Fluke U. : Meet the Flukes!

By the way, have you ever noticed that the modern definition of “social” is “not”? Social science is not science. Social work is not work. Social justice is not justice.

The American Spectator : Meet the Flukes!

By F. H. Buckley from the May 2012 issue

Too many Americans today are "born without a skin."

There’s a uniquely American ritual that has so far escaped the attention of cultural anthropologists. A group of people huddle, near a water cooler perhaps. One of them lowers his head, looks nervously from side to side, and then begins to speak softly, so that no one else might hear.
You’ve caught him in the act of perpetrating a joke.
This isn’t exactly the golden age of humor, as Rush Limbaugh discovered. For which our morality police will breathe a sigh of relief. They don’t have to worry about an edgy Saturday Night Live (“Jane, you ignorant slut!”) or National Lampoon. In fact, they don’t much have to worry about laughter at all, since there isn’t a lot of it. Laughter is dangerous, you see, because in every joke there’s a butt, someone at whom we laugh. Otherwise, it’s not funny.
That’s precisely the problem, however. Our laughter tells the butt that he’s a fool, a chump, a hypocrite. In short, he’s ridiculous. That’s a useful message, since our laughter tells the butt to shape up. Poor sap, he should thank us. Not that that’s likely, since there’s nothing more humiliating than ridicule.
That explains the death of laughter, since it collides with its arch-foe, the modern duty of respect. We used to think that social justice was all about economic needs, but now we’ve got a stronger safety net and it’s about banning expressions of disrespect. Gay marriage, the “war on women.” It’s all about feelings.
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