My small world

I had a brief back and forth with mrdreamjeans about ties a couple of days ago.  I have one wadded up on the top shelf of my closet.  He has something like 60.  I wore them every day for four years in prep school and then periodically during a military career.  Now, no more.  I like T-shirts and old man Hawaiian shirts.  And shorts.  One funeral suit (not for my funeral.. .I go naked back into the cosmos, please, same way I got here). In fact my entire wardrobe is contained in two locations:

My closet

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I love George Will

My first (and only... the other two were not around) father-in-law was a National Review subscriber and I used to read it avidly when I visited.  Didn't agree with much but the level of discourse, like listening to Justice Scalia and RBG talk, was thrilling to me.

One of the last remaining vestiges of that level of writing is George Will.  He is firmly a conservative and rightfully incensed at what has happened in the last 3 and a half years.  And anyone who can quote T.S. Eliot without referring to the way the world ends has my immediate attention.  There is hope when men of such stature and conviction are on the side of progressive hope.

And so, today, Mr. Will wrote in his WaPo opinion piece:

A political party’s primary function is to bestow its imprimatur on candidates, thereby proclaiming: This is who we are. In 2016, the Republican Party gave its principal nomination to a vulgarian and then toiled to elect him. And to stock Congress with invertebrates whose unswerving abjectness has enabled his institutional vandalism, who have voiced no serious objections to his Niagara of lies, and whom T.S. Eliot anticipated:

We are the hollow men . . .

Our dried voices, when

We whisper together

Are quiet and meaningless

As wind in dry grass

or rats’ feet over broken glass . . .

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