Wasilla Soap Opera Update

Graffiti

by Chris Bodenner

Mercede Johnston slams Bristol's appearance on Dancing with the Stars:

Since Bristol became pregnant, and made headlines world wide, teen pregnancy in Wasilla has sky rocketed! Everywhere I look I see somebody who is expecting a new baby. If you go into a public restroom there is writing on the walls saying:

“Is it bad that I’m 15 and want a baby soooo bad?”

“I would give anything to have a baby!”

“I want to be a mommy at 14!”

And many other extremely disturbing and jaw dropping messages. I think that having Bristol on television dancing along with those other so-called celebrities is just going to reinforce the idea in the minds of many teens that having a baby can make you glamorous and famous, and you will get tons of attention. Which of course is absolutely ridiculous! Yet many of these girls are just screaming for attention and believe this is a way to get it.

What Can We Believe About Palin? Ctd

by Chris Bodenner

Kevin Drum doubts Michael Gross's defense:

Was he really sympathetic to Palin going into this? Because if he was, this is the most unbelievable volte face I've ever read. I mean, he literally describes an entire town — hell, practically an entire state — that is absolutely scared to death to talk about Palin because they're afraid of the vengeance she'll wreak on them for doing it. He describes a woman with a paranoid streak a mile wide, a temper like a hellcat, and a casual meanness toward ordinary people that defies belief. There were so many examples of people saying they were afraid to talk to him that it almost seemed like it had to be a joke.

Ben Smith continues his criticism of Gross by unearthing an error in his reporting. Even anti-Palin sources are pissed at him. I personally found the profile tough to get through. For such a lengthy piece of reporting, nothing seemed that new (then again, as a Dish editor, I see everything and anything Palin).

Why Can’t He Just Be Crazy?

by Chris Bodenner

Michelle Cottle is tired of partisans latching onto tragedies like the one at Discovery this week:

I was more surprised, I confess, by a post at the liberal blog Think Progress, detailing how Lee’s online manifesto “100901-James-Lee-vert-130p_grid-3x2-226x300 that I think liberals are necessarily above that sort of opportunistic bashing. But linking Lee’s behavior to an ugly right-wing ideology took considerably more creativity and chutzpah than the right’s gloating about Lee’s fondness for An Inconvenient Truth.

So, if we were forced to pick sides between James J. Lee: left-wing enviroradical and James Lee: militant right-wing nativist, the data points favor Option A.

But, to state the obvious, we’re not forced to pick sides. Lee wasn’t an ideologue driven by his own political extremism to do something drastic. He was, first and foremost, batshit crazy. We’re talking about someone who so lost touch with reality that he thought the best way to save the planet was to force a television network to run game shows promoting the ideals of “human sterilization and infertility.”

Cottle's closing point is well worth the click-through.

We’re All Victims Now: Above The Law Edition

by Conor Friedersdorf

Over at Above the Law, Elie Mystal responds to my two blog posts on how professional elites are hired, headlining his item, "The World Hates Lawyers: Mainstream Media Manages to Criticize Big Law AND Public Sector Lawyers in The Same Breath." This exaggerates the dislike of attorneys in a tiresome bid to claim victim status on behalf of the ATL audience. It's a side of American discourse that drives me crazy: Qualified criticism of an identifiable group is twisted by its self-appointed representatives in the blogosphere, who insist, despite ample evidence to the contrary, that it is an all out attack on all conservatives or Muslims or rappers or Christians or women or teachers or working class Americans… or in this case, all lawyers.

Mr. Mystal takes the tone of a righteous defender of attorneys, but the effect of the post is to mislead them into thinking that they've been subject to more virulent and broad criticism than is in fact the case. Most egregiously, he bizarrely asserts that I speak on behalf of the whole mainstream media, mistakes my criticism of how Big Law recruits as an attack on its associates, and implies that I attacked all public sector lawyers.

In fact, I criticized a small subset of lawyers who attended elite schools, chose to work in the public sector, and carried a chip on their shoulder about it. In the latter post, I softened even that criticism. I understand that the ATL schtick is hyperbolic snark, but it's only effective when its truths being exaggerated.

I've enjoyed all the e-mail I've received from lawyers, whether pushing back against my arguments, agreeing with them, or expressing desire for changes in the Big Law status quo. Few displayed the sort of elitist entitlement under discussion, but I can't say the same for the post at ATL, where we find passages like this one:

I don’t need to tell you guys that the days of five-star bottles and pliable models are long gone. But they existed once. And, who knows, if the American economy recovers and India magically sinks into the ocean, those days might come once again.

But even if we accept Friedersdorf’s premise about recruiting, what is wrong with that way of attracting talent? What is wrong with private companies doing whatever it takes to get top associates to join their firms? Would Friedersdorf prefer if new law school graduates were placed in steel cages and forced to fight to the death for the opportunity to work — you know, like they have to do now? Is that somehow morally preferable? If you’re talented, and more than one person wants to hire you, then people have to compete for your services. That’s what recruitment means.

As much as I sympathize with law school graduates unable to find work in a rough economy, the conceit that recruiting and hiring is now akin to a steel cage death match is overwrought in a way that betrays a stange lack of awareness. For many Americans, the job market and the application process is many times worse than what law school graduates face even in a bad legal market. That doesn't mean  unemployment as loan deadlines approach is morally preferable to lavish recruiting. Of course, that binary choice was asserted for rhetorical effect: it neither bears resemblance to what I wrote nor any conceivable reality, and it's utter nonsense to think that we're forced to choose between those options.

Unfortunately, we're not done with that rhetorical tactic:

Yes, yes, yes… and somewhere in Bangladesh a child could be saved from starvation based on what I just ate as a snack. But I don’t compare my career success to that child. You know why? ‘Cause I’m not a low-expectation-having mutherf***er. I was born into a middle-class family, in a safe suburb, to two parents, both of whom graduated from college. I could compare myself to some black guy who was born to a crackhead and is now in jail and say, “Oh gee golly, I’m doing so well,” but that would be weak. From my starting point, I’m not supposed to go to jail. I’ve had every advantage handed to me, and so the only people that it’s actually worth comparing myself to are others who had the same kind of opportunities that I had. (Yes, I’m failing in that comparison, please shut up now and let me get back to my point.)

Similarly, these government lawyers aren’t supposed to compare themselves to “their fellow Americans.” What does that even mean? A government lawyer is doing better than a subsistence farmer in Idaho? And that’s supposed to make him happy? What kind of country would we be if people were satisfied once they achieved “mediocrity”?

As it happens, this is precisely the kind of attitude that I sometimes observe in America's meritocratic ruling class, and that I find objectionable: sure, I'm luckier than the vast majority of people, but due to the family and privileged circumstances I was born into I'm superior to them, so I'm entitled to much more than merely being far better off than most people in the wealthiest country on earth. Mr. Mystal's only justification for this attitude is to pretend that government lawyers must either compare themselves to Big Firm lawschool classmates earning huge salaries, or else Idaho subsistence farmers, and since this false dichotomy is even more absurd than the last, I am unpersuaded.

To be clear, I do not think that Mr. Mystal's words reflect the prevailing sentiment among elite law grads who joined the public sector, and I thank e-mailers for helping me to see that with perfect clarity. I'm merely saying that the attitude does exist, and Mr. Mystal has done a rather good job expressing it (and confirming that it's owed partly to the disparity between private and public sector salaries).

“Winning”

by Patrick Appel

Scott Adams questions the word:

I always imagine the outcome of eight-ball to be predetermined, to about 95% certainty, based on who has practiced that specific skill the most over his lifetime. The remaining 5% is mostly luck, and playing a best of five series eliminates most of the luck too.

I've spent a ridiculous number of hours playing pool, mostly as a kid. I'm not proud of that fact. Almost any other activity would have been more useful. As a result of my wasted youth, years later I can beat 99% of the public at eight-ball. But I can't enjoy that sort of so-called victory. It doesn't feel like "winning" anything.

Adams argues persuasively that professional sports exaggerates the importance of genetics.

The Economics Of Death

by Patrick Appel

Karl Smith has some insightful thoughts on the subject:

Most people are afraid of death in a way that they are not afraid of non-existence. Thinking about the world just after your death tends to be at minimum unnerving. Thinking about the world billions of years after your death or years before you were born tends not to be so bad.

This indicates that people are concerned about the world in which they have died, not simply about the world in which they don’t exist. Indeed, most people are not troubled that they weren’t born 20 years earlier but would be saddened to know they were going to die 20 years sooner.

About My Job: The Customer Service Rep

by Conor Friedersdorf

A reader writes:

Call center reps are among the lowest paid workers in the service sector, and have one of the hardest jobs. We spend most of our days solving problems and fielding complaints, soothing angry customers and explaining incomprehensible company policies. We are tethered to desks by telephone headsets, staring at computers for 8-10 hours at a stretch, in airless and windowless cubicles. Not only must we have encyclopedic  knowledge of our services and products, we must also be able to articulate clearly and empathetically with our customers. We must never lose our temper, sound uninterested or uncaring, and be willing to listen to tirades and invective without responding in kind.

The most offensive customers are the ones who assume that CS reps are uneducated, have landed in their jobs because they have no other choice, and simply cannot provide help without an aggressive approach by the customer. The great majority of my co-workers in both of my jobs are college-educated, experienced in a lot of different life situations (including world travel, and a great variety of past jobs and professions) and are CS reps because they respect the companies they work for and believe in the product and services they sell and represent. Most of them have chosen to work as reps, often because of the flexibility (as I do, for seasonal work that allows me a lot of time off to travel). We relish our ability to solve problems and help people.

Below the fold is an actual letter I wrote to the customer service people at Verizon Wireless.

Dear Customer Care Associate,

Once upon a summer job I answered phones at Mazda Motors of America, manning the 1-800 number Mazda owners call when their vehicles break down. "Zoom zoom," I often said as I began a new call. My supervisor never told me to say that. But my general duties seemed sufficiently degrading that piling on by caricaturing my job became as enjoyable a way to pass the time as any.

Like you, I frequently talked to customers ready "to tear me a new one," as we say in the business.

"Zoom zoom!" I'd greet them, my voice cheerful.

"My Miata broke down for the third time today!" the customer might growl. Then he'd await my reply.

"Yelling at me makes some Mazda owners feel better," I'd say. "Go ahead, sir."

I called it the preemptive theory of customer service. Often it checked their tirade. Perhaps you can employ it?

I hope by now we've established the rapport I felt during my Mazda days for a few favorite customers. They appreciated my predicament so fully that it almost seemed as though they too were staring at the pale gray walls of my cubicle, listening to a co-worker across the divide clear the phlegm from his throat. And what a bond we formed! They alone knew the extent of my power—my ability to authorize hundreds of dollars in subsidized repairs, to send them leather driving gloves or deluxe floor mats, to provide free oil changes to last several years, all in an authorized bid to retain their brand loyalty.

Are you imbued with similar powers?

If so consider my plight. I'm a loyal Verizon Wireless customer. I've given your employer the best years of my mobile phone using life. Yet I'm off to Europe in a few days, two months remaining on my two year service contract. Surely we could find a way to overlook this unfortunate circumstance? After all, when I return from Europe I'll be signing up for a wireless plan again. How I'd love to re-sign with my first wireless company (one whose Customer Service managers I'll have written to compliment the young prodigy who kept my business by waving a couple months of troublesome fees).