Trump Actually Has Some Interesting Ideas... Except...

Curmie was scrolling through the “Memories” function on Facebook earlier this week and came across a post from last year, discussing (OK, bragging about) having a very accurate bracket for the NCAA men’s basketball tournament.  What’s relevant, however, is the end of that post: “Interestingly, I watched far fewer games than usual. Mercenaries don't interest me as much as students do.”

It’s certainly true that the game is fundamentally different now than it was even a few years ago.  All five starters on this year’s champion Michigan Wolverines were transfers.  Two starters for Curmie’s beloved Kansas Jayhawks were playing for their fourth different college team.  As of this writing, still early in the transfer window, only three players from the dozen Jayhawks players who logged the most minutes this season have not either lost eligibility or entered the transfer portal.  One of them is a certain lottery pick in the NBA draft, so he won’t be back.  The other two totaled a little under 400 minutes in the 2025-26 season between them; seven individual players had over 600.  [EDIT: now one of those two has also entered the portal.]  At least three of the five players in the portal are almost certainly gone.  It’s certainly time to stop pretending that there’s anything “amateur” about any of this.

The first and most obvious of the things that have changed of late is that now it’s all (as opposed to just “mostly”) about money.  Fans can complain all they want how players now care more about the name on the back of the jersey than the name on the front, but if you’re a 20-year-old kid, especially one from a poor family, who gets offered hundreds of thousands (or even millions) of dollars more to play for Spider Breath Ag & Tech than you were getting at the University of Southern North Dakota at Hoople… aren’t you going to take the money and run?  After all, you know you’re one serious ACL injury away from never making any money as a player, and chances are you weren’t in college to get an education in the first place.

The system certainly privileges teams with lots of money, generally in the form of boosters.  This was already true to some degree—there aren’t a lot of universities that can offer luxury accommodations for athletes or spend several million dollars a year for a head coach—but the brave new world is far worse.  You could hire a half dozen full professors for what some universities are paying for a single good but not even Honorable Mention All-League basketball player.  (This is where you, Gentle Reader, say “and football is even worse,” and Curmie glances skyward and nods ruefully.)

Finally, the development of players is no longer a priority.  Back in the dark ages (the 2010s), teams would recruit a player, help him get better, and reap the rewards in his junior and senior years.  That doesn’t happen anymore.  There are exceptions—Purdue’s Braden Smith became the NCAA’s all-time assist leader this season in large part by also setting the record for most games played in a Boilermaker uniform—but most of the top players will transfer elsewhere or enter the NBA draft.  Getting a player up to the level where he can really help a good team be better is now simply allowing other teams to offer a little more money, or immediate playing time, or whatever.

NIL and the portal may be a considerable short-term benefit to players, but they’re not good for the game, and they’re awful for fans.  At least in the sports leagues that admit to being professional—the NBA, NFL, etc.—players sign long-term contracts, so they’ll stay with the team for a few years; some even insist on no-trade contracts.  The NCAA allows unlimited free agency every year.  It’s insane.

Curmie, of course, is not the only one to notice all this.  Many, if not most, fans agree that the status quo is absurd.  One such person is a guy named Donald J. Trump, and he’s in a position to do something about it.  Or he thinks he, at least.  Curmie acknowledges that Trump’s Executive Order on championship weekend was a). timed to get maximum exposure and b). an opportunity to distract from any story that includes the words “Epstein,” “Iran,” or “inflation.”  Curmie further stipulates that the EO will certainly be challenged in court; even Jack Marshall, who has defended some pretty outrageous activity by Dear Leader, says this one is “flat-out unconstitutional.”

Still, to quote The Athletic’s Ralph D. Russo and Justin Williams, “multiple sources who have contributed to the document told The Athletic before the order was released that its goal was to spur legislative action,” presumably rather than going into effect per se. There is at least one bill, the so-called SCORE Act (that’s the cutesy acronym for the Student Compensation and Opportunity through Rights and Endorsements Act… somebody spent weeks coming up with that title, no doubt) which does some of the things the administration wants, but it’s not assured of passing the House and apparently stands no chance in the Senate.

The major problem, of course, is that the NCAA can’t really function without some level of antitrust exemption, but, to be frank, the NCAA can’t be trusted to operate in the best interests of anyone but, well, the NCAA: not the athletes, not the universities, not the sports, and certainly not the fans. 

OK, but let’s look at what the EO says.  The introduction includes the following argument, about which there is little dispute:

The convergence of enormous pressure to win in football and basketball and the loosening, both by litigation and by State legislation, of consistent rules or limits concerning eligibility, transfers, and pay-for-play schemes has created an out-of-control financial arms race in these sports that is driving universities into debt, threatening to siphon resources from other sports, and damaging student-athletes’ educational and graduation opportunities.  The athletics-related financial threats these crucial universities face are substantial: Already, one major athletic program closed fiscal year 2025 with $535 million in athletics-related debt, and another has $437 million in such debt, while others face enormous annual athletics-related deficits.  These financial perils will inevitably siphon funds from universities’ educational and research purposes, which could impact their capabilities and responsibilities as Federal contractors and grantees.  

It’s worth noting in this regard that only a handful of universities were actually making money from their athletics programs even prior to the surge in NIL spending.  Yes, they make pots of money from TV contracts and the like, but the costs are enormous: salaries for coaches, trainers, and other staff; facilities, including absurdly lavish living facilities for athletes; travel—not just to games, but to bring prospects to campus and to send coaches to scout high school players; training meals; the list goes on and on.  And whereas it’s true that athletics programs often generate donations, more often than not such largesse is bestowed only on athletics: the wealthy alum who might otherwise have funded much-needed renovations to the library or the chemistry lab decides to buy a fancy new scoreboard for the basketball court instead.

Revenons à nos moutons…  The highlights of the Executive Order are as follows:

    Outlawing payments to athletes above “fair market value” for “goods and services” provided by the athlete.  If Curmie is reading this correctly, it means that a fat-cat booster can’t pay a star player $5 million for doing a radio ad.  The intention is great, but this is almost impossible to enforce without putting a dollar limit on NIL, and that’s problematic both ethically and, one suspects, constitutionally.

    Age-based eligibility limits.  It’s difficult to determine the rationale here.  Preventing young girls from entering college early to help the gymnastics team?  Preventing more physically mature players in their mid-20s from playing sports where bulk matters?  (There were a half dozen college football players aged 25 or older last year; Kansas hoopster Gee Ngala was 26, and was, if Curmie remembers correctly, the second-oldest player this season.)

    “Participation in college athletics is permitted for no more than a five-year period, with limited exceptions for military service, missionary service, and other periods of absence from participation that are in the public interest.”  What’s noteworthy here is that whereas voluntary missionary service qualifies for an exemption, injury doesn’t.  This is especially significant in light of the ruling by a state court judge that Ole Miss quarterback Trinidad Chambliss should be granted an extra year of eligibility because the NCAA improperly denied his petition for a medical redshirt.  (Guess where that judge’s law degree is from… oh, and he got his law degree before septuagenarian Curmie graduated from high school.)

    “Professional athletes cannot return to college athletics.”  A couple of questions here.  First, what’s meant by “professional”?  There are a number of foreign-born basketball players who played professionally in their homelands.  Baylor’s James Nnagi not only played professionally in Europe, he was drafted by the NBA’s Detroit Pistons and played for their summer league team.  The second question is whether the key word here is “return.”  (Curmie’s mind wanders to the ancient Greek word ἀποδίδωμι, which sometimes but not always means “return.”  He won’t bore you with the relevance to theatre history, Gentle Reader.)  Nnagi didn’t return to college because he’d never been there, and he never signed a NBA contract per se.  Oh, and guess what… he’s now in the transfer portal. 

    Allowing only one transfer within that five-year window per athlete with immediate eligibility, with a second available if the athlete earns a four-year degree.  This is a reasonable restriction if it applies only to future transfers, and players who have already transferred more than once retain their eligibility.  Ex post facto, and all that…

    “A national student-athlete agent registry and reasonable protections for student-athletes from excessive  agent commissions.”  A little creepily Big Brother-ish, but perhaps sufficiently warranted so as not as to be bad as Curmie fears.

    And a bunch of logistical stuff.

On the whole, not a bad set of proposals.  A place to start, at least.  If only it were… you know… legal, and stuff.

Thoughts on Polling Data

The latest figures from RealClear Polling suggest, unsurprisingly, that President Trump is underwater on literally every issue.  Obviously, these numbers are continuously in flux, so you’ll have to trust Curmie that these were the figures when he was writing this piece.  (Statistics are accurate as of the early evening of April 4, he promises.)  Overall, he’s at -16.  On the issues: -23 on the economy; -17.1 on foreign policy; -8.7 on immigration; -31 on inflation; -4.2 on crime; -15.7 on Iran; -18.6 on Russia/Ukraine; and -5.9 on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict.

RealClear Polling draws its numbers from a host of different polls, then averages them.  Curmie is skeptical of polls in general, so these numbers may or may not mean literally anything.  Moreover, some of the poll results are now months old.  This can, of course, lead to a wide divergence in results.  There’s a difference of 59 points (!) between the Marquette (+34) and Gallup (-25) polls on Israel/Palestine, for example (that Marquette number is literally 30 points higher than any other poll on the same topic).  Also, both those surveys were taken over four months ago, so they don’t necessarily reflect anyone’s current thinking.  Among polls taken in the last two months, Trump fares best (+4) in Morning Consult on immigration and worst (-45) in Reuters/Ipsos on inflation; both those polls were taken in late March.

Another factor in all this is that it’s difficult to come to a consensus on the taxonomies themselves.  Take tariffs, for instance.  Are they foreign policy, or the economy, or more specifically inflation, since that’s the way most of us experience their effects?   What Curmie wants to concentrate on today, Gentle Reader, is not the overall numbers (Trump is a terrible President.  Duh.), but the responses to specific issues relative to each other.

It will come as no surprise that Curmie would be in the “disapprove” category both overall and on most issues.  He’d have to choose between negativity and neutrality on crime, perhaps.  Otherwise, it’s disapproval straight down the line.  More to the point here, the other issue that concerns him the least is inflation, which certainly is a cause for concern, but, except in terms of the contrast between campaign promises and reality, isn’t awful.  Yes, it will get worse unless someone considerably smarter than Trump—the average platypus, for example—finds a way out of the diversion war excursion in Iran, but we’re not there yet, at least officially. 

Curmie does understand why other people prioritize inflation as a negative, however: they see it first-hand.  We all do.  One of Curmie’s more GOP-leaning friends recently described food prices as “skyrocketing,” which is an accurate description for some but not all groceries.  By contrast, the fact that all the major stock market indices are down for the calendar year and we’re currently in a “correction” (down 10% from the previous high) doesn’t hit home unless you’re directly affected. 

Curmie’s retirement nest egg dropped almost 5% (not even counting the loss of buying power caused by inflation) just in March, but if you don’t have investments or you’re young enough that retirement funds aren’t an immediate concern, then it’s the fact that gasoline is a dollar or more a gallon more expensive than it was even a month ago, or that Netflix just raised their rates (again) that catches your attention. 

Plus, those price hikes are happening now, not a few months ago.  So we’re all attuned to those increases: they affect us all, and they’re on our minds right now.  The relationship between reduced buying power and the conflict with Iran is clear, but it’s more complex, and unless we have someone we care about who’s going to be shipped out, we’re (relatively speaking) unaffected in the short term, or at least we think we are.  So what’s happening in Iran isn’t as important to the average American now as, Curmie fears, it will be.

Those Israel/Palestine numbers are intriguing, too.  Perhaps it’s worth noting that whereas the page and the URL both reference “Palestine,” the link to the page says “Hamas,” instead.  That’s kind of a tell, don’t you think, Gentle Reader?  The survey results are going to depend a lot on how the questions are asked.  Ask Curmie whether he supports Israel against Hamas, and the answer will be unequivocally affirmative.  But if the “other side” becomes the Palestinian people, then Curmie’s response will change—maybe not 180˚, but certainly more than 90, enough to not be on Israel’s side, in other words. 

So Trump’s unconditional support for all things Israeli (or simply anti-Muslim) becomes more problematic.  Still, at least until relatively recently, that assistance was manifested primarily in financial and rhetorical terms; how many respondents will have changed their minds (in either direction) when military action started happening (not in Palestine, but you know what I mean, Gentle Reader) is difficult to determine.

Trump’s strongest area in the polls is crime, and the fact is that there’s little either positive or negative that comes to mind immediately.  Folks generally don’t have a lot of time to think about their responses to survey questions.  Given time to consider the boatload of pardons to drug lords, sex offenders, and those who actually attacked cops on January 6, Curmie has got to go with a negative rating, although still not as vehemently so as in other areas.

The topic Curmie finds most intriguing is the war between Russia and Ukraine.  Once again, the data is a little old, with only the Big Data Poll (-20) conducted in the last month, but the results have stayed pretty consistent over time: approval rates range between 34 and 41, disapprovals between 51 and 59.  What’s interesting here is that this is an “oh, yeah” topic.  That is, it’s no longer at or even near the top of many people’s lists of the most important issues.  When reminded, though, the majority of people responded with a version of “yeah, he fucked that up, too.”  Note, too, that the disapprovals are always not merely a plurality, but a majority.

Somewhat surprising but hardly shocking is another simple fact: while the American people don’t like Trump’s performance by a margin of 56.9-40.9, and the generic congressional vote favors the Democrats by 47.6-41.6, opinions on the Democratic Party are unfavorable by 20 points (55.6-35.6): worse than the GOP’s -15.4, and worse still than Trump’s favorable/unfavorable rating (not the same as his job approval, listed above) of -13.4.  Democratic smugness is explicitly contra-indicated.

Curmie dislikes the Democrats, too, although he’ll still probably vote for them for the same reason he’s voted for them more often than not in recent years: they’re not Republicans, and they’re especially Not Trump.  There comes a point when being Not Trump will no longer be sufficient.  Unfortunately, Dear Leader is so aggressively narcissistic, belligerent, and downright stupid (or treasonous; that might be an option, too), that virtually anything the likes of Newsom, Pritzker, AOC, et al. do will inevitably be seen as reactive. 

Curmie has read all the doomsday scenaria about stock market crashes, runaway inflation, international food shortages, etc., which are projected to happen before the end of the calendar year.  He’s not buying that rhetoric—not yet, at least.  But the only hope we have to avoid a collapse of epic proportions is that enough Republican Congresscritters will exercise a little concern for the nation and indeed the world instead of for their own standing with Dear Leader.  Replacing Mike Johnson with someone with both a brain and a backbone would be an excellent place to start.

That could happen.  So could the Rapture.  (Hey, it’s Easter.  Gotta be thinking about all the possibilities.)

On the Disappearance of "Issa"

Thomas Massie
Because no one should have to look at
Stephen Miller

This piece is a little different, because what Curmie had literally already written and was about to post turned out to be… redundant? outdated? Something.  Issa’s Facebook page disappeared before Curmie could get his essay up online.  Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing is unclear, but it is certainly a thing.  

So here’s what’s going to happen here: what Curmie originally wrote is indented below; the only changes are the removal of links that no longer work.  (Links to sources other than Issa’s FB page still work, and are included.)  New commentary appears with regular margins.  The photo and its cutline were about to be added, but hadn’t yet been attached; we’ll pretend they had been, though.

One of Curmie’s Facebook friends posted this link from the Issa FB page, describing Rep. Thomas Massie’s questioning of the despicable Stephen Miller.  It describes Massie’s demand to know what happened to $1.4 billion, supposedly spent on building a 230-mile stretch of border wall that (wait for it) doesn’t actually exist.  There’s a link to a video describing a huge conspiracy: everyone from companies contracted to provide the special concrete used for the wall to supervisors who signed for shipments that never happened or the confirmed the completion of construction that was never even started is implicated.  So is Miller himself, at least for incompetence if not for grift.  And when Massie pressed Miller, the response was 143 seconds of silence.  143 seconds!  A record!

Except.

There was something  little hinky (to use Curmie’s mom’s term) about that story.  For one thing, it was already three or four days old when Curmie saw it.  Curmie won’t claim to be absolutely au courant with everything happening in the world, but it did seem odd that he hadn’t seen anything about a story this big within the first day or two.  He suspected something was amiss, so he fired up the Google machine to see what other sources had said.  Trouble was, they hadn’t.  Not CNN.  Not NBC, or PBS, or NPR, or ABC.  Not the Washington Post or The Guardian, or even the North Platte Weekly Pennysaver.  No one, other than a couple of places that essentially cited the story Curmie had already seen.  Not looking good in the authenticity department.

There’s also a link in that takes you to a site at with a URL that includes the sequence “jervisfamily.com.”  Now, that’s a reliable news outlet!  Note: this blog isn’t a news source, either.  It’s an opinion/analysis site, but at least it links to news sites, and doesn’t pretend to objectivity.

Somewhere along the line, Curmie also came across a “video” of those alleged events.  Curiously, we never hear Congressman Massie or Mr. Miller, only a narrator.  (The version Curmie first encountered has a female narrator but he can’t seem to re-trace his steps to find it now; here’s a variation on the theme with a male narrator.)  More significantly, we never see Miller when he’s not talking.  Maybe Curmie is relying too much on his theatre background here, but it would seem to him that if what you’re touting is silence, maybe we ought to see that moment, huh?

But wait!  That’s not all!  (Please insert he usual apologies for the late-night infomercial reference here, Gentle Reader.)  This story has a few cousins out there.  There’s the one about an $890 million wire transfer through the Caymans; this one was shot down by Scopes two days later. One presumes they’ll do the same with a bunch of others when they have the time.  Oh, and you thought that 143 seconds of silence were significant?  Well, in other Things That Never Happened, Representative Jared Moskowitz got Miller to shut up for 167 seconds about $2.7 billion in missing disaster relief money, and Representative Jasmine Crockett achieved 271 seconds (!) of silence in questioning about 9.8 million missing people. 

It’s a freaking auction out there, Gentle Reader!  And it’s not just the silences that keep getting bigger.  Now there’s a $6.2 billion wire transfer, ferreted out by Representative Ted Lieu.

There were links to those other hallucinatory stories, of course.  Curmie chooses that adjective intentionally, as it has come to be the standard term for “Shit AI Made Up,” and the chances that at least a good deal of this crap is AI-generated approach ontological certitude.

At first glance, these bogus stories (and there are plenty others, featuring different Congresscritters and different minions of the Trump Regime) seem plausible.  Stephen Miller is probably the closest this country has seen to Evil Incarnate in a very long time.  (He’s scarier than Dear Leader, who is obviously mentally incompetent.)  That he would be involved in something illegal as well as morally indefensible isn’t much of a stretch.  Moscowitz, Crockett, and Lieu are among the most aggressive Democratic Congresscritters; Massie is as close to an independent thinker as the GOP can muster.  So we can understand why even an intelligent person like Curmie’s friend could be fooled at first.

But the key words are “at first.”  Even a cursory analysis reveals the flaws in these “stories.”  But confirmation bias is a real and powerful force.  We’re tempted to believe anything negative about Miller (or Hegseth or Vance or Patel…) because they’re corrupt assholes.  Thing is, though, we don’t need to make stuff up; the reality is bad enough.  Moreover, this kind of crap hurts “our side” considerably more than it helps.  It provides whataboutism ammunition for the MAGA world when we point out one of the manifold prevarications emanating from Trumpistan.  More importantly, it’s dishonest, and we shouldn’t be trafficking in that shit.  We just shouldn’t.

When, a dozen or so years ago, the Curmie Award went to the person deemed by Curmie’s readership to be the educator who most embarrasses the profession.  (Curmie would supply a list of nominees and readers who vote for their… erm… favorites.)  That award wasn’t created because Curmie, a professor, hates educators or education.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  He just doesn’t want to be associated with teachers or administrators who abuse students, punish them for being heroic, etc.  Similarly, he wants nothing to do with liars who happen to agree with him on some political matters.

Issa—whoever he, she, or they may be—needs to disappear.  So does Stephen Miller, but for different reasons.

Issa did, apparently, disappear.  Or was disappeared, which would be a different phenomenon.  Unlike Issa, Curmie doesn’t want to present as fact that which is even speculative, let alone demonstrably false, so he’ll just suggest that there is a reasonable likelihood that Zuck’s minions, rather than Issa, took down those posts.  If so, we’re in a more complex ethical landscape.

Obviously, there should be no censorship of opinions, even—or perhaps especially—of those that run counter to Conventional Wisdom.  Most of us think that guy Galileo may have been onto something, for example.  And we can object to the obvious double standards employed by, say, Elon Musk in forbidding certain words and not others that are more problematic; nor can we be certain that there isn’t a little selective enforcement afoot here.  Still, even the question of allowing or disallowing something that’s clearly objectively false may not be an easy call.

Even those posts can be divided into two categories, for example.  Curmie has another FB friend, actually the spouse of a friend, who posts “human interest” stories regularly.  Some of them are plausible; others are puff pieces that show some celebrity as a covert humanitarian, and are almost certainly, well, hallucinatory.  Other than increasing the reader’s susceptibility to diabetes, however, these posts are harmless.  Curmie wishes they’d disappear, but it’s clear that there was no ill will involved, just perhaps an insufficiency of skepticism.

Issa’s posts were different.  They were malicious, intended to defame individuals, and frankly it doesn’t matter whether the victim of these false allegations was a good person or an abhorrent jackass.  Curmie remembers the one time he served on a jury: it was clear the defendant was what his grandmother would call a “wrong ‘un,” but was he guilty of this particular crime?  As a host of previous posts indicate, Curmie is an avowed free speech advocate.  But libel isn’t protected by the 1st Amendment, and that’s what Issa’s posts were, even if the injured party was a public figure (and loathsome creature) like Stephen Miller.  Perhaps the “community notes” approach might be preferable, but Curmie can’t object too much to the cancellation of Issa… if, indeed, that’s what even happened.

Curmie thanks Curmiphiles Kirsten, Eric, Cheryl, and Harold for their suggestions as to how to proceed, and hopes this was a reasonable solution.

Mark Twain Is Right. Again.

Mark Twain has already been lauded by Curmie for his observation that “In the first place God made idiots. This was for practice. Then he made school boards.”  Of course, he’s not the only luminary who, despite having been dead for decades (or even millennia), has been cited for offering more incisive commentary on America in the 2020s than the vast majority of contemporary pundits have been able to generate.  Other folks in that category include Euripides, Luigi Pirandello, George Orwell, Martin Niemöller, and Gertrude Stein.  There are others, no doubt, who will be added to the list in the weeks and months ahead.

But ol’ Mark (or “Sam,” if you prefer, Gentle Reader) gets a second nod today for his observation that “there are three kinds of lies: regular lies, damned lies, and statistics.”  Curmie could have written about that line years ago in reference to, say, border security.  If administration X turns away more unauthorized migrants than administration Y does, does that mean there were more illegal crossings during the X administration or that the Y administration didn’t do as good a job of identifying wrong-doers?  Probably a little of both, one supposes.

Some statistics relating to crimes actually matter.  If there’s a dead body with bullet holes in it, there’s a really good chance a murder has been committed, whether someone is ultimately arrested, tried, and convicted or not.  But if the crime in question is, say, sneaking across the border, we generally don’t know of the existence of the offense until someone is caught. 

And this brings us to the Safeguard American Voter Eligibility (SAVE) Act.  Cutesy title notwithstanding, the bill is an abomination, but we’ll get nowhere arguing statistics.  There’s a meme out there that says the Cleveland Browns have started more quarterbacks since 1999 than non-citizens have voted in that time period.  Curmie actually fell for that one, but it’s a lie… not just an untruth, a lie.  More to the point, that claim wasn’t justified even by the statistics supposedly cited: its evidence was that there were fewer convictions than Browns quarterbacks.  That’s different than the number of illegal votes cast by a factor of…what? 2? 10? 100? 1000?  Who knows?

One side claims that prosecutions and convictions are extremely rare; the other side points to tens of thousands of names of non-citizens on voter lists.  They’re both right.  And they’re both exaggerating.  The following statements are all true, as far as Curmie can determine: 1). The majority of cases of illegal voting involve convicted felons, false impersonations, or registering in multiple constituencies, not non-citizens.  2). Some locales allow non-citizens to vote in local elections (school board, mayor, etc.).  3). Motor/voter programs may give non-citizens the impression that they can legally vote, especially if, say, they have a green card, have petitioned for asylum, etc.  4). A significant number of people who were about to have their registrations revoked were in fact citizens, and a disproportionate percentage of them were either black or Hispanic. 

Curmie made similar points 14 years ago when Texas was about to purge thousands of voters from the rolls.  It’s actually a pretty good essay.  You should read it in its entirety, Gentle Reader, but here are a couple of selections:

This all boils down to a simple illustration: if someone named Carlos Martinez, a registered Democrat, shows up to vote, too many Republicans want to say “no,” and too many Democrats want to say “yes.” The correct answer, of course, is “yes, if…”: if you’re a citizen, if you’re registered in this district and nowhere else, if you have some sort of reasonable proof that you are who you say you are….

We need to establish some system of presumption. You can’t register to vote unless you can prove citizenship; once registered, however, the government must prove you should be removed. None of this reliance on motor vehicle registrations or jury exemption lists: they’re notoriously unreliable. And the presumption rests always with the status quo. Once you’re registered, the burden of proof shifts to the government to demonstrate to a high standard of proof that you shouldn’t be….

As regards increased demand for appropriate identification, perhaps requiring a photo ID: yes, by all means, if and only if there is a full-scale, well-funded campaign to make sure that prospective voters know not only that the laws have changed, but how they’ve changed, and how to secure, without undue hassle, a legally sufficient, free, identification card.

The same argument about presumption re-appeared a few years later when Curmie was discussing a different xenophobic exercise in a different Trump administration: literally incarcerating and rescinding passports from honest-to-God born-in-the-USA citizens who happen to be… you know… of Hispanic heritage.  Curmie concluded that piece with this: “Yes, there are leftie commentators who are comparing this issue to the internment of Japanese-Americans during World War II or even the worst excesses of Nazi Germany. Is that really where we are? Of course not. But have we taken far too many steps down a road towards a very nasty, xenophobic, and unjust nation? Oh, yes.”

So there’s no guarantee, on the one hand, that even having a US passport will in fact mean anything to the Mad King of Trumpistan.  But even if that particular strategy doesn’t re-appear, there’s plenty to hate about the SAVE Act.  No, we shouldn’t yammer on about how few violations there actually are (we can’t prove those assertions beyond the general observation that there aren’t many), but we sure as hell need to keep pounding the fact that this bill is all about voter suppression. 

Curmie remembers citing a quotation generally attributed to Benjamin Franklin in a blog post from four years ago: “That it is better 100 guilty Persons should escape than that one innocent Person should suffer, is a Maxim that has been long and generally approved.”  Unfortunately, however, Curmie also noted that a 2016 study by the Cato Institute found that a “terrifying 52% of Donald Trump’s ‘early core supporters’ responded to the question of which is worse, ‘having 20,000 people in prison who are actually innocent; or, having 20,000 people not in prison who are actually guilty’ by selecting the latter.”  There’s something fundamentally psychotic about that mindset, but… Trump supporters.  (Curmie antiphrastically refrains from suggesting to them that anyone whose name appears in the Epstein files should therefore be imprisoned immediately.)

The idea that it is somehow worth disenfranchising legitimate voters if by doing so we catch a few bad guys is, of course, the best case argument for supporting the SAVE Act.  The other rationales are even worse: that people who have changed their names for whatever reason—because they are trans or women who took their husband’s surname when they got married, for instance—ought to have to jump through more hoops than the rest of us just to be able to vote.  Oh, sure, a passport would work (assuming it hadn’t been arbitrarily revoked for spurious reasons) but those things cost a fair amount of money and take weeks or even months to get (especially since the Trump administration has initiated staff cuts in the agency charged with processing applications).  

Place the presumption with the status quo (if you’re currently registered to vote, you stay that way until and unless the government can prove that you should be disenfranchised) and make the process for new applicants fast, simple, and free, and we can talk.  Otherwise, it’s a poll tax intended to suppress the votes of women and poor people: those who would be more likely to vote against Republicans, in other words.

Of course, liberals are more likely to have passports than conservatives are, and liberal women are less likely to change their names when they get married, so it’s possible that this little stratagem would blow up in the smug faces of the Trumpistanian minions.  They’d certainly deserve it.  A better alternative, however, would be to have a couple of Republican Congresscritters care more about their country than about Dear Leader’s latest power grab.  As of this writing, there may just be a large enough handful of them to prevent this absurdity from becoming law.  We can but hope.  (Oh, and write, and call, and…)

Three Stories about College Basketball. Sort of.

 

It’s a little later in the season than Curmie normally writes about college basketball: we’re already into the second weekend of the NCAA tournament, after all.  Nor is this piece focused primarily on the whimsicality of the selection committee, although that sort of comes into play.  What we have instead is the three-topic essay about things at least tangential to basketball.

First up: the Big 12 tournament, held at the T-Mobile Center in Kansas City.  There were a lot of complaints last year about how ugly the court was; an article in the Topeka Capital-Journal describes “a court design that could be generously described as unusual.”  Those folks were being kind.  The court was the perfect storm of ugly, boring, and self-indulgent: little “XII”s all lined up in a symmetrical pattern on a grey surface.  Curmie likes you too much to show a photo here, but if you’re curious, Gentle Reader, click here. 

That article also quotes Big 12 commissioner Brett Yormark as saying, “we wanted to make a profound statement.”  Well, they did that.  Unfortunately, that statement was that the league was being run by fucking idiots… or, perhaps by blind folks.  Yormark also said that all the players loved the floor.  He obviously didn’t talk to the players quoted in various articles… or he was lying: certainly a possibility, as admitting a mistake is apparently outside the realm of possibility.

A few weeks ago, when Curmie heard the conference was going to go in a different direction, he rejoiced.  He shouldn’t have.  What the league did was to spend an estimated $185,000 to rent (rent!) a spiffy LED floor that could show all kinds of cool graphics, team logos, updated stats and similar grooviness.  Of course, a lot of that was only going to be really legible from one side of the court, but we can imagine that stuff like team logos could swirl around the space.  Little of that stuff would be visible to TV viewers, but there were snippets.  But when the game was actually going on… the same fugly design as last year. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the biggest problem.  The damned floor was slippery.  Well, that’s what a lot of players said.  Others, presumably, weren’t bothered.  Curmie heard about it on a Kansas radio broadcast before the (men’s) regular season even ended.  That’s because KU women’s coach Brandon Schneider had warned men’s coach Bill Self about it after the KU women’s team played on it in their conference tournament.  At the time, the men’s team might get a “double bye,” or they might not.  It was even suggested that getting a lower seed might almost be preferable, as you’d have a game against a lesser team to familiarize yourselves with the court before playing a team that might legitimately beat you. 

True, there was a track record for the LED court, but it was mostly for exhibition games and the like: in other words, where the show was more important than the outcome.  Even the floor’s defenders admitted that the floor takes getting used to.  But K-State forward Taj Manning went straight to the point, noting not only that one of his teammates got a migraine from the lights, but that it was “slippery” and “a bad floor; they shouldn’t bring it back.”  Texas Tech coach Grant McCasland added that “I think with size around the basket it's not [a big issue] but the quickness of guard play, and stop-and-start action -- it just has a different response than what we're used to.”  In other words, it changes the dynamics of the game: giving the advantage to teams with size and power over those with speed and agility.  Texas Tech, who was already playing without their best big man, lost their star guard (and projected 1st-round draft pick) Christian Anderson when he slipped and suffered a groin injury during the Iowa State game.  Coincidence?  Perhaps.

The complaints finally grew loud enough that the league decided to change back to last year’s ugly but predictable floor for the semi-finals and final.  Be it noted: between the men’s and women’s tournaments, there were 30 games played.  27 of them were on the LED floor, despite the fact that concerns were raised in the first women’s games nine days earlier.  Of course, two things remain pretty constant in the world of major sports organizations (NCAA, IOC, NFL, FIFA…).  1). There’s one thing pretty certain about proclamations that it’s all about player safety: it’s never about player safety.  Witness, for example the 2023 Super Bowl or the 2015 Women’s World Cup in soccer.  2). And, as the latter example illustrates, player safety complaints matter more when they come from men rather than women.

Look, Gentle Reader, Curmie doesn’t know whether that court is literally unsafe or whether it just takes a little getting used to.  But it’s certainly different, and therefore should not have even been considered for a post-season conference tournament.  If one of those early-season invitationals like the already stupid “innovative” Geico Players Era “Festival,” go for it.  Everybody knows going in what they’re going to get, and the tournament is clearly more about flash and trash than basketball, anyway, so why not?  But not in a conference tournament with NCAA bids and seedings on the line.

Moving on.  There’s speculation that the appearance of the Queens University Royals in this year’s NCAA tournament might be their last.  The small Presbyterian-affiliated school with an undergraduate population of only a little over 1200 won the Atlantic Sun Conference tournament this year, defeating regular season champion Central Arkansas in overtime in the championship game.  The Royals moved up from Division II in 2022; this was their first year of eligibility to compete in the NCAAs.  (Don’t ask why the wait; Curmie has no idea.) 

So why the problem?  Well, Queens announced its merger with Elon University in December; the details will be worked out by the end of the summer.  Does that mean the two schools will have only one basketball team between them?  It’s possible.  Indeed, someone named Rob Reinhart proclaimed that Queens won’t have a team after this year.  Reinhart, or whoever he is, has been named a troll, though, so there’s that.  Still, the two campuses are only a couple miles apart, so it wouldn’t be difficult to merge the teams after staffing and other logistics are worked out.

There doesn’t seem to be a definitive answer at this point, but the probability is that, at least in the short term, the two schools will have different teams, playing in different conferences (Elon is in the Coastal Athletic Conference).  It will all depend on the details of the merger agreement, but if there can be teams called the University of North Carolina at Wilmington or Texas A&M Corpus Christi, then it doesn’t seem impossible that two affiliated schools could operate their athletics programs independently.  Or maybe it is.  We shall see.

Finally, there’s this year’s manifestation of Bruce Pearl being Bruce Pearl.  The most recent story was about his rant against the University of North Carolina’s firing of head coach and alumnus Hubert Davis, bemoaning the school’s lack of loyalty.  Before that, though, was his claim that the Miami (of Ohio) RedHawks shouldn’t be in the NCAA field despite their undefeated regular season after losing in the first round of their conference tournament.  Here’s The Athletic’s Will Leitch’s commentary on Pearl: 

This was a man literally banned by the sport who is now, and I suspect moving forward, going to be its public face, right there talking to the camera during the three weeks college basketball has the sports world’s undivided attention.  I can think of no better metaphor for the state of college basketball (and, really, the world).

Then he moves on the Pearl’s argument: 

Not having the RedHawks in the tournament — a tournament with 68 freaking teams in it — would have essentially argued not just that their regular season accomplishment meant nothing, but that the regular season, anyone’s regular season, was in fact pointless: It would tell college basketball fans across the country that there was no reason for any of them to pay attention until March, something non-college basketball fans already do, but nonetheless is not exactly the message you want to send to your most loyal customers.

The situation was aggravated, of course, by Pearl’s advocacy for Auburn, the team he coached last year and which, thanks in no small part to his interference advocacy, is now coached by his son. 

Bruce Pearl has been an unethical gasbag for years.  Curmie described him thus in 2010: 

Pearl and many (most?) of his brethren don’t give a crap about under-prepared kids in general, just the 6’8” ones with post-up skills. And when they’ve served the only purpose Pearl has for them, namely winning basketball games and thereby inflating his salary, he’s perfectly willing to toss them, 70% of them, sans degree or NBA contract, on the scrap heap.

Curmie isn’t a fan, to say the least.

But here’s the problem: Curmie agrees with him on both of these issues.  Unless there was some locker-room stuff we don’t know about, firing Davis was remarkably stupid.  The Tarheels’ best player, Caleb Wilson, was lost for the season due to a pair of injuries.  With him in the lineup, they were 19-4, including five wins against ranked teams.  Without him, they were 5-5, including losses in their first games in both the ACC and NCAA tournaments.  A little loyalty, or at least recognition that sometimes you have bad luck, wouldn’t have come amiss.

As for the NCAA selections…  Well, if I tell you that the team that won both the regular season and tournament in the Big East (St. John’s) was a 5-seed and the team that came in second in both (UConn) was a 2-seed, that should tell you how much the committee really cares about getting things right.  (Curmie had St. John’s as a 2 and UConn as a 4.)  And there’s absolutely no question that Miami shouldn’t have been in the tournament.  Yes, they went undefeated in the regular season, but their strength of schedule in the non-con according to KenPom was #361 (of 365).  If they’d played literally anyone actually good and lost a close game against, say, Ohio State (or even Cincinnati), that would probably have been the best game they played all year, but no one would be arguing for them; they’re somewhere around the 90th best team. 

Their best win was against Akron, at home, by one possession; they won four (!) games in overtime.  On the one hand, that makes them scrappy and well-coached.  On the other hand, it means that if in any of those four games, a single jump-shot in regulation had been a quarter of an inch in one direction or the other and therefore rattled in instead of out or vice versa, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.  They’d have taken their automatic bid to the NIT (the way Curmie’s former employer did, having won their conference regular season title and then losing in the championship game on their opponent’s home court (!) instead of a first-round loss to the #198 team in the country on a neutral court).  Note to Will Leitch: pay a little attention or you’ll say something stupid.

Curmie will grant that CBS shouldn’t have let Pearl opine about Auburn, but they probably couldn’t resist.  They also, of course, called on Wally Szczerbiak, unquestionably one of the two best players in RedHawks history, to make the case for his alma mater.  They probably think it’s cute.  They’re wrong.

So… that’s enough college basketball talk for now.  Until the next topic comes up, at least.

Thoughts on a Play Curmie Hasn't Seen

Henry Drummond (Billy Eugene Jones) interrogates
Matthew Harrison Brady (Dakin Matthews)
in the Arena Stage production of Inherit the Wind.

The Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee classic Inherit the Wind has played an important role in Curmie’s life more than once.  He first encountered the play when he was in high school, at a time when he began having real doubts about organized religion in general and Christianity in particular.  Of course, this was in the early ‘70s, a time of turbulence in American society in general—the Vietnam War, civil rights, what was then called “women’s liberation,” campus protests, drug culture…  Not all of those things had much of a direct effect on Curmie, but what had always been taken for granted was increasingly being questioned.

The play, of course, was based on the “Scopes Monkey Trial” in Tennessee in 1925.  The irreverence of Henry Drummond, the Clarence Darrow character, shows towards Matthew Harrison Brady (William Jennings Bryan) really caught Curmie’s attention.  He was particularly fond of the bit about where Cain’s wife came from: “Figure somebody pulled off another creation, over in the next county?”  That’s the kind of snark that appealed a lot to an adolescent who wanted desperately to be rebellious but couldn’t quite handle the social discomfort.  Fifty-something years later, Curmie still approves.

Above all, though, Curmie was introduced to the idea that drama can be about something, not just pretty words or an engaging story.  He hadn’t put all the pieces together yet, but this play was indeed destined to play a role in Curmie’s career choices, especially the willingness to explore the more academic side of the business after it became clear that he had more intellect than acting talent.

Speaking of which…  A few years later, in the summer between his freshman and sophomore years of college, Curmie auditioned for a production of Inherit the Wind in the summer season of the local college, whose theatre building was literally across the street from his house.  He was cast, not in the role he wanted, but cast.  His role may be the most difficult he’s ever played: not because it was a lead (Curmie has had a couple, though not many), but precisely because it wasn’t.  Part of the difficulty was, no doubt, due to Curmie’s inexperience; things would certainly have been easier had he had a few more shows behind him before essaying the part. 

But a good deal of the struggle came from the role itself.  Curmie played Harry Y. Esterbrook, the announcer for WGN radio in Chicago.  In the trial scenes, which are at the center of the play, Esterbrook is on stage, facing the audience, every moment.  All those clichés about how “acting is reacting” were certainly true for that part.  Curmie had very few lines to hide behind or build a character around, and it was one of those roles that can’t really help the show, but sure can hurt it.

But what Curmie really got out of that production was something different.  He had no choice but to watch the other actors, and indeed really to pay attention to them.  While Esterbrook was watching Drummond or Brady or Hornbeck (the H. L. Mencken character), Curmie was watching actors more skilled—whether by experience, talent, or both—than himself.  He noticed the difference between standing on the line and before it, the subtle but noticeable turn of the head that set up a moment, the pause that made the audience listen more intently to what followed.  He also listened to the director, who was excellent in some ways but given to rants… and he saw the veteran actors pretty much ignore these outbursts.  If you’re screaming all the time, it doesn’t matter that you’re screaming now.  That applies to life in general, of course, but especially to the stage.

Curmie got better as an actor, in large part because of that show: not good enough to make a living at it, but he did play a few featured roles in student productions as an undergrad and even a couple of leads in amateur productions after graduation.  But without even contemplating the possibility that he might someday be a director, he learned a great deal from the experience of Inherit the Wind about how to do that job, too.

It is ironic, to be sure, that whereas Curmie did indeed end up acting in a couple dozen more plays and directing 60 or so over the course of his career, his job was as a theatre scholar, and it wasn’t until years after being in that production of Inherit the Wind that he realized that the play is about the Scopes trial in very much the same way that The Crucible is about the Salem witch trials of the late 17th century: in other words, as a stand-in for something else.  In both cases, that “something else” was the anti-communist fervor exemplified by investigations by Joseph McCarthy et al. in the Senate and HUAC in the House.  Whereas Arthur Miller concentrated on the false accusations, Lawrence and Lee were more about the suppression of ideas, but the two plays end up in pretty much the same place, and do so in similar fashion, by creating a fictive world that approximates but does not reproduce historical events.

Cates, of course, is found guilty.  His fine has been paid, but he has no future in this small Tennessee town.  Drummond recognizes this, but provides a bit of context: “You don’t suppose this kind of thing is ever finished, do you?  Tomorrow it’ll be something else—and another fella will have to stand up.  And you’ve helped give him the guts to do it!”  We are left with the confidence that Cates, probably more than the IRL person on whom he is based, will be fine.

While it is a little embarrassing that Curmie took literally years to figure out that a play written in the immediate aftermath of the McCarthy era might be about something more than just a 30-year-old trial in Tennessee, at least he’s perceptive enough to notice that there’s a reason for theatre companies in 2026 to choose this particular chestnut.  Being that “next fella” matters, especially as attempts by the right to suppress any expression they don’t like are springing up faster than zits on prom night.  

Curmie started to list the cases he’s written about just in this academic year, but that list got really long.  A couple of highlights, then: the cancellation of a student-directed play because there are… you know… <whispers> gay people in it; the professor who was fired and the retired cop who was charged with a felony (!) for posting memes insufficiently hagiographic about Charlie Kirk (certainly far less celebratory than Dear Leader’s recent outburst about the passing of Robert Mueller); the Texas A&M philosophy prof who was forbidden to assign a passage from Plato, and his colleague from a different department whose class was cancelled after it had already met because he couldn’t predict which specific days class discussion might veer into territory the censorial regime didn’t like.  And on and on. 

Plus, of course, we should mention the various felonies committed by ICE/DHS/whoever against citizens exercising their 1st Amendment rights, including but by no means limited to the murder of Alex Pretti.  Plus, of course, all of those incidents that Curmie posted about on his Facebook page but never wrote about… and the hundreds (no doubt) that Curmie never even heard about.  Yeah, it’s time for a production of Inherit the Wind, which, of course, also highlights the dangers of cherry-picking which sections of the Bible should form the foundation of a weltanschauung and which can be readily ignored.

So… anyway… there is such a production at Arena Stage in Washington, DC, presented in cooperation with Seattle-based The Feast company (director Ryan Guzzo Purcell is the founder of The Feast).  It is a trimmed-down version: there must have been a couple dozen actors in the production Curmie was in; this one has only ten, with a lot of doubling and only a sprinkling of jurors on stage at any given moment, for example.  As might be expected, this is a show created by Woke Folk: Drummond is black; Hornbeck is female (one presumes that the company got approval from the rights-holders for this change); the cast is listed alphabetically in the program, which also includes a land acknowledgment.  <Sigh.>

Curmie’s dear friend Paul Webb reviewed the production on his blog, which, Gentle Reader, if you’re a theatre-goer in the DC area, you should bookmark.  Paul touches on some curious choices in terms of time period: both in terms of costumes and, for example, the presence of a 50-star American flag, which strikes Curmie as more likely intentional than lazy (but he doesn’t totally reject the latter as a possibility).  A couple of other choices were curious: giving Brady, a Nebraskan, a southern drawl and even putting him in a white suit that make him look like a refugee from a KFC commercial for at least one scene, for instance.  (Bryan was from Illinois,)

Over at Ethics Alarms, Jack Marshall declares the production “stupid,” a “travesty,” and “absurd,” among similar endearments.  Is he right?  Up to a point, yes.  Part of the play’s appeal stems from the audience’s recognition of the historical reference: at some level, Bert Cates is John Scopes, Henry Drummond is Clarence Darrow, etc., and there’s no way some of what happens in this production could have occurred in the real world: no rational defendant would hire a black lawyer in Tennessee in 1925, for instance… not to mention the fact that the author of the textbook in question used evolution as a means of supporting eugenics and the alleged superiority of the white race, and it’s rather unlikely that a black man would be much interested in taking up that cause.

But this is a fictionalized version of events, not a literal re-telling with the “names changed to protect the innocent,” à la “Dragnet.”  For example, Bert Cates may be dating the preacher’s daughter, but John Scopes wasn’t; the locals may have been hoping Scopes would be convicted, but they weren’t hostile towards the outsiders (they welcomed the visitors who were spending money in their town); Bryan didn’t die until several days after the trial, in his sleep, not mere moments after the verdict was announced.  

Lawrence and Lee altered the story to make it more theatrical, in the same way that Shakespeare played fast and loose with his history plays.  (Curmie spent a very long time indeed re-learning the actual events of the Plantagenet and Tudor eras after first reading about them in plays like Henry V and Richard III.)  The changes wrought in Inherit the Wind tend mostly to increase the tension, making things more difficult for Cates: he has become more of a pariah in the community, and his personal and professional lives are more in conflict with each other.

What appears to have happened in the Arena production is to exaggerate these departures from history per se and their effects even more.  Without having seen the play in production, Curmie is loath to proclaim these changes successful or otherwise, but he suspects he’d have felt preached at and/or condescended to.  It’s important to note here that changing the time period, or the race and/or sex of a character aren’t inherently problematic: Curmie has indeed done all of the above, usually because there just wasn’t a good enough male actor or white singer or whatever.  Such problems are unlikely to present themselves in a professional production in Washington, DC.

In all probability, the squishiness of the time frame is intended to make the audience think about how this play, written over 70 years ago and referencing events of 30 years before that, is relevant to today’s world.  Curmie doesn’t think that’s necessary; rather, he’s going to trust the audience’s perspicacity (and his own story-telling ability) to make those connections without artificial assistance.  One of the essential elements of theatre is audience superiority: not just “I see what you did there,” but “and I saw it before the people in the row in front of me did.”  Whether a 50-star flag helps or hurts this process probably varies by spectator as well as by production choices.  (It would be interesting to know which came first: the decision to cast a black Drummond, necessitating the time change, or the time change, allowing a black Drummond.)

But all of this dances around the central issue: there’s a professional production of Inherit the Wind out there!  Curmie would definitely go if he was in the area, but there are four screen versions, including three that seem to be available on Tubi: the original 1960 film with a host of recognizable actors led by Spencer Tracy as Drummond and Fredric March as Brady (this is the only one Curmie has seen; it’s really good); a 1988 TV version with Kirk Douglas and Jason Robards; and another TV version, this one from 1999, with Jack Lemmon and George C. Scott.  Curmie might just have to check one of these out before long…

Musings on the Afroman Defamation Case

Afroman dressed up for his court date.

Curmie has one piece about 80% written and two or three others pretty much blocked out in his head, but let’s go with the Saga of Afroman, who successfully defended a lawsuit for defamation this week.  If ever there was a definition by example of the Streisand Effect, this is it.  Curmie admits he’d never heard of Afroman (Joseph Foreman), or of “Lemon Pound Cake,” (the best-known of his responses to a botched raid on his property) or indeed his Grammy-nominated single “Because I Got High.”  But now, even the hopelessly uncool Curmie knows who he is, and, perhaps more relevantly, about that raid in August of 2022.

That raid, conducted by the sheriff’s office in Adams County, Ohio (that’s southeast of Cincinnati, along the Kentucky border), happened when our hero was out of town.  Yes, they did indeed kick the door in, cause considerable damage to the gate, cut the cords to his home security video system, and seize a significant amount of cash.  The warrant was for drug trafficking and kidnapping, and there was no evidence that could lead to a prosecution.  Oh, and the cops apparently refused to pay for the financial damage they caused, let alone the trauma inflicted by waving assault weapons in at least the general direction of Foreman’s kids, both tweens at the time.

That said, the warrant existed, and it wasn’t issued by the cops themselves.  If there was indeed a reasonable suspicion that there was kidnapping involved, then the whole weapons-drawn, kicking-down-the-door business is at least understandable.  And we have only Afroman’s testimony that the amount of cash returned was less than what was seized.  Indeed, we have only his word about the destruction to the property, although there doesn’t seem to be any denial forthcoming from the sheriff’s office.  More troubling are the lyrics to the newly released “Randy Walters Is a Son of Bitch,” which includes the line “that’s why I fucked his wife and got filthy rich.”  Completely apart from the language issue, there’s the suggestion of impropriety by Walters’s wife, and he’s got no legitimate beef with her, even if he does with her husband.  It appears to be the case that the officers in question were, at least at the raid itself, simply doing their jobs and executing a warrant; it is certainly true that some of the stuff in those videos was vicious and vengeful.

Anyway, the cops (seven of them!) sued for defamation to the tune of $3.5 million.  There were all kinds of courtroom histrionics, including Sgt. Walters testifying that he doesn’t know whether the allegations about his wife are true or not and Officer Lisa Phillips crying on the stand when viewing one of Afroman’s taunts (proving either that she doesn’t have the stuff to be a cop or that she got some really bad advice from her attorney).  Afroman himself, of course, completely controlled the narrative during his own testimony, remaining steadfastly on the offensive.

And that’s certainly one of the messages here: don’t sue someone who is smarter than you, funnier than you, accustomed to being a performer, and rich enough to hire a top-notch legal team... certainly not for a jury trial.  But should those be legitimate criteria?  Everyday folks have rights, too, and the cops were initially highlighted not because they did anything wrong, per se, but because they were easily identifiable.  There seems to have been little if any attempt to place blame on whoever provided the presumably false testimony that led to the warrant, or on the judge who signed off on it.  And surely the majority of the cops on the scene shouldn’t be expected to pay for repairs to the premises with their own money.  Moreover, we can reasonably assume that the money Afroman raised directly or indirectly from a viral video far exceeded the cost of the repairs to his residence.

It’s also true that the notion of being a public figure is, or at least ought to be, on a continuum.  At one end of the spectrum are celebrities of whatever description; at the other end are the overwhelming majority of us, people unknown except to their friends and associates.  The county sheriff would be between those extremes, but closer to the latter than to the former.  Is he a sufficiently “public individual” to allow greater latitude to someone ridiculing him, even up to the point of saying things that are gross exaggerations or even untruths?  Are his subordinates?

Is it relevant, therefore, that some of the things Afroman sings about never happened?  He wasn’t there to hear the glass break, for example.  He also says in his court testimony that his kids saw him being threatened.  They didn’t, and there’s a difference between what he puts in a song and what he says on the witness stand. 

Curmie’s initial response to the verdict in the Afroman case was a combination of celebration and laughter.  That’s in large part because the overwhelming majority of cops Curmie has encountered—whether he was reporting a crime, getting stopped for speeding, or anything in-between—have been self-important jackasses, and the small-town version is particularly obnoxious, because they’re also, generally, rather stupid.  Curmie shouldn’t assume that the small-town cops in question here fit that description, but that hypothesis has so far not been disproven.  And the fact that the ACLU and a host of other civil liberties organizations applauded the verdict tells us something.

It’s unsettling, though, that Afroman is also pretty much a jerk.  He’s clever and charismatic, but that doesn’t make him other than cruel and vindictive.  It’s also true that, as someone said in a comment on one of those YouTube videos, this episode has extended his career by 15 years.  Yes, his legal victory brought a refreshing break from whatever other stories appeared in the daily doomscrolling, but there’s something disquieting, too.

Afroman is the hero we need.  Whether he is the hero we deserve is up for debate.