Sometimes the Unfittest Survive

How does one explain the Republican Party on an evolutionary basis? If the God of the Deists existed, that is, if the Argument of Intelligent Design were in fact true, The Creator would have an awful lot of explaining to do.

1.

As Darwin elaborated in 1859, life evolves by natural selection, favoring the survival of the fittest. Life is thought to have begun not too long--in cosmic terms-- after Earth came into being, about 4.5 billion years ago. For several billion years, the only life forms on Earth were unicellular organisms, bacteria and viruses. (The first bacteria arose about 3.5 million years ago.) Multicellular organisms began their long trek to the fauna and flora of today during the Cambrian Period, 500 million years ago.

Viruses and bacteria, being unconscious, follow the laws of evolution as strictly as stones follow the law of gravity when they fall to Earth. Viruses and bacteria have no need of the Biblical injunction of choosing life; they have no choice but to do so. Since these simple organisms--especially viruses--replicate so rapidly, chance genetic variations occur with greater frequency. If a variation increases the organism's chances of survival, it soon becomes dominant. This is what has happened with the Delta variant of the Covid-19 virus, the cause of the current phase of the pandemic. This variant has made the critter fitter.

That the universe originated in a chance, quantum event is widely theorized today. In the pre-modern era, a chance creation of the universe seemed illogical; many scientifically unsophisticated persons today would agree.

In the classical example of the 'watchmaker' metaphor, William Paley asserted in 1802 that, just as a found watch implies a watchmaker, so do complex organisms imply a creator. Most educated religious and scientific leaders agreed with this position for generations and generations. Since 1859, however, evolutionary Darwinism is 'the only game in town,' just as for the past century quantum theory is widely accepted as the 'creator' of the universe in which every town and city are located.

2.

If the American subset of Covid-19 viruses somehow became conscious, whom do you think they would vote for? Republicans, of course. For that political variant bears a good deal of responsibility in abetting the survival of the Delta variant.

How can it be that a virus mindlessly and flawlessly follows the law of survival, when some politicians seemingly do the opposite? If a politician is decent, whether conservative or liberal, he or she dedicates a goodly proportion of effort to the public good. If the desire to serve is not a main reason for entering politics, something is seriously wrong. Every politician must make compromises, such as conflicts of conscience, which arise, say, from the necessity of fund-raising. As those compromises impinge on one's ability to serve the public good, politicians become less and less good themselves. Yes, politics entails compromising, but not compromising too much.

The governors of Texas and Florida, to mention two notorious examples, are responsible for causing the deaths and sicknesses of constituents they are supposed to serve. How can one advocate that whether to take a life-saving vaccine is a personal choice? Don't all those irrational, angry people who refuse vaccines because they don't want to be told what to do, buckle up as required by law before driving a car? Freedom indeed. What about the freedom of those, even those who have been vaccinated, not to be infected by loopy anti-vaxxers? Is requiring one to wear  a mask really on the same level as requiring one to wear a suit of armor during a heat wave? Is wearing a mask too much to ask to save the lives of both oneself and one's neighbor?

Are the governors of Florida and Texas and their ilk stupider than viruses, which are congenitally unable to act in any way that imperils their survival? I don't think so.

Richard Dawkins in his seminal book, The Selfish Gene, demonstrated that animals' genetic endowment determines that genes act selfishly, that is, they act in accord with their own survival rather than group survival. In addition, humans with strong convictions follow cultural dictates in contrast, say, to the natural commandment to be fruitful and multiply. The celibacy requirement for Catholic priests is a good example.

We have therefore two ways of explaining the Abbott/DeSantis paradox. One is that they are genetically interested in their own survival, and not in the survival of those they are supposed to serve. But it's worse than  that. Blaming genetics only goes so far; they are human beings and should know better.

Therefore, they are in a very real sense worse than viruses. In other words, they are bad examples of humanity.

I contend that they, and other Republicans, know that they are harming fellow human beings; the primary interest of the former is political survival, plain and simple. They are convinced that pleasing their base is more important than doing the right thing. They want to survive politically at all costs--and the costs are high. DeSantis, for instance, is not afraid to fine government officials for enjoining the use of masks; he knows that although this might make him unpopular among some Floridians,  it keeps his approval rating in the state higher than Biden's. Love yourself above your neighbor is their cynical, egotistical, ungodly commandment. 

Viruses are amoral, they have no sense of self. DeSantis and Abbott are immoral: they know what's right but deliberately choose, for selfish reasons, to do wrong. One kills unconsciously; the other consciously.

The astounding thing is the ignorance of such a large swath of the American people. Forgive them, Lord, (not the  Abbotts and DeSantises), for they know not what they do. To which viruses would reply, if they could: yeah, right.

We get the politicians we deserve; yes, indeed, we're in serious trouble.

The Poetry of Dorothy Parker

 In a recent book club meeting, our group discussed the work of the author, wit, critic and poet, Dorothy Parker, (1893-1967).  She might not make the A List of great American writers, but, I think, she is at the top of the B. She is mostly known for her wit, but this is a bit unfair, since she authored short stories, poetry, and criticism of quality. She also, in later life, wrote the screenplay for several films. Parker  was also an activist, which got her blacklisted during the McCarthy era. She was, thus, a Renaissance woman; her work is still read today.

Some examples of her wit: When she was told of the death of Calvin Coolidge, who slept up to 12 hours daily, she responded: "How could they tell?"  After an abortion, she complained that she had put "all her eggs in one bastard." On another occasion, she was asked to say something witty about the word, 'horticulture.' Her reply: "You can lead a whore to culture, but you can't make her think."

Some of her short stories may be dated and uneven, but we certainly enjoyed many of them. We found her criticism and review less interesting--but interesting enough.

The book we read is entitled, "The Portable Dorothy Parker" from Penguin books, which has been in print for decades.

In this article, I will briefly discuss her poetry.

She was the author of three collections of poetry, Enough Rope, (1926), Sunset Gun, (1928), and Death and Taxes (1931). Editions of her collected poetry followed, including a posthumous collection of additional poems.

Her first poetry collection was widely popular. A reviewer from The Nation, in rather purple prose, described the poems as "caked with salty humor, rough with splinters of disillusion, and tarred with a bright black authenticity." A review for The  N.Y. Times, however, dismissed her verse, rather unfairly, I think, as "flapper poetry."

Undoubtedly her most famous poem is the two-liner, "Men seldom make passes/ At girls who wear glasses." There is, however, much more to her work than these lines suggest, as I hope to now demonstrate.

Let us n ow turn our attention to a poem from her first collection, entitled "Fighting Words.'

Say my love is easy had,

   Say I'm bitten raw with pride,

Say that I am too often sad--

   Still behold me at your side.

Say I'm neither brave nor young,

   Say I woo and coddle care,

Say the devil touched my tongue--

   Still you have my heart to wear.

But say my verses do not scan,

   And I get me another man!

A typical Parker poem--She is here brutally honest with herself. We see how easily line two leads to line three--that is, how raw pride often consigns one to long periods of sadness. All her obsessions are laid out in this poem: pride, sadness, worry about aging, and failed relationships, to name the most important.

Parker had a sad childhood, which often leads to a rather sad adulthood, as it did in her case. Perhaps her emotional life was so turbulent that she required extreme regularity in her versification. Methinks she doth scan verse too much. In the above example, each line contains seven syllables save for the last two, which have eight syllables each.  The rhyme scheme, ABAB CDCD EE is regular as can be and is totally unoriginal. The iambic lines of the poem receive a welcome rhythmic variation in the last line, which makes it come across as a sort-of punch line. Many of her poems are turned into quasi jokes by a last line surprise. They give a good indication of how witty her conversation must have been. Wit and perfect timing make excellent neighbors.

Due to the regularity of the meter, many of her lesser poems are almost boring; it didn't have to be that way. A generation or so before her, Gerard Manley Hopkins developed the theory of 'sprung rhythm,' in order to free the poet from too much regularity. He kept the background meter, as in a musical score, but allowed the poet to put as many syllables within each stress as the poet's ear deemed appropriate. He stated that nursery rhymes often evinced sprung rhythm:

Baa Baa black sheep,

Have you any wool?

Yes Sir, Yes Sir,

Three bags full

The rhythm of the second line is 'sprung,' which makes the poem more interesting. If Parker would have composed this poem, it would have read, perhaps, Baa  Baa black sheep/ Have you wool?/ etc. 

Another--and more famous--example from the same collection, Resumé, follows:

Razors pain you,

Rivers are damp,

Acids stain you,

And drugs cause cramp.

Guns aren't lawful,

Nooses give,

Gas smells awful,

You might as well live.

A critic once said of her, "That bird only sings when she's unhappy." Parker was also no stranger to suicidal ideation. Her most famous story, The Big Blond, is a thinly disguised autobiographical account of one of her attempts at self-destruction.  We can see from the last line of Resumé that those attempts were more or less 'cries for help,' rather than really trying to do herself in.

Her poems are almost never as deadly serious as the more powerful ones by Plath and Hopkins are. The wit, even meter, and regular rhymes of her poetry indicate that she could never wallow in despair for too long; they perhaps helped save her.

Aside from her mordant jocular poems, none of them are happy. I will quote now, to illustrate this, a longer poem of hers, Rainy Night.

Ghosts of all my lovely sins.

   Who attend too well my pillow,

Gay the wanton rain begins. 

    Hide the lamp and tearful willow.

Turn aside your eyes and ears,

   Trail away your robes of sorrow,

You shall have my further years--

   You shall walk with me tomorrow.

I am sister to the rain,

   Fey and sudden and unholy,

Petulant at the windowpane

  Quickly lost, remembered slowly.

I have lived with shades, a shade;

   I am hung with graveyard flowers,

Let me be tonight arrayed

   In the silver of the showers.

Every fragile thing shall rust;

    When another April passes

I may be a furry dust,

   Sifting through the brittle grasses.

All sweet sins shall be forgot;

   Who shall live to tell their siring?

Hear me now,  nor let me rot

   Wistful still, and still aspiring.

Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;

    I am frail, be you forgiving,

See you not that I have need

   To be living with the living?

Sail, tonight, the Styx's breast; 

   Glide among the dim processions

Of the exquisite unblest,

   Spirits of my shared transgressions,

Roam with young Persephone,

   Plucking poppies for your slumber...

With the morrow there shall be

   One more wraith among your number.

This is a beautiful poem, ample proof that there is a lot more to Parker's poetry than wit, broken relationships, and jocular irony. The tone is serious, almost funereal, throughout. The meter, as usual in Parker's poetry, is even but there are considerably rhythmic variations, e.g. the trochee at the beginning of the poem. One cannot fail to be impressed by the solemn dignity of the poem.

The theme of the poem is a petition to the ghosts, the protagonist's Eumenides, to stop rendering her life miserably difficult. The protagonist has no intention, however, of giving up her 'lovely' sins; nor will the ghosts stop making her feel guilty. Thus the irony of the last line. There will be one more ghost to pursue her tomorrow, after she gives them one more reason to make herself feel guilty. The result will be a continuation of a very unconventional, yet very unhappy life.

Many of Parker's obsessions are found in this poem, namely, sorrow, depression, defiance and irony. They have rarely sounded so good, however. I repeat: this is a beautiful poem.

Do I have a favorite poem of hers? I do indeed. It is entitled "Philosophy."

If I should labor through daylight and dark,

  Consecrate, valorous, serious, true,

Then on the world I may blazon my mark;

  And what if I don't, and what if I do?

I laughed out loud with delight when I first read this poem. It is a wise poem. At death, all the obsessions between one's ears will inevitably disappear without a trace. Why obsess then? Why not concentrate on the ego-transcending joys of life, namely love and wisdom?

Parker has given us many gems among the rare needles in her witty haystack. She is well worth reading.

I mentioned at the beginning that some poems were never included in her collections, and were published posthumously. Here is one of them, which an editor calls, "A Posthumous Parker."

Since a miss, my life's been amiss;

I wish I weren't old and done--

What consoles a misfit? This:

You are not the only one.

All right, I admit it, I wrote that poem myself. Did I fool you? Yeah, right.