Deb had a doctor’s appointment this morning. Nothing too serious, just the kind of persistent GI stuff that goes with being on the road. She also wanted the doc to check out her broken finger — I know I haven’t mentioned it, but just before we left Arkansas she was walking the dogs, Scout bolted and her left hand got caught up in the leash. She’s had the injured middle finger splinted since.
The last time she was in a doctor’s office was December, in Harrison. Typical of the culture there, the waiting room TV was tuned to Fox News and no one in the medical practice wore a mask.
Here in central Ohio today it was a very different story.
A face diaper was required to enter, of course, and was provided. There were distancing dots on the floor and plexiglass barriers at the counter. The television featured an inoffensive slideshow of nature scenes.
Deb signed the log using a pen from a basket at the check-in counter. When she’d finished she dropped the pen back into the basket.
The woman behind the counter, to hear Deb tell it, had a look of horror on her masked face — two dozen pens now were hopelessly contaminated! She picked up the basket, handling it like it was a live grenade, and whisked it away to be autoclaved (or whatever).
Shortly after Deb arrived in the exam room the doctor came in. He’s been her regular GP for many years, so they have a cordial relationship. He knew we’d been traveling and asked her about that.
“It’s been great, but I want to tell you something,” she snapped. “The first time in forever that I’ve had to put on a damned mask is this fucking place!”
(I love that woman.)
He reached up, pulled off his own mask and, grinning, nodded to her.
“Go ahead, take yours off.”
When the exam was over, he reminded her to put it back on — only for appearances’ sake — as she walked out of the office.
It’s all such bullshit. Deb and I refuse to pretend otherwise.
A lot of us have made hay from the current SCOTUS nominee’s assertion that she couldn’t define “woman” because she’s “not a biologist.” That’s absurd, and everyone (with a brain) knows it’s a scripted dodge.
These confirmation hearings are as curious as they are maddening. The only truly important questions asked of a nominee have to do with judicial philosophy and fidelity to the Constitution. Regardless of ideology, it’s a pass-fail proposition. Nothing else much matters.
Conservative nominees are happy to speak to those subjects, which explains why Democrats (who fundamentally loathe the Constitution) steer inquiry toward high-school yearbooks, beer and pubic hair. But when a radical progressive nominee (like this one) comes before the committee they refuse to address relevant issues, claiming that it’d be imprudent to comment on matters that may come before the high court.
And so we learn virtually nothing.
But back to biology. When we hear, “I’m not a biologist” — and setting aside the fact that the nominee’s sole intent was to avoid answering the question posed — we might actually hope that a SCOTUS justice would defer to expertise greater than their own on subjects outside their knowledge and experience.
Generally, I mean. Stay with me.
An intellectually honest justice, for example, first would look to settled science and discover that the female of our species has two X chromosomes, thus defining “woman,” and then apply the law with respect to irrefutable biological fact.
Unfortunately, the Supreme Court of the United States has a record of doing otherwise.
I was in eighth grade, I think, when I learned that a tomato is classified botanically as a fruit, not a vegetable. A fruit develops from the fertilized ovary of a flower, and that’s how we get tomatoes.
Science always was fun for me, and this knowledge was a point of pride — one of those little-known facts I could drop on uncles and cousins and unsuspecting friends. No matter what the masses believe, ‘maters ain’t vetch-tuh-bulls, ok?
Not so fast.
In 1883 the feds started taxing imported vegetables. Fruits were exempt from the tariff, so tomatoes would get a pass — or they should have, but the law required that they be taxed as vegetables. A large produce company sued the tax collector for the Port of New York and the case, Nix v. Hedden, went all the way to the Supreme Court.
The Court looked at biology — and then, despite what science said, they ruled unanimously to ignore it and keep taxing tomatoes. Why?
Because most people think they’re vegetables anyway. And nobody eats tomatoes for dessert.
I’m not kidding. Look it up.
My point, I suppose, is that we shouldn’t take “I’m not a biologist” to mean that this nominee would ever accept the biological definition of “woman.” Her woke ideology, her race and her gender identity always will be more important than scientific fact — and certainly more important than the Constitution of the United States.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
(Today’s header image comes from the Massillon Museum in my hometown of Massillon, Ohio.)