| ◼ Price controls are a bad idea that has endured since, at least, Babylon notwithstanding millennia of failure. It’s therefore no great surprise that Senator Bernie Sanders (I, Vt.) is promoting a bill to “temporarily” cap credit card interest rates at 10 percent, and not much more of one that Donald Trump, playing the populist, supported such a cap on the campaign trail. Their partner in economic illiteracy is Senator Josh Hawley (Mo.). Even Republicans, such as Hawley, who like to distance themselves from the market fundamentalist boogeyman, should draw the line at supporting legislation that will hurt those it purports to help. Prices—and interest rates are just the price of money—are not drawn out of a hat. Supply and demand determine them. For government to “help” by fixing a price cap well below current rates in the credit card market would mean that issuers sharply reduce such lending to less qualified borrowers, leaving them with fewer and worse places to turn. At least the loan sharks will be better off.
◼ One might expect that a Spanish-language musical about a Mexican drug cartel kingpin who escapes his life of crime with an attorney who helps him transition into a woman would not attract a mass following. And it hasn’t. The film Emilia Pérez has, however, stunned the critics. It won the Jury Prize at the Cannes Film Festival, and Best Film at the Golden Globes. It secured no fewer than 13 Oscar nominations. Informed speculation might lead observers to conclude that the film’s pro-transgenderism themes, not the production itself, wowed the arbiters of culture. That, and the film’s lead actor, Karla Gascón, who previously identified as Carlos Gascón when he associated himself with the accidents of his birth. Gascón was heralded as a star for the ages, in large measure for promoting transgenderism from a celebrity’s perch. But that celebrity was short-lived. The people using Gascón as a vehicle to smuggle pro-trans narratives into the culture discovered that their avatar has an extensive record of making impolitic comments on social media. Gascón sneered at the “deeply disgusting” form of conservative dress Islamic codes prescribed for women. “Islam fails to comply with international rights,” the actor wrote. George Floyd was a “drug addict swindler,” Gascón added. He speculated that Hitler “simply had his opinions about Jews.” Overnight, this promising rising talent had become, in Variety’s estimation, the “Donald Trump of Oscar Season.” If Gascón is surprised by the about-face, it’s because the actor mistook the admiration for genuine respect rather than what it was: condescension.
◼ Starting in 2020, the National Football League stenciled END RACISM on the endlines under the goalposts at its games. It has announced that the phrase will not appear at the Super Bowl this year, having been replaced by CHOOSE LOVE. Both are odd messages from a league that regularly and disproportionately makes black men multimillionaires and whose product is based on regulated interpersonal violence. Regardless, we find it unlikely that any racist or hateful people are changing their behavior after reading the endlines at NFL games, so maybe just painting the line would do?
◼ Roughly half a century after the Daily Telegraph first prepared her obituary, Marianne Faithfull, an icon of swinging London who survived drug addiction, alcoholism, anorexia, homelessness, two suicide attempts, and involvement with three Rolling Stones, has died at 78. She was widely mourned as a “national treasure,” a British honor higher than any bauble from the monarch. Faithfull’s recording of “As Tears Go By” (a song written by the Stones’ manager, whom she met at, of course, a party, and by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards)—together, it should be said, with her remarkable beauty—launched her as a pop star and cultural phenomenon. Her rise was marked by heroic hedonism and capped by a four-year relationship with Jagger. And then she burned out, lost, it seemed forever, before a triumphant rebirth with a deeper voice (laryngitis, smoking, and drugs) and a bleak, widely praised album, Broken English, far removed from the gentle folk music that was once her trademark. The road back had its bumps, but a series of releases established her as the outrageous, clever, (sometimes) charming and very (her mother was an Austro-Hungarian baroness) grande dame of Bohemia. R.I.P. |