A restaurant in Maine has been blowing marijuana smoke in lobsters’ faces, in an effort to minimize their pain when they get boiled alive. Local officials have stepped in to put a stop to the practice, and though I have no evidence of this, it seems to me this latest outbreak of schoolmarmism has “old white guys” written all over it.
Americans who follow the news may be aware of just how many crevices the tentacles of old white guys reach into, and how many arteries of freedom the old white guys are apt to clog.
There’s a psychological phenomenon at work here. I’m on the cusp of being an old white guy myself, but a very long time ago, I was a young white guy. So, I was riddled with white privilege. Back then, white privilege meant your family rode around in a Ford Country Squire, and your dad owned a CB radio, and when you became aware that there was a thing in the world called a Fender Stratocaster, your parents could buy one for you.
It also meant that you lived in a neighborhood where if a black person showed up, they were either a maid, or a mailman, or a suspicious character.
