N and I loved the first part of the movie and decided to see the sequel. I mean, I think we loved it. N says so, and I uncovered a post from back when I saw it and the post confirms.

The problem is, I discard information I deem unnecessary with extraordinary celerity. I have no memory of the movie, and couldn’t even identify its genre. Reading my own review of it brought no clarity.

The sequel is fine. It’s a healing fantasy for American masculinity. N says that the original movie was better, and I trust him. But it was such a great, peaceful time at the movie theater today, in the deep leather seats that spread out almost like beds. The first two weeks of class have worn me out, and not because there is any actual complexity at work. It’s my sixth year as department Chair, and at this point everything runs almost by itself. But these have been two weeks where people have sought me out much more than I need. I need barely any human contact outside of my family, so I wasn’t necessarily entertained by having people come to me one after another, crashing through a wall in the dark lounge where I went to spend a quiet half hour (true story), trying to wrestle away the office door that I was attempting to close for some privacy in my office, and asking in hushed voices “Is she in there?” every 15 minutes. And this isn’t even counting a strange child who got into my car and refused to leave for 15 minutes (true story). This is why the mountains of evildoers that Bob Odenkirk murders in creative, limb-tearing way in the movie felt quite soothing.

I so love daytime showings at American movie theaters. And American movies. I love pretty much everything and everybody now that I have several days ahead of me when I don’t have to be available to people. I don’t mean you, readers. You are all great and I love all your comments always. I mean people at work and strange children who breach the perimeter of my car.

Here’s today’s video:

I look a thousand years old because it’s the second week of the academic year, and I’ve just about depleted myself. But I do introduce an aphorism of my own creation that’s really cool. Plus, if it’s humanly possible to be kinder, more respectful and polite to trans people than we are on this show, I don’t know how that could be achieved.

We’ll still be censored because we get banned for using terms like “the black market” and “I went yellow with anger” (it’s a calque, just accept it as it is.)

This is not my house. I have traumatic childhood memories of these things on the ceiling, I forget what they are called. I’d never want something like this. But the image does reflect the contents of my mind pretty well, which is why I’m posting it.

Freedom of speech doesn’t mean a guaranteed audience for your speech. For example, if people decide not to watch my videos (I’m taping one on the Minneapolis shooter today, by the way), they are not infringing on my freedom of speech. They are simply exercising their freedom not to listen.

What I do in such situations is adopting what somebody recently aptly called “the dotty aunt act.” When people start on their ideological trip, I chime in with a beaming look, “Oh, and I’m sorry for interrupting but I keep wanting to ask, how is your daughter doing in her first weeks of college? That’s so exciting!” or “Oh my God, and sorry for interrupting, but you won’t believe the funny thing that the Dean said.”

I have this perfect little anecdote about how the Dean said in a meeting, “Our university has many delayed maintenance obligations in the amount of a billion dollars”. And as he said that, pieces of stucco started falling from the ceiling right on his head. I already interrupted half a dozen unnecessary conversations with this story.

I understand that this strategy works for some personalities and not others. If you don’t have the dotty aunt look, it might be harder for you.

Does anybody have any suggestions for more seriously looking people?

At least 17 killed now. The outcome of the Alaska summit with Putin (where Trump changed his mind about sanctions and about the need for a ceasefire) was the second-largest Russian barrage on Kyiv since the war began. https://t.co/uN6rWNCGfD

— Yaroslav Trofimov (@yarotrof) August 28, 2025

Trump’s peacemaking efforts are having as much success as his deportation policies.

People, did you see the horrible news? Another woke shooter murdered children praying in church.

What a terrible tragedy.

It is a great civilizational achievement that we have a class of people who can dedicate their lives to thinking about books. It’s the most wonderful thing. We live in a society that is wealthy and confident enough to have a whole class of people tasked with guarding the cultural legacy of the world. Our Humanities were the wonder of the world. Every bookish kid on the planet looked up to it. It was an oasis. It was a miracle.

We are throwing this incredible achievement away in order to peddle vulgar online influencers. We have emptied the libraries. We have demonized lecturing and abjured the idea of a professor professing knowledge from the podium as a figure of intellectual authority. We have rubbished the canon and condemned intellectualism. We have enshrined pettiness and poor taste.

Nobody is making us do it. No occupational force that is hostile to culture took over. All of this is self-inflicted and eagerly sought out by the very people who will be made redundant by these policies.

The Dean made a little speech yesterday about something appalling he had seen.

“I walked down the hallway yesterday,” he said in a voice that trembled with outrage. “I looked into several classrooms, and I saw faculty members doing ______ . I’m not saying that everybody does it and I don’t want to name any names because I don’t want to embarrass people. But I can’t believe that after everything, everything we’ve discussed, everything we know, all the research on the topic, there are still people who do this.”

Immediately, professors started explaining that no, they were not doing __________. It might have looked that they were doing it but was only because of the logistics of the classroom. But no, they would never. They know how bad _____________ is and they’d never engage in such behavior.

I said nothing because I do ___________ all the time and I love it.

So who can guess what ___________ is?

Somebody donated a large sum of money to the university to promote the study of the Humanities. I was invited to attend the opening ceremony. I was invited in person, as one of the few faculty members. This is an important part of the story, so please keep it in mind.

The ceremony consisted of the presentation of a book that all incoming students will read and discuss in class to foster their love of the Humanities.

Hardcover, illustrated, here is the book:

I took a copy and looked at the list of “every country in the world.” Ukraine is not there but Russia is, with slobbering descriptions of how pretty everything is and how nice the people are.

The book itself is an exercise in narcissism and vulgarity. The author poses, mostly half-dressed, with body parts falling out of skimpy outfits. The countries she visited are a framework for her admiration of herself. It’s downright embarrassing to be caught leafing through this kind of book in a store, let alone in an academic setting.

But wait, it gets better. There’s another book that will be obligatory reading. It’s this one:

It wouldn’t occur to people (I hope) to invite a Jew to visit an event featuring a book gushing over the wonderfulness of Nazi Germany. Or invite a black professor to discuss a book on the joys of slavery. But insulting a Ukrainian, that’s perfectly fine. Some feelings matter more than others. But leaving aside my personal grievances, is it any wonder students aren’t interested in the Humanities? There’s no history here, no intellectual tradition. Just vapid, superficial crap with zero value. This is what the university thinks the Humanities are. It’s not Aristotle or Cervantes. Instead, it’s some dime-a-dozen online influencer and a faddy quack of an author who will be forgotten tomorrow.

I didn’t stay for the ceremony. The embarrassment was devouring me.

I’m the best worst student known to humanity. The Dean made us read a book of neoliberal propaganda and hold a two-hour discussion of it.

Obviously, I didn’t even consider opening the book, let alone reading it. But I easily made the impression of having perused it with great care and attention. During the discussion, I’d crack the book open, catch a random sentence, and then say, “what I found especially provocative / curious / engaging, etc is” and reproduce the random sentence verbatim.