I.
At a public event being broadcast around the world, a man laughs at a joke about his wife, the wife signals disapproval, so the man goes into attack mode to land a hard slap on the comedian who told the joke. Then proceeds to cuss out the comedian further. Later has to apologize in public. The woman almost disappears from the scene. It turns into a story about men.
And yet there she still is, the object of umbrage now, no longer a subject, no longer a protagonist, except for the fact that we’re supposed to feel sorry for her and her alopecia.
Performative female victimhood is a thing I despise almost as much as performative toxic masculinity. They feed on each other.
I want to say: It was a joke!!!!!–one that another woman might have laughed along with and even taken as a compliment. (GI Jane is a bad-ass.) I’ve been hearing some stuff about “history” among these three people, so maybe the woman’s emotional response seems justified by context. Still, though. We’re talking about show business. This is Hollywood, people! Rough and tumble. Fragile egos left and right. And the woman involved, along with her husband and grown children, have spent much of their lives broadcasting their personal “journeys” to anyone who’ll listen, commodifying themselves for dollars and applause.
How have they survived with such thin skins? Oh, wait, right. They are allowed–entitled–to have thin skins because they are wildly successful and fantastically wealthy. I wouldn’t be surprised if all three of these individuals have minions to whom they bark orders. Minions haven’t earned the right to have thin skins.
II.
At another moment at the same big public event, a younger woman was kind and helpful to a frail older woman. And everyone feels deeply moved by the incident and proud of the younger woman. Now, of course, it was lovely to see two charismatic stars having a genuine human moment. At the same time, why does it move and surprise us so? Is it because we’ve come to expect the opposite—entitlement, whininess, even cruelty—among the rich and famous, just as we experience those things frequently in our daily lives among the not-rich and not-famous?
III.
In another part of the world, a world-historical sense of entitlement and grievance has inspired one man and his wealthy backers to invade another country, bomb its beautiful old cities, and murder its civilian populations. Here at home, another dangerous man-baby—a sociopath who has turned constant grievance into low art— riles up his mesmerized minions with further lies about the last election, and no person or institution or law seems capable of stopping him. Malignant narcissists in positions of power will be the death of us all. It is hard to take our eyes off them.
IV.
I’m slowly becoming deaf-mute about what goes on in the world. Things out there—no matter how dramatic, deadly, or potentially genuinely dangerous to me and my loved ones—have almost become white noise.
As a young person with a somewhat activist, idealist outlook, I was appalled when old people told me they no longer read newspapers or paid too much attention to current events. How irresponsible! Now I am that old person. I understand the desire to check out. It’s not only that there’s too much going on to pay attention to. There always was too much going on; but we didn’t know about most of it, and in fact, we still don’t about most of it, just a few things that get boosted obsessively by 24-hour news and the internet.
It’s exhausting but also serves no purpose whatsoever. Instead, I try to do little things here and there. Attend a benefit concert for war refugees. Donate to the lawyers still struggling to reunite families and save lives at our southern border. Raise money for Planned Parenthood, the only healthcare game in town for the many women who have no health insurance. Help out at a local food rescue outfit when the farmers’ markets open up in late spring.
Doing forestalls the almost completely useless activities of thinking, worrying, kibitzing, commenting, prognosticating, opinion-mongering, and fearing. Doing is how we grow thick skins.
V.
I don’t follow college basketball, but I hear there was a Cinderella story this year. Who doesn’t love it when underdogs or unknowns suddenly triumph over their perceived betters? If I’d been a regular fan, I too would have gotten caught up in the joy and excitement while St. Peter's made its improbable climb (at least partway) up a ladder (or wait, do I mean to use the word bracket here? up a bracket? through a bracket? no idea).
In a world saturated with bad stories featuring violent patriarchs and dangerously fragile egos, this sports tale was a nice bright spot. It’s good these things don’t happen (or at least don’t get broadcast) too often. We might get too hopeful, start to feel entitled to constant joy and pleasantry and optimism, allow our skins to grow thin. Then find ourselves truly shocked at the shittier things that happen among individuals and nations. Instead of just…shocked, shocked, I say!
###
I have exciting news to share: You can now read Play It By Ear in the new Substack app for iPhone.
With the app, you’ll have a dedicated Inbox for my Substack and any others you subscribe to. New posts will never get lost in your email filters, or stuck in spam. Longer posts will never cut-off by your email app. Comments and rich media will all work seamlessly. Overall, it’s a big upgrade to the reading experience.
The Substack app is currently available for iOS. If you don’t have an Apple device, you can join the Android waitlist here.