

1. Yes. Let the Facebook troll have it with both barrels and then some, even if it makes a scene.

2. Yes. Let the man behind the counter have it with both barrels and then some, even if it makes a scene.

3. Not talking politics in mixed company is a perfectly acceptable solution. With my neighbors, what works is to concern ourselves with local matters about which party politics and the polarized state of the nation have nothing to say. We talk about our common concerns, such as how our unpaved road is holding up in winter weather, or who needs firewood. None of my Republican neighbors has ever baited me. However, right-wing baiting and trolling clearly happens at holiday dinner tables all over the country. The calculus to apply, I’m thinking, probably will vary from family to family. Responding with both barrels is an option, but I would not argue that it’s obligatory in all situations. In other words, it’s a complex calculus, and we need to work on it, recognizing that the best answer at some Christmas dinner tables may not be the best answer in our state and national politics, a zone in which we must talk politics.


Update: Today at the Guardian, a columnist wonders whether civility was the wrong call: “The life lessons I learned over breakfast with a Trump supporter.”


Hastening their own demise



The Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, now a museum. Wikipedia photo.

The Economist has an article today with the headline “Arabs are losing faith in religious parties and leaders.” The article reports not only a sharply declining trust of religion in politics in the Arab world, but also that Arab young people are losing their religious zeal. This mirrors what is happening in the United States, as young people increasingly reject religion.

There is a reason why Islam and Christianity — two peas in a pod that hate each other because they’re so much alike — are the most dangerous religions in the world and why they’re the two religions that produce almost all of the radicals. It’s that Islam and Christianity are proselytizing religions, with doctrine that claims a divine mandate to spread and rule the world.

Two days ago, the Washington Post carried yet another article on yet another lord of the Catholic church taken down because of the sexual abuse of children. Most of the comments on this article were vicious. For example:

Tax all of these hideous rape cults out of existence.

It seems to me that the catholic church has become nothing more than a criminal enterprise.

Put these men of god in jail.

And then there are the American “evangelicals.” As much as I dislike Facebook memes, I came across a good one a couple of days ago:

Republican logic: God, who didn’t get personally involved during the Holocaust, two World Wars, Chernobyl, Sandy Hook, the Bhopal disaster, Hurricane Maria, the Armenian genocide, and the destruction of Pompeii, intervened in a U.S. election so Donald Trump would become president.

The more these religions lash out at the rest of us to try to save themselves, the more they expose why decent people don’t want to be in them. Their best hope for a future, really, would be to stop proselytizing, to try to quietly live the nicer parts of their doctrine, to leave the rest of us alone, and to settle for a fair share of the world rather than demanding all of it. American evangelicals, craving earthly dominion, think that Trump will save them. The opposite is much more likely: that Trump will figure heavily in the obituary of the Protestant church in America.

If religionists didn’t have blind spots, they wouldn’t be religionists. They blame the rest of us for their diminishing numbers, unable to see themselves as others see them. At the grassroots level, religionists in these parts have a new micro-aggression, micro-method of proselytizing, and micro-method of virtue-signaling that has been spreading for a few years now: “Have a blessed day.” I have never responded impolitely. There is no good comeback, and they know it. But they are not capable of perceiving the amount of quiet disgust that their virtue-signaling is generating in those who are not in their cult. Whether with the shovels of a Catholic criminality or the deification of Trump, or by the spoonful with little words, they are digging a hole that someday will be big enough for their church.


Update: FiveThirtyEight: Millennials are Leaving Religion and Not Coming Back


Battlestar Galactica


My shortlist of the best television ever made would include Battlestar Galactica, which ran on the Syfy channel from 2003 until 2009. And guess what: It’s coming back.

In September, the Hollywood Reporter and other news outlets reported that NBCUniversal will produce a new take on Battlestar Galactica for its Peacock streaming service. The new series is to be based on the Syfy series but will explore new storylines.

The 2003-2009 Syfy series coincided with my last years in San Francisco. Those post-9/11 years were extremely stressful not only for me, but for millions of people, particularly city dwellers. Traumatized by 9/11, we saw the election of the empty and belligerent George Bush and Dick Cheney, who lost no time in dragging the country into an insane war, a financial bubble, and a deep recession. Battlestar Galactica was a weekly dose of courage for those of us who are too smart and too kind to suffer Republican governments. Though the characters were constantly under attack and never got a break, they somehow kept going. The writing was superb, and the casting and cast chemistry were perfect. Oh, how we wished for a president like Mary McDonnell’s Laura Roslin.

I have been rewatching Battlestar Galactica for the first time, and though I remember virtually every scene and remember lots of the lines, it’s still thrilling. The cast are like old friends. You can stream the series for free if you have Amazon Prime video.

Game of Thrones left us all too soon, with too little to fortify us against the ugliness of the era. Note to the movie industry: Please don’t let that happen again. We need an escape, and something to buck us up, until the tide turns.


Update: As of a day or two ago, Battlestar Galactica is no longer available free on Amazon Prime. They’re charging $35 to $40 a season!


A road trip to the real Mayberry


Here is a video from today’s road trip into the Blue Ridge Mountains. American readers will be aware of the “Mayberry” angle from the classic American television show with Andy Griffith. Those of you in Europe may not be aware of the cultural complications, which relate to the fact that Andy Griffith the actor was a liberal but that most of those who idolize Griffith, and the television show, are make-America-great-again deplorables.

But never mind all that. It was a nice road trip with some autumnal Blue Ridge Mountain scenery, a wonderful local historian who has had a book of science fiction open every time I’ve been in her store, and scenes from the kitchen of the chef who made my lunch.