The Republican field has been winnowed. First, Vice President Mike Pence exited stage left. The Vice President needs no introduction but might be in need of a eulogy; it is difficult to imagine his electoral career after such a poor primary showing. Fortunately for Pence, he has lived a complete life despite this most recent failure. He served in the House of Representatives, the Indiana State House, and the White House in a political career spanning twenty years. Like the Indiana-raised Abraham Lincoln, Pence was unsuccessful in several of his campaigns, and like that other Republican lawyer, Pence persevered. He worked as a conservative radio show host and, in the 2000 election, was elected to the House. In 2013, he would govern his home state until, in 2016, Pence would be elected the 48th Vice President of these United States.
It is a mean compliment to compare a politician favorably to Donald Trump, but for no other man is such a comparison so useful as it is for Pence. Democrats have long bemoaned the Christian Right- the great boogeyman of secular liberalism. Pence was once the mouthpiece through which the political inclinations of America’s amorphous evangelical movement were heard. But when Republicans ditched Pence for Trump, Democrats finally saw the right stripped of its Christianity: its honor, its selflessness, and its virtue. And, like an online catfish seen in person for the first time, the au naturel view was joltingly unattractive. If Pence was the worst thing you could imagine, you lacked imagination.
From 2016 to 2020, we heard that “At least Pence isn’t the president— he’s smarter than Trump.” New York Magazine, The New Yorker, Washington Post, The Nation, and Vanity Fair, among others, ran stories to that effect. January 6th shut down those asinine whispers. We ought to miss Pence.
Tim Scott, too, has left the race. The South Carolinian came in as a giant killer, wielding a large bankroll and a sunny disposition. Eventually, though, voters found Scott to be a one-trick pony. His vision was positive, sure, but the only thing he spoke about building was his own reputation. Fortunately for Scott, he’s only 58, a mere youth in American politics.
These past few weeks have seen epochal change with the deaths of three Americans whose achievements defined the latter half of the twentieth century. We have lost Henry Kissinger, Rosalynn Carter, and Sandra Day O’Connor.
Kissinger’s resume is too long to list here, but his influence on American foreign policy was unparalleled. Because of this, he often rhetorically stands in for the United States. Those who hate this country and what it has done hate Kissinger. He was certainly a great man and, those who knew him say, a good one.
Rosalynn Carter was a first lady and is survived by her husband. Behind President Carter stood a steel magnolia. Rosalynn cared deeply about many causes and advanced them greatly: mental health, housing for the unhoused, women’s equality, and caregiver wellness among them.
Sandra Day O’Connor was the first female Supreme Court justice, a Reagan appointee, and the last elected official to be elevated to the court. She sits uncomfortably in the partisan mind, too Republican for the RBG socks-wearer to celebrate and too unreliable a vote to become a conservative hero. One must respect her retirement, eighteen years ago. O’Connor did not allow herself to be subsumed by the court, like so many of her colleagues.
Broccoli alfredo should have enough broccoli to get it in every bite. If you do not want to have broccoli in your broccoli alfredo, do not order it. Broccoli-less broccoli alfredo is a scourge on this country driven by picky eaters. If you are someone who is concerned that you might get “too much” broccoli, order the chicken tenders. I know you want to.
Catholic University of America’s blockbuster survey of American priests was updated last month in a new release titled “Polarization, Generational Dynamics, and the Ongoing Impact of the Abuse Crisis: Further Insights from the National Study of Catholic Priests.” The survey, performed by The Catholic Project, has been well covered in both religious and secular press. CUA received responses from 36% of American priests and 131 bishops. The thing most interesting in the responses is the generational divide.
Of priests ordained between 1960 and 1964 (the first quadrennial division in the survey), fewer than 20% identify as theologically conservative/orthodox. Of priests ordained since 2020, more than 80% identify as theologically conservative/orthodox. In fact, 0 priests of the youngest cohort self-reported as theologically “very progressive.”
This shift does not match perfectly with political identification. There, political liberals have all but disappeared from seminaries, but moderates have made ground alongside conservatives.
What if the art is the artist? For all the talk of when, whether, and how to separate the art from the artist, such conversations remain largely hypothetical. In practice, we do. No museum is divesting from their Picassos, and only those with an attention deficit are suggesting they do so. The beauty of an object can do a lot to mask the vices of its creator. But what if the creator is selling themselves? How might one separate art from artist, then? Such is the quandary of Boogie2988 fans. Boogie, or Steven Jay Williams, is, or was, an internet celebrity, one of the first major YouTubers, and an entertainer/artist/content creator who won a following by providing constant emotional access to his viewers. Through triumphs, lows, relationships, and video game purchases, Boogie kept the camera on, and millions watched.
Boogie has been accused of racism, assault, pedophilia, tax fraud, and half a hundred other evils of varying credibility over the past few years. I don’t seek to play judge, but I will say that he is pathetic- he excites pathos. One cannot watch a morbidly obese man struggle to get out of a bathtub or despair over his YouTube fortune spent on prostitutes without feeling something. Perhaps disgust.
Are you then sucked back, however unwilling, into a new performance? Is the descent Volume Two of the Boogie show? If you wish to understand the depravity of vloggers’ webcam-based economy, then I’d recommend The Dark, Sad Life of Boogie2988 by the young documentarian Mike Clum. It’s an imperfect film, with strange pacing, stupid gimmicks, and an inexplicable focus on Boogies’ ever-declining bank balance, but it is also beautifully shot. I guarantee that this work of art, like Boogie himself, will make you feel something.
God rest ye merry, gentlemen/Let nothing you dismay/Remember, Christ, our Savior/Was born on Christmas day/To save us all from Satan’s power/When we were gone astray/O tidings of comfort and joy/Comfort and joy/O tidings of comfort and joy/
“God rest ye merry” is a complete optative phrase expanded by the intercessory request, much as “bless you” might be expanded to “God bless you.” And, in contravention of contemporary English usage, merry does not modify gentlemen.
“Rest ye merry” expresses a wish by the speaker that the object of the sentence experiences comfort and joy (or peace and happiness, but more generally— good vibes). The phrase “Rest you merry” is used in Romeo and Juliet, while “God Rest you merry” can be found in As You Like It. The oldest known version of the carol (c. 1650) begins with “Sit you merry gentlemen,” but “Rest you merry” has been used since at least 1760. Ye is a modern and grammatically incorrect anachronism.
The song has been performed by carolers as diverse as Garth Brooks, Pentatonix, and The Barenaked Ladies (a misleading moniker if there ever was one). My favorite is Bing Crosby’s version, from his best Christmas album, White Christmas (don’t @ me, Christmas Classics fans). Moreover, “God rest ye, merry gentlemen” happens to be my favorite Christmas carol overall.
For one, I enjoy the direct reference to Christ as a redeemer for a people gone astray, an unflinching reference to Christianity not often seen in the pap and pablum of much of the Christmas music genre. The catalog of Maria Carey or Michael Bublé uses a grammar more like that of an advertiser (think “Thismas” or an hombre red Starbucks cup) than anything in A Book of Roxburghe Ballads.
I like, too, the promise of salvation from Satan’s power, but I know it might cause some listeners discomfit. In matters of discomfit and faith, I look to Lewis. When C. S. Lewis referred to Nero fiddling on the brink of hell in “Learning in Wartime” (a sermon that ought to be required reading in Conversatio), he apologized for the “crude monosyllable.” I suppose I ought to apologize for bringing7 such a crude duosyllable into the discussion of a Christmas song, but, like Lewis told the Oxford students in 1939, if one cannot overcome spiritual prudery to discuss matters dominical, then one’s presence in a church is “tomfoolery.” If you cannot overcome your prudery at the mention of Christ’s salvific power over Satan’s corrupting power, your celebrating Christmas is “tomfoolery.”
Davison Hall charges $6.35 for a 24 oz cup of milk. That’s it. That’s the story.
