Let's Kick Some Class.

It’s not always possible to ignore the campaign for the Republican Presidential nomination. Sometimes I have to listen and, lately, I’ve been hearing a lot about “class war.” More surprisingly, the candidates are against it. I love the idea of class war. It’s not a hot war with shooting and killing. It’s a financial war and the worst that can happen is that people lose interest.

Let’s begin by choosing sides: Upper Class or Lower Class? There is no middle class, there can’t be. How can you have three sides in a war? It has to be Us against Them. Anything else is confusing. So, Upper or Lower?

Right there is our first problem. No one wants to be in the Lower Class. Maybe it’s the name? Working Class? No, the Working Class hates the Lower Class because it’s only a mortgage away from joining it permanently. Perhaps you’ve noticed. Maybe Upper is the problem? Ruling Class just makes things worse. Let’s try removing Class. Rich is good because it’s descriptive and has no connotation - unless you’re a Protestant who believes in “The Elect,” a Republican, or a stockbroker. (If you’re a Protestant Republican stockbroker, why are you reading this? You should be apologizing for talking me out of buying Apple stock ten years ago.) The problem is not with Rich, but the opposite. Who want to be Poor? Sounds like the second best game show in Kazakhstan. Owners and Renters? No, those are real classes in New York City. For arguments sake, let’s settle on The Solvent Minority and The Sucker Majority. Solvents and Suckers, for short.

Okay, all the Solvents on one side and Suckers on the other. C’mon, someone has to be a Sucker. Our economy needs them. You can’t have a free market without Suckers. Anyone still waiting for economics to “trickle down?” Sucker. Anyone who thought, even for a second, that our “mission” in Iraq was “accomplished?” Big sucker. Who thinks Alan Greenspan deserves a second chance? No, forget that. You’re all rich and that just confuses things.

How about a Draft? We’ll call it the Sucker Service. It will only be temporary – unless you die. Just like the real draft. And like the real draft, the Solvents will find ways to avoid it. (Don’t worry if you’re wounded. You’ve got health insurance. Sucker!)

So much for the Sucker class. Filling the Solvent class should be easy. Anyone who likes Cole Porter can join. What if you’re a fabulously wealthy rock star who hates Cole Porter? It’s only a matter of time. Know what a hedge fund is? In. Invest in a hedge fund? Definitely in. Think there’s no risk involved with hedge funds? I’m afraid you’ll have to join the suckers. Anyone who thinks naming a hedge fund after a pirate ship isn’t a big, fat clue? Wow, there’s more suckers than I thought. Maybe there are too many. Why don’t we call off the “class war?” Temporarily, that’s all. Until there are two clear sides.

Wall Street Protest Proves Law of Occupy and Demand.

There’s a fascinating article about “Occupy Wall Street” by Meredith Hoffman in The New York Times (11/17/11). It describes “working groups” drawing up a list of demands in a way that will seem intensely familiar to anyone who went to college in the late sixties and early seventies. The same earnest, high-minded attempts at group democracy foundering on the same rocks of idealogical partisanship and “It’s such a nice day.” Yet, there’s an equally large if not larger group of protesters who want nothing to do with demands. They are heavily into “process.” Whither this generation’s Weathermen?

More striking than the “working groups” (with their connotation of manual labor) is the “General Assembly,” a nightly gathering of the hundreds of protesters in Zuccotti Park. Salon moi, that evokes not the U.N. but the French Revolution. In particular, the Estates General, a gathering of concerned citizens which mutated into the horrifying Committee On Public Safety. Neither violence nor revolution, however, would seem to be a threat. Not if, as Ms. Hoffman writes, “A two-thirds majority is needed to approve each proposal, and any passionate opponent could call for the entire vote to be delayed.”

Many of the people occupying the park are more comfortable with what protester David Haack calls “. . . the movement’s ‘true democratic process’ even if it means slower progress going forward.” Meghan Sheridan of Occupy Boston wrote on the group’s Facebook page, “The process is the message.” “In Baltimore, Cullen Nowalkowsky, a protester, said by phone that the point was a “public sphere not moderated by commodities or mainstream political discourse.” Some even believe that having a point is beside the point. Notably, the Zen contingent, which, judging from photos that a friend took, organizes meditation flash mobs and brandishes candles in jars that read, “Protect me from Envy.” (Actually, if you’re protesting against the richest people in the world, protection from envy is a wise precaution.)

I’m in favor of making demands. To me, the greatest outcome of these demonstrations would be if they had a lasting, positive effect on economic injustice. That isn’t easy and it takes a long time, but it’s impossible without knowing what you want to change. Even if your goal is simply to get a job, not having one can be a sign of deeper economic issues that need to be addressed and redressed. Protester Shawn Reeden quotes Frederick Douglass, “Power concedes nothing without a demand.”

That’s not the only good outcome, however. There are slower, more incremental benefits that are also valuable. Simply by lasting, the protest keeps a skeptical attitude towards Wall Street in the public eye. If, in the long run, the only thing it does is blunt the near universal appeal of Wall Street and it keeps one smart, ambitious, college graduate from rushing blindly into finance, the protest will have succeeded.

There’s even a certain charm to the infrastructure that has sustained these protests for thirty-eight days and counting. The eating, sleeping and cleaning involved has such a warm, domestic quality that it sings, “commune.” (Hog Farm, not 1848. Wavy Gravy, not Karl Marx.) They even have their own newspaper and provide their own entertainment. How peaceful and self-sufficient is that? Throw in a woman wearing a peasant blouse while baking bread and I’m there. I’ll bring the wind chimes and macramé plant holders.

Ultimately, though, the protesters have to make a choice. It’s not either/or but, they have to decide what’s more important: change or process. If change is important, demands are necessary - and for that you need a leader. Someone who’s decisive, but won’t impose his views. Someone people listen to out of respect and not because he or she has the loudest voice. If you want self-defeating political correctness or as Mike Hine of Occupy Seattle says, “We want to include as many voices as possible,” you don’t need a protest. That’s what the Democratic Party is for. If you want a “be-in,” free-form and spontaneous, let it happen. Enjoy yourselves, but don’t have any illusions. Don’t think it’s going anywhere or achieving anything. To paraphrase Bob Dylan, you don’t have to be a weatherman to know that the wind has to blow in a certain direction.

Elaine May, But Woody?

Elaine May interviewed fellow writers Woody Allen and Ethan Coen in The Sunday’s New York Times. (11/16/11) I enjoyed the questions, but found the answers a little underwhelming. So, I’ve replaced them with my own.

Q: A miraculous being with divine powers appears to you and says, "You have a choice. You can be fabulously attractive and have an even better physique or you can reverse climate change." What do you say to her?

A: I'd definitely go for better looks. I'd never get credit for stopping global warming. Even If I claimed it, they'd ask me to prove it. Better looks, on the other hand, would have immediate and satisfying results.

Q: How would you go about achieving world peace if you had the time?

A: I'd make the world bigger, so everyone had lots of room. That way, no one could complain about their neighbors. But would I get the Nobel Peace Prize? Nope. The Nobel Peace Prize exists to give Third Worlders honor instead of dinner and to piss off Republicans.

Q: . . . It would be helpful if you told me something startling about yourself, you've never told anyone else.

A: I have stigmata. I know that's supposed to be good, but I hide it because if anyone knew, I'd have to convert.

Q: What is your understanding of "redeeming social value" and which plays had it last year?

A: Forget about redeeming society. Ain't happening. Value on Broadway? Are you kidding? At these prices, even if I took myself, I'd feel obliged to sleep with myself.

Q: What's the biggest secret you were told and asked not to repeat?

A: I'm the one they trusted to bring "The Message to Garcia." At least, I think it was me. Yeah, it was, but . . . was it Garcia? There was war on, I know that. See? That's why people don't trust me with secrets.

Q: "What if the law of gravity just wears out and lets go and I drift into space?" Does that ever make you nervous?

A: It's not the drifting that worries me. If gravity stopped, all the parts of my body that hang would suddenly slap me in the face.

Q: What question that I haven't asked would you like to answer.

A: What makes Patty Lane lose control? A hot dog. "Where Cathy adores a minuet / The Ballet Russe / And Crepes Suzette / All Patty loves is rock and roll / A hot dog makes her lose control / What a wild duet."

Night of the Living Flat Tax.

I can’t believe the Republicans are resurrecting the idea of a flat tax. No, wait. I can. They wouldn’t be conservatives if they changed with the times. (There are no liberal Republicans. The last one was John Lindsay and he left the political dialogue at the same time as the word, “Patrician.”) But the flat tax? No one believed it when the plaid-coated patroon, Steve Forbes, made it part of his Presidential campaigns in 1996 and 2000. Who would fall for it now?

Not the rich They know it’s just an excuse to lower their taxes. “Would I rather pay nine per cent of my income in taxes or thirty-five per cent? Hmmm.” Not the poor. Their taxes would go from nothing to nine per cent. That leaves the middle class, but they’d have to be convinced to vote against their economic interest. I’d tell you how the Republicans do that, but I just had lunch. One thing is sure, they couldn’t do it without the Democrats.

A flat tax? It’s not even economically feasible. Anytime you reduce tax revenue like that, you wind up replacing it later – with more taxes. If you don’t believe me, read George H.W. Bush’s lips. (The earlier Bush. The one that’s good by comparison.) What Herman Cain is thinking by proposing a new tax as well, I can’t tell you. I can, however, say one thing with confidence: “Nine nine nine” should never be uttered in an economic context unless someone is asking Angela Merkel, President of Germany, to bail out the rest of Europe. If you still harbor doubts about the flat tax consider that Rick Perry likes it, too, and is being schooled in its intricacies by none other than Steve Forbes, who, no doubt, has spent the last fifteen years pondering them.

Don’t get me wrong, I like Herman Cain and Rick Perry. I’d pay full price to see them in a buddy comedy, but I wouldn’t give you two cents for their economic insights. The problem is certain, powerful Republicans also feel that way. Not people like Warren Buffet, who think they should pay more in taxes, but people – and corporations like G.E. – who pay nothing. Why would they want to change the tax code? They’re the reason that an undead idea like the flat tax will return to its coffin before it ever sees an Iowa caucus.

On A Clear Day, You Can See Anderson Cooper.

Anderson Cooper, the respected TV journalist (a short list, getting shorter) has an afternoon talk show. Usually that would spell doom for his reputation, but he pulls it off. Not by advancing the genre, raising the level or having a gimmick. He does it by doing well what afternoon talk shows do best: balancing the lurid and sensational with the sentimental and maudlin. He does have a secret weapon, however, and it’s not his looks – they’re no secret. Imagine a white-haired Ken doll that swapped eyes with a husky and you’re getting close. Nor is it the backdrop to his set, a giant picture window with a view of Manhattan only a Vanderbilt could afford. There, I’ve given you a hint. Anderson Cooper has found a way to combine all of the usual talk show categories and a couple of new ones into a single guest: his mother, Gloria Vanderbilt.

The merest outline of her life sounds like a miniseries: object of a custody battle between her aunt (Whitney Museum) and her mother (madcap heiress) that was splashed across the tabloids of 1934. Hollywood romances with the high and the mighty. Four husbands including the conductor, Leopold Stokowski and the film director, Sidney Lumet. Then a hugely successful clothing company that virtually invented designer jeans. Not to mention the deaths and suicides.

Her appearance is no less striking. Think of Mary Tyler Moore playing Norma Desmond. Her manner is straight out of Sunset Boulevard, too: someone who can’t help being glamorous trying to be dignified. And she sees dead people. Maybe not sees exactly, but she definitely talks with them. I saw her do it. On a recent program, Cooper had both his mother and the psychic, John Edward as guests. I don’t say “reputed psychic” or that he claims to be one because Mr. Edward is very convincing. Partly it’s his high school biology teacher persona and his spiel (energy without bodies/communicating by other means) that is blessedly free of booga booga. Mostly, though, it’s his success at clairvoyance as judged by its effect on other people. He seems to possess knowledge, intimate details, of people’s lives that have no source except the one he claims – dead people talk to him.

Both Gloria Vanderbilt, a devout believer, and Anderson Cooper, an avowed skeptic, communicated with dead relatives through John Edward. It wasn’t limited to them, however. A cameraman, a sound technician and members of the audience got messages, too. Unsolicited, I might add. The afterworld must be a rowdy place with everyone clamoring to get through. As if the Today Show is this world and all the people trying to get Matt Lauer’s attention are in the next.

Who these people (former people?) are and what they may have told the people on Cooper’s show is not important. Except, perhaps, for Marilyn Monroe. Gloria Vanderbilt knew Marilyn Monroe and was not surprised to be contacted by her. John Edward, on the other hand, was flabbergasted. Talking with dead people? Another day at the office. Meeting (in a way) a world-famous movie star like Marilyn Monroe? Totally blows his mind. There’s something touchingly naive about that.

As for Marilyn herself, I hope she’s happy. Up there. Out there. Wherever.