Potted Peggy and the Goth Crested Nipple
To live in the strange world that is Peggy Noonan’s you have to be able to connect the dots from Michael Jackson to 9/11 to the boob that roared and…find some meaning in it all.
Of course to make it sound like you’re not off your nut, it helps to have one of those nameless friends who is on the same unnatural wavelength and will invariably validate whatever bizarre point you’re trying to make in print no matter how farfetched it may sound. Witness:
Later, as we got into a cab, we said nothing. It was odd to go from such sound to such silence. But we were both pondering.
It wasn’t that any individual moment during the evening was so stunningly bizarre. (Mr. Brando, for instance, was only as bizarre as Brando is.) It was that taken as a whole the night yielded an unmistakable sense of decay and disorder. “I feel like we just witnessed the end of our culture,” I said.
“We are,” he said. “It’s a freak show now. The whole thing, it’s just a freak show.”
Two-and-a-half days later came 9/11 and the ending of a world. When my friend and I talked again he said, “Remember that night? You could see it coming then.”
Well, yeah, I guess seeing an overweight Marlon Brando at a Michael Jackson concert should have tipped Peggy and her ‘friend’ (let’s call him Chauncey, because you just know that Peggy must have at least three friends named Chauncey) off that there were dark clouds ahead and ill tidings and bad juju and a shitstorm of bibilical retribution as the world-as-we-know-it was about to change. I mean, how could Peggy and Chauncey not share what they had seen and warn the people? I think that was very irresponsible and selfish of them. Don’t you?
Anyway, Peggy is “disturbed” (rimshot!) that our culture is turning into a big poopy cesspool of evil “piggy paganism” with nipples adorned with “Goth-looking metal sunburst(s)” that all the world can see and we should just keep it to ourselves like our secret drinking problems and daddy obsessions. Peggy then turns to another one of her imaginary friends, this one we’ll call Mickey Kaus:
Blogger Mickey Kaus raised most quickly some big points. “The issue isn’t nudity but the implicit endorsement of acting out male fantasies of violent and invasive non-consensual sexual behavior. Never mind the message it sends to international audiences–say young, angry Muslims, to pick a random example, who may have been wondering whether America really is immoral.”
Because with all the glitz and glitter and drinking and multi-million dollar corporate excess and flag waving and astronauts sticking an American flag in a giant grey cookie while Josh Groban drones on an on, the one thing that can really set off some “young, angry Muslims” is a boob.
Because it’s all about the 9/11 don’cha know….
(Added):Bonus Peggy Noonan lines to collect and trade with your friends:
Blogger Mickey Kaus raised most quickly some big points.
Our media have for decades been robbing our children of the not-knowingness that is the hallmark of childhood.
“Skeletonism,” I said to my friend. “I think it’s a disease now. You get famous and then turn into a skeleton.”
I logged on to Drudge, and saw the big picture of Justin Timberlake, whose expression could have been described as evil if his face had more intelligence, turned toward Janet Jackson, whose famous breast was exposed to show the famous nipple decorated by the famous Goth-looking metal sunburst.
Remember. She used to be an adjunct professor of journalism at New York University, so don’t try this at home.