I have mentioned before that I find it remarkable that if you can string three sentences together and appear relatively affluent and educated, people assume that you hate the President and believe that “everything is terrible.”
Today I was waiting in an inexcusably long line because Harris Teeter’s had only one check-out station open even though it had to know that the snow-phobic Northern Virginians would be stocking up for the weekend snow storm. I found myself behind a chatty and pleasant woman close to my age. She struck up a conversation, and, as usual, I was not at a loss for words. We talked about movies and history, National Parks, the Tunnel Tree, and Theodore Roosevelt.
She said she wished it were a longer line because she enjoyed the conversation so much, and out of the blue said that if we weren’t going to be so snow-bound, she would join a protest somewhere, because there is so much to protest. She said it as if she didn’t think there was a chance in a million that I wasn’t in complete agreement. After all, I was friendly, polite and articulate: surely I must be terrified by the threat to democracy that all decent people—all her friends and social media pals and those smart pundits on MSNBC—see.
I saw no point in challenging her. In my experience, when I ask, “What exactly do you think is so terrible?” the answers that come back are vague, evasive, non-substantive or factually wrong. She seemed happy and was enjoying my company. Why break the mood? I’ll probably never see the old bat again. I did not want to prompt an imitation of that woman in “The Birds.”
I was dying to point out, I must confess, that her disdain for Donald trump was at odds with her stated admiration of Teddy Roosevelt, since Trump’s view of his office is more Rooseveltian than any POTUS since TR, with the exception of his cousin Franklin. I’m pretty sure Trump had Teddy in mind when he reacted with defiance after being shot: Roosevelt pulled the same stunt in 1912.
It is remarkable that everyone around here just assumes you are a member of their progressive club, or cult, or delusion. Never have I had anyone make the opposite assumption, that I am one of them, the evil people who think this President is doing many things that desperately need to be done, and that he deserves more support and respect for having the guts to do them.
Some of the things on the list of 25 are indeed genuinely stupid and annoying, like #7 on the list, “My mom still writes checks at the grocery store and stands there balancing her checkbook while everyone else stares impatiently at her, #15, “They use plastic cutlery so they don’t have to wash the real silverware, but then they wash and reuse the plastic ones to be thrifty!”, or #17, “Driving 10+ under the speed limit.”
Others, however, are the result of a whippersnapper’s unjust criticism of a different choice that is defensible, ignorance, or just plain snottiness.
“They own cell phones yet insist on keeping their landlines.”
Reaction: Bite me. I maintain a landline for business. It’s still more comfortable for long substantive conversations, and I prefer to keep my cell phone access limited.
“Turning the volume on the TV all the way down instead of pressing mute.”
Reaction: Why in the world would anyone care about this enough to be annoyed by it?
“My mom ALWAYS puts her phone on speaker phone. Even in public, she uses the speaker phone.”
Reaction: That’s not an old person thing; I see people of all ages, especially women, doing this.
Last night I found myself bereft of several food items, basics like bread, spaghetti sauce, milk, hot dog relish and grape soda, so I took a jaunt over to the local grocery store to re-stock. The place was almost literally deserted; I thought of Dick Van Dyke, on his show’s famous flying saucer episode (“Unny Uffs!”) working late in an empty office and saying to himself in his best Boris Karloff impression that he felt like “the only living thell in a dead body.”
But one human being was in evidence…a short, slight little middle aged man with slicked down hair who is apparently on the job all day and night, all week long. I see him every time I visit that branch. He is always bustling about, restocking shelves, giving directions to customers, and generally hurrying up and down aisles like the White Rabbit in Disney’s animated “Alice in Wonderland.”
I had thought before, in past visits, that he was as hard working and professional an individual as I had ever encountered anywhere in any occupation, always cheerful, always cheerily greeting me and anyone else he came across. My only discourse with him before last night was to answer his “How are you today. sir?” greetings and to answer, “No, I’m okay, thanks!” when he asked. “Can I help you find anything?’
Last night, however, when we passed in an aisle and briefly ended up face to face, I noticed that he had a blackened, swollen eye and a large bandage over his cheek beneath it. So I inquired, “What happened to your face?” His expression immediately brightened, his demeanor relaxed, and he began telling me that he had that week an operation on a basil carcinoma. Animatedly, the man, whose name I did not know and still don’t know, told me about his history with skin cancers, the experiences of his three sisters, the size of the small growth removed, and more: where he grew up, how much time he has spent in the sun as a child, and his favorite sports and activities growing up. I stood there for 20 minutes listening to him. It seemed that he was so grateful to receive a caring response from one of the hundreds of Harris Teeter’s shoppers he must encounter every day, most of whom treat him as if he were a mannequin at Target, as I always had.
Admit it, now: when you learned that Kiefer Sutherland had been arrested, you thought, as I did, “Ah HA! I always suspected that guy wasn’t acting when he played those evil characters in “Stand By Me,” “A Time to Kill,” “The Lost Boys”and “Eye for an Eye.” He didn’t fool me by playing good guys and heroes since “24”!”
Today the reports are that the actor threatened to kill an Uber driver. He had ordered an Uber Black (What the hell is an “Uber Black”? Is Uber like Johnny Walker now?) after having dinner with a friend, or so law enforcement sources told TMZ. When the late Donald Sutherland’s son asked the driver to pull over and let him out, the driver wouldn’t, and after the third request, Sutherland threatened to kill him if he didn’t do as he asked. The driver phoned 911 for assistance, and requested a translator when the police showed up. The police then requested a Russian or Armenian-speaking translator.
I virtually never return Christmas gifts. I cannot remember the last time I did. This stems from a Christmas childhood trauma. My poor father, who loved my mother dearly, would always pick out for her major Christmas gift a robe, a night gown, a blouse or dress that either didn’t fit, that was identical to one she already had, or that she hated. My mother, for all her wonderful traits, never gave him a break either: she would open the gift and immediately register disappointment. And Dad was always crushed. It got so he would make a joke about it, handing over a package he had lovingly wrapped while saying, “Well, Merry Christmas, let’s see what’s wrong with this.”
As a result, I have never reacted with anything but unalloyed joy when someone gives me a gift. Whatever it is, I love it. It could be chocolate-covered ape placenta, and I will still say, “Oh, this is wonderful! I’ve always wanted to try it!”
Nevertheless, the current practice among retail stores to charge “return fees,” some as high as $9.00 per item, is despicable as well as dumb. If stores want to drive people to Amazon, that’s the way to do it. If I ever did have to return a gift, and I won’t, especially now that there is almost nobody who is likely to give me one since my son/daughter has “cancelled” me for some reason, a store charging me for the privilege would land on my blacklist forever. It is also not consistent with the spirit of the season: I bet Kris Kringle would never let Mr. Macy do that without earning a cane to the noggin.
[Johnny Mathisfinally announced his retirement this year—he’s only 90. His has been one of the most recognizable, enjoyable, seductive voices in American popular music for almost 70 years. My college room mate always had his records on hand to create the proper mood for his dates. An old time crooner’s chances of being remembered rests now on whether there is a Christmas standard he can be associated with. Johnny’s best shots are “It’s Beginning to Lot Like Christmas,” and “We Need a Little Christmas” from “Mame.” He sings all the others beautifully too, but they are taken.]
I was informed by a fellow Christmas movie fan that it is almost impossible to watch the original “Miracle on 34th Street” film on streaming services or the networks. They prefer to show the various remakes, all inferior in every way. What made director-writer George Seaton‘s movie (it won him an Oscar) so superb in addition to the casting, his straight-forward style and his obvious love of Christmas is that it instantly felt perfect despite its many suspension of disbelief challenges. Why do they feel this film has to be remade? Is it the lack of color? (“Miracle on 34th Street” was one of the first movies Ted Turner colorizes, and that version is unwatchable.)
As I’ve stated here before I believed in Santa Claus until I was 12. I didn’t want to give the fantasy up: I loved magic, and my parents always tried to make the season magical. My late wife Grace and I tried to do the same with Grant, now “Samantha,” but he was a non-believer by the third grade. Is there anything more joyful to see than the look on a child’s face as he or she wakes up to find what Santa has delivered? Will anything feel that wonderful again?
“Miracle on 34th Street” is an ethics movie in many ways. The movie is about the importance of believing in good things, hopeful things, even impossible things. The movie reminds us that wonderful things can happen even when they seem impossible, and that life is better when we believe that every day of our lives. I’m engaged in that right now: all of 2025 has required it. I’ve had serious injuries, successes, new projects and setbacks. My father taught me to be ready for the worst but to never to give up on the best.
One thing this film does well is to concentrate on the secular holiday without any allusions to the religious holy day, but not being obnoxious about it. “It’s a Wonderful Life” also straddles the line very cleverly: it begins in heaven, after all. All the “A Christmas Carol” films include Bob Cratchit telling his wife that Tiny Tim mused about how his disability reminded people of Jesus’s miracles at Christmastime, and that’s Dickens’ only reference to Jesus in his story.
On the offensive side is the Rankin-Bass animated “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”—I can’t believe they still show that thing—when the “stormy Christmas Eve” causes Santa to decide to “cancel Christmas.” I’d say that’s above Santa’s pay grade, wouldn’t you agree? It also suggests that Christmas is only about gifts and children. (Do parents today explain that the singing snowman who narrates the story is based on, and looks like) the real person who also sings the most memorable songs? They should. Burl Ives had a fascinating life and a varied career, and those kids will probably be hearing him sing “Have a Holly Jolly Christmas” for the rest of theirs.
Interestingly, all of the perennial Christmas movies have been made into stage musicals of varying success—“White Christmas,” “It’s a Wonderful Life,” “A Christmas Story,” “Elf”—- but “Miracle on 34th Street” flopped so badly when Meredith Willson [“The Music Man”] adapted it as “Here’s Love” on Broadway that nobody has tried again. The show included the song, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas,” which Willson wrote long before the show was assembled. But as with all the movie remakes, the show missed Edmund Gwynn, the best Kris Kringle of them all. He was a distinguished classical actor until that movie: he complained that after the film he wasn’t allowed to get rid of his bushy white beard and was type-cast as jolly old men.
I decided to post the Companion earlier this year; I also was moved by the fact that a number of EA readers had sought out the 2024 version today. When I’ve posted it on Christmas Eve, it has lacked views for the obvious reasons.
The 2025 companion reflects some additional thoughts upon my re-watching “Miracle on 34th Street” last week—I even took notes. Mostly, I though about how important the holiday, the stories, the music, the movies and what they signify taken as a whole is to our nation, our society and our culture. Thus it was that I decided that here was a good place to re-post “Christmas, the Ethical Holiday” Besides, I need to read it myself.
Christmas: the Ethical Holiday
Benjamin Franklin recognized the importance of regularly focusing one’s attention on ethical conduct rather than the usual non-ethical goals, needs, desires and impulses that usually occupy the thoughts of even the most virtuous among us. He suggested that every morning an individual should challenge himself to do good during the day. In the 21st century psychologists call this “priming,” a form of beneficial self-brain-washing that plants the seeds of future choices.
The Christmas season operates as an effective form of mass population priming, using tradition, lore, music, poetry, ritual, literature, art and entertainment to celebrate basic ethical virtues and exemplary conduct toward other human beings. Kindness, love, forgiveness, empathy, generosity, charity, sacrifice, selflessness, respect, caring, peacefulness…all of these are part of the message of Christmas, which has become more universal and influential in its societal and behavioral importance than its religious origins could have ever accomplished alone. Secular and cultural contributions have greatly strengthened the ethical lessons of Christmas. “It’s A Wonderful Life” urges us to value our ability to enrich the lives of others, and to appreciate the way they enrich ours. “A Christmas Story” reminds us to make childhood a magical time when wishes can come true. O. Henry’s story “The Gift of the Magi” proves that it is not the value of gifts, but the love that motivates them that truly matters. Most powerful of all, Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” teaches that the admirable conduct the spirit of the season can inspire need not be short-lived, and that if we use Christmas properly, as Ben Franklin used his morning exhortation to good conduct, it can make all of us better, happier, more virtuous human beings.
At this point in civilization, the religious context of Christmas almost does more harm than good. Though the day chosen to celebrate Jesus of Nazareth’s birthday has been spectacularly successful in promoting the ethical and moral ideals he taught, the idea that Christmas is indistinguishable from the religion he founded has made it the object of yearly controversy, as if celebrating Christmas is an affront to other faiths.
This is a tragedy, because every human being, regardless of religious belief, can benefit from a culture-wide exhortation to be good and to do good. “Happy Holidays!”—the bland, generic, careful greeting of those afraid to offend those who should not be offended—does nothing to spur us toward love, kindness, peace and empathy. “Merry Christmas!” does.
This is not just a religious holiday; it is the culture-wide ethical holiday, the time when everything should be aligned to remind us to take stock of our lives, think about everyone else who lives on earth with us, and to try to live for others as well as ourselves. Christians should be proud that their religion gave such a valuable gift to humanity, and non-Christians should be eager to accept that gift, with thanks.
It is foolish and self-destructive for there to be a “war on Christmas.” Charles Dickens understood. There is hardly a word about religion anywhere in his story. There doesn’t need to be. Christmas is the ethical holiday. Christians and non-Christians can celebrate it or not as they choose, but whether they do or not, the Christmas season is more important than any one religion, even the one that gives the holiday its name.
Christmas is important because it primes us to be good, be better, be more ethical, for the rest of the year. There should be nothing controversial about that.
I got fired again yesterday. Sometime I need to go back through my memory banks and figure out how many times this has happened, but it’s a lot. My proclivity for getting canned was a main motivation for me starting my own business thirty years ago, because I was reasonable certain that I wouldn’t fire myself, and that I could probably talk my late wife, the company’s COO, from doing it.
Technically one could say that my company, ProEthics, was fired, but since I’m the only employee now, that would be nit-picking. This bar association had contracted with me as its primary legal ethics teacher for the entire 30 years, with my handling between three and five three-hour seminars every year, plus the ethics segment in the monthly bar’s orientation session for new bar admittees. Its support was a substantial reason Grace and I were willing to take the plunge as a small business in the first place.
By the time the axe fell, on a Zoom call, naturally, I pretty much knew what was coming. The CLE director, whom I had worked with amicably for ten years, had suddenly stopped responding to my emails until he sent me the dreaded “we need to talk” message last week. There had been no incident, screw-up, failure or apparent precipitating catalyst for the end that I could detect: my participant evaluations have remained in the 4-5 range in all categories on a 1-5 scale for all three decades years. My last seminar, an adaptation of my one-man show about Clarence Darrow with ethics commentary on the issues raised by his career, was especially popular, in great part because of the talented D.C. actor who played Clarence, Steve Lebens. One lawyer rushed up and after the program, grabbed my hand, and said the seminar had changed his whole perspective on practicing law as he choked back tears.
To be honest, the blow yesterday was more sentimental than anything. Dr, Fauci’s stupid Wuhan virus lockdown killed the live seminar part of my business, and it never recovered. I was paid by the head by this bar association as a matter of loyalty and courtesy, and the heads had almost completely disappeared. I used to have 100-150 lawyers in a classroom; for the last few years it’s been less than ten, with maybe 20 more online or zooming, sometimes a few more. Lawyers don’t like mandatory CLE, and the lockdown gave them an excuse to use remote technology and videos, meaning that they could be doing billable work or playing with their dogs, with no one the wiser.
Those methods don’t work pedagogically nearly as well as face-to-face training, and everybody knows it; they also do not let me do what I do better than most legal ethics teachers, which is engage and entertain while teaching. Most of my income is from expert consulting now, which I am good at but nowhere near as much fun. This association’s seminars were a loss leader for me by the end.
Still, the “we’ve decided to go in another direction” message was a bit mysterious. I was told by the CLE director that the orders came from “upstairs.” The numbers still said I was their best and most popular ethics teacher: why the new “direction”? I’ve won the bar two national awards for innovative CLE, and do the only musical ethics programs in the field with my long-time collaborator Mike Messer. What’s not to like?
In Great Britain, an A.I. generated image that appeared to show major damage to Carlisle Bridge in Lancaster prompted authorities to halt trains following a minor earthquake. The tremor was felt across Lancashire and the southern Lake District. After the image appeared on-line, Network Rail ended rail service across the bridge until safety inspections had been completed. The delay inconvenienced commuters and wasted public funds. Here is the bridge and the bot-built fake version:
As far as we know a human being was behind the hoax, not a mischievous bot. But A.I. is almost certainly going to challenge Robert Heinlein’s famous declaration that “There are no dangerous weapons; there are only dangerous men,” in addition to the fact that there are also a lot of dangerous women out there too.
ChatGPT has been accused of encouraging people to commit suicide, for example, and Professor Jonathan Turleywrote that ChatGPT defamed him for reasons yet to be determined.
Diego Garcia entered an instructive description of an interaction with a bank on credit card matters that nicely illustrates a theme Ethics Alarms has been commenting on for quite a while. It is not exaggerated, because I have been enmeshed in dozens of these maddening experiences almost every month since my wife died last year. The practices are cruel, frustrating, time-consuming and hostile, and, I am convinced, often intentional. They are the product of multiple unethical conditions and practices, including incompetent management, needless technology complexity, sloth, poor hiring criteria, poor training, the public school system, lack of sufficient emphasis on English proficiency, corporate arrogance, outsourcing of jobs, inadequate staffing, and more. I also believe these systems and the factors creating them cause serious stress-related health problems among the public and even domestic and urban violence as well as mass shootings.
People have been conditioned to just shrug it all off as “how we live now.” We shouldn’t do that.
…I do have a recent BoA experience regarding account setups.
My sister has had a BoA credit card for something like 50 (!) years. She is very much not tech savvy, and is someone who always wants paper statements mailed to her.
On this card, she had made arrangements for her payment to be automatically drafted each month — the payment would be $150 or the statement balance, whichever was smaller. She had made this arrangement by phone as she never had set up an online account for this card. Well, a couple months ago they wrote her to say that they were cancelling this automatic payment and she would have to go online to set it back up.
Today a Facebook friend who is addicted to posting about the most mundane and prosaic matters on her page. Today, the press had to be alerted to this revelation: “For some reason my phone no longer recognizes my thumb-print.” Talk about the problems of the privileged! I’m sure it’s Trump’s fault. She added, “Does anyone else have this problem?”
A comment read: “Yes. My phone doesn’t recognize your thumbprint either.”
I hope, if I had seen the query first, I would have issued the same mandatory response. When Fate, or God, or whoever is in charge of cosmic humor delivers to you through the mouth or text of an agent a slow, hanging curve-ball of a straight-line that begs to be knocked out of the metaphoric ballpark and you let it go by, you have violated a sacred obligation to the human race. It needs as much mirth and merriment as it can get, and if a perfect opportunity to get a laugh like that set-up goes unrealized—because of fear, lack of attention, witlessness or self-absorption—a grievous ethics offense had been committed. Shame. Shame.
Ethics Alarms 