I’m sorry I forgot to meet any poor people—
I’m sorry I forgot to pay attention
To the bad kind of masculinity
That doesn’t result in wealth.
Please join me as I experience self-abasement and other intriguing feelings.
Watch as conservatism’s ugliest turn yet makes me rethink my column.
Bad, bad column!
Ha. That I could chastise you as people
Chastise dogs. I once let my feelings
toward Saddam Hussein lead to recommending military attention-
resulting in an endless battle between righteous wealth
and savage masculinity
and I do not wish to repeat this idiocy. Oh, errant masculinity!
You have not heard the last from my column!
Chastised by this sudden revolt of the hurt I cast aside my trappings of wealth
(Farewell Mark Bittman recipes and “My $120K Vacation”)
To dutifully shift my attention–
Even against the strong tide of habits and feelings–
To fellow humans, who are but animals with feeling.
So many of them, full of the bad kind of masculinity,
Rage around at lost empires when their true desire is attention
From a thoughtful dad. Believe me when I say my column
Is on the case to finally notice the kind of people.
I’m literally going to have to like, go find somewhere. Indeed, wealth
Has heretofore not furnished me with a wealth
Of experiences to access the deep feelings.
of, you know, derelicts and other damaged people
Luckily, when harnessed properly, my masculinity
tends to produce a determination that transforms lives. And columns.
So stand back and watch us (me/column) pay attention!
See the magic that our attention–
At long last bestowed on those without wealth–
Will bring to this column!
Sure, lots of bad feelings
Mean that the Republicans are about to nominate a cartoon of masculinity
Instead of a man with more palatable heinousness- but I am here now, people,
Ready to give normal, regular people my attention
To fuel their hopes that masculinity can indeed result in responsible wealth
And that never again will their feelings be ignored by my column.
I always assume David Brooks has a carrer due to a poorly worded genie wish
we as a people owe him much for making us feel better about the death of print journalism
That explains David Brooks, but what kind of genie wish created Maureen Dowd, and why is she hogging the “Woman NYT Op-Ed columnist” seat that could go to someone whose columns make sense in English?
Oh thank God. I thought I was alone in this bafflement. Manuscriptgeek, you are my people.
David Brooks spoke at my college graduation.
He said nothing of importance, but at least he didn’t hugely offend anyone?
If he didn’t offend anyone, I’d say that’s a major accomplishment for him. Or, perhaps, from his perspective, failure.
These are always so elegant and perfect. Thank you.
“I’m sorry I forgot to pay attention
To the bad kind of masculinity
That doesn’t result in wealth.”
This is just soooooooooooo perfect. Highly amusing that Brooks thinks of himself as a reporter.
You know, that article about the $120K vacation wasn’t even too horrible… until you get to the last line. EEEEK!!
*screams into a pillow and then removes the pillow so even David Brooks can hear my shriek*
OH MY GOD I want to set something on fire now.
“a man with more palatable heinousness”
pretty much describes the majority of male candidates
“The Heaths recommend making deliberate mistakes. A survey of new brides found that 20 percent were not initially attracted to the man they ended up marrying. Sometimes it’s useful to make a deliberate “mistake” — agreeing to dinner with a guy who is not your normal type. Sometimes you don’t really know what you want and the filters you apply are hurting you.”
Oh, God, his cry for help with his dating life is continuing!
Oh, errant masculinity!
Indeed.
This might just be the best one yet. I was just waxing poetic about these, so I’m glad to see a new one!
These are so great. I can’t decide if I should read the column first and then the sestina, or the other way around. (I’m leaning slightly toward the latter.)
The only required text for one of my college courses was David Brooks’ book, The Social Animal(?), which is psychology “research” (aka lots of bullshit gender evo psych stuff) told in a narrative that was the life stories of a fictional man and woman. It was a 300-LEVEL PSYCHOLOGY CLASS. Probably unsurprisingly, the professor was an old sloppy white dude. Needless to say I am still angry about that, so these posts are wonderful.
Related, if anyone wants to read a book that rips apart lots of the research included in Brooks’ book, check out Delusions of Gender by Cordelia Fine.
Don’t none of you worry though, David Brooks is going to save us all. That column was written amid the fire and chaos of the Rubio campaign collapse, so he was understandably overwrought. But he has since written a sequel– “If Not Trump, What?”— and it is even better if possible: God willing, we will get a sestina from this one too.
“Donald Trump now looks set to be the Republican presidential nominee. So for those of us appalled by this prospect — what are we supposed to do?”
WHAT INDEED
David Brooks has the answer. All of us– Republicans, Democrats, independents– must join together and work to create a more favorable environment for Republican candidates with healthy masculinity. We cannot stop Trump from being the Republican nominee, but at least we can build a future where candidates like him have no appeal to Republican voters. What will that future look like? David Brooks does not know, but he is resolved to journey out into Real Poor White Male America and learn their needs.
“But– couldn’t we just vote for the other–”
NO NO, DO NOT TRY TO STOP HIM. Where David Brooks goes now, you cannot follow. See him now in your mind’s eye, walking stick in hand, jacket and boots recently purchased from Patagonia Outdoor Apparel. Down winding country lanes, across fallow fields, along the shoulder of dusty prairie roads. Is that him, lounging at the counter of the local greasy spoon, ordering a black coffee with his steak and eggs? Who is that man standing in the shadows at the bus station, gazing pensively at the old people, as if reading the stories in the weary lines of their faces?
“But why not just vote for–”
LET THERE BE NO TEARS, CHILD. He must journey on. The answers he seeks fly ever before him, like shadows of summer cloud. Hold him in your heart and memory, and he will be with you, even as he stalks the sunrise. Footsteps fade into the distance, pursuing America like an ardent lover. A golden moment, a silhouette on the horizon, and he is gone.
This… this is beautiful. [wipes tears from eyes]
Hah. I mean, I definitely think that defeating Trump won’t solve the whole problem and that if we don’t deal with the underlying problems the next Trump will be worse.
But. It’s also time for mainstream Republicans to hold their noses and vote Democratic.
(And I also don’t see how the Republicans can really solve the underlying problems. But that’s me.)
I also keep waiting for David Brooks to talk about how pandering to the Dixiecrats and cultivating anti-intellectualism and tolerating if not outright cultivating racist opposition to Obama, etc, led the Republicans to Trump.
Every word of this is perfection, but especially the bit that starts with “NO NO, DO NOT TRY TO STOP HIM”. By the time I reached “Patagonia Outdoor Apparel”, I’d sprayed my drink across my computer screen.
LET THERE BE NO TEARS, CHILD.
Every day in every way
I am striving for a more palatable heinousness.
Hah. I mean, I definitely think that defeating Trump won't solve the whole problem and that if we don't deal with the underlying problems the next Trump will be worse.
But. It's also time for mainstream Republicans to hold their noses and vote Democratic.
(And I also don't see how the Republicans can really solve the underlying problems. But that's me.)
I also keep waiting for David Brooks to talk about how pandering to the Dixiecrats and cultivating anti-intellectualism and tolerating if not outright cultivating racist opposition to Obama, etc, led the Republicans to Trump.
Every word of this is perfection, but especially the bit that starts with "NO NO, DO NOT TRY TO STOP HIM". By the time I reached "Patagonia Outdoor Apparel", I'd sprayed my drink across my computer screen.
LET THERE BE NO TEARS, CHILD.