We Now Know Scientific Pronouncements Are Frequently Garbage, So We Also Should Know “The ’60s Parenting Practices We Now Know Were Terrible For Kids’ Brains” Is Mostly Crap…

Being raised in the Sixties, I was naturally curious about the article in Media Feed titled “The ’60s parenting practices we now know were terrible for kids’ brains.” What I discovered, as one usually will with social science essays with an agenda, is carefully cherry-picked research being used to support an author’s already pre-determined position. You know, “Science!”

“Science” has been so thoroughly polluted by the political left to justify its objectives and claim absolute authority for propositions that are far from determined (or determinable) that the public should be conditioned to doubt any claim that begins, as this one does, “This article explores a dozen once-standard practices and uses modern research to explain why they were tough on a child’s developing brain, emotional health, and long-term well-being.” Here is what modern research as revealed in recent years: it can’t be trusted. It can’t be trusted because researchers and scientists can’t be trusted, and interlocutors like Kaitlyn Farley, the gullible (or dishonest) author, don’t know enough about science to interpret studies with appropriate skepticism. (I just checked: Kaitlyn claims to be, among other things, an AI trainer who specializes in “content creation.” That explains a lot about the article.)

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Post Thanksgiving Open Forum [Corrected]

I’d be interested in anyone’s anecdotes from yesterday about their confrontations over dinner with family on political matters. At the (fantastic) Shirlington Dog Park in Arlington, VA, I chatted with a freind with whom I have never discussed politics (and never will), who said she was spending the holiday alone because she wasn’t speaking to any of her relatives. They feel, she said with a voice dripping with contempt, that “the public should respect an elected President even if he did probably rape a 14-year-old.” Hey! Look at that beautiful Vizsla!

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The Ethics Alarms 2025 “It’s A Wonderful Life” Ethics Companion

2025 INTRODUCTION

Once again, the annual Ethics Alarms posting of my guide to watching the 1946 classic is in Thanksgiving week, first, because I concluded a few years ago that it is a Thanksgiving movie, and second, because I personally need the movie right now. It’s a Thanksgiving movie because a man learns through divinely orchestrated perspective that he has a lot to be thankful for, even if it often hasn’t seemed like it in his life of disappointments and dashed dreams. He’s married to Donna Reed, for heaven’s sake! He has nothimg to complain about.

I just finished re-reading last year’s version and making some additions and subtractions. You know what? It’s worth reading again. I wrote the thing, and I still get a lot out of it.

Last year was a particularly gloomy one for me, and I’m afraid my annual introduction reflected that. It was hard for me to even watch “It’s a Wonderful Life,” which was my late wife’s favorite movie (well, tied with “Gone With the Wind” and “To Kill a Mockingbird”) last year, and, though I have had 364 days more to get used to existence with out her, I’m more resigned than better.

This year, in September, I had an “IAWL” moment when a lawyer whom I had only known for a few days pulled me aside at a gala celebration of the 52nd year of continuous operation of a student theater group I had founded my first year in law school. He said that his two young children, who I could see playing in the courtyard, wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t started the organization  where he met his wife, and he wanted to thank me.

The reunion of lawyers who  participated in the over 150 plays, musicals and operettas produced by the group revealed that dozens of lasting marriages and their children had been an unanticipated result of the unique organization, the only graduate school theatrical group in the U.S. “Strange, isn’t it?,” Clarence says to George as the metaphorical light finally dawns. “Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”

I’m not celebrating Thanksgiving this year for too many reasons to go into, but I guess I’m thankful that I’m here instead of a hole. It’s a lowly measure of success, but I’ll take it.

Grace so loved the final scene when Harry Bailey toasts, “To my big brother George, the luckiest man on earth!” and everyone starts singing  “Auld Lang Syne.” She always started crying, and, to be honest, I think I’ll skip that part this year. When I watched it last year, it almost killed me. 

Besides, Billy Crystal (actually Nora Ephron, who wrote his lines) pretty much ruined “Auld Lang Syne” for me with his observations in “When Harry Met Sally.” The song really doesn’t make any sense, it just feels right. One might say the same thing about “It’s A Wonderful Life.”

I won’t, however.

PREFACE

Frank Capra must have felt that the movie was bitterly ironic. It was a flop, and destroyed his infant project with some other prominent directors to launch a production company called “Liberty” that would give directors the liberty to put their artistic visions on the screen without interference from the money-obsessed studios. “It’s A Wonderful Life” was the first and last film produced by Liberty Studios: it not only killed the partnership, it just about ended Capra’s career.

James Stewart was, by all accounts, miserable during the shooting. He suffered from PTSD after his extensive combat experience, and the stress he was under shows in many of the scenes, perhaps to the benefit of the film.

It is interesting that the movie is scored by Dmitri Tiompkin, a Russian expatriate who is best known for scoring Westerns like “Red River” and “High Noon.” He wasn’t exactly an expert on small town America, but his trademark, using familiar tunes and folk melodies, is on full display. Clarence, George’s Guardian Angel (Second Class), is frequently underscored with the nursery rhyme “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” because he is represented by a star in the opening scene in Heaven. The old bawdy tune “Buffalo Girls” is another recurring theme, an odd one for a wholesome film, since the buffalo girls were prostitutes.

Donna Reed is a revelation in the film. She is best remembered as the wise and loving Fifties mom in “The Donna Reed Show” (in the brilliant satiric musical “Little Shop of Horrors,” doomed heroine Audrey singing about her dream of domestic bliss “somewhere that’s green” sings “I cook like Betty Crocker and I look like Donna Reed.”) But she was an excellent dramatic actress, and Hollywood did not do her talents justice. She was also, I am told by my freind and hero Paul Peterson who played her young son Jeff, as nice and admirable in person as she seemed on the show.

Lionel Barrymore, once described by a critic as an actor who could overact just by sitting still, is nonetheless a memorable villain. It was no coincidence that he was known at holiday time for playing Scrooge in an annual radio prouduction of “A Christmas Carol.” Barrymore was an alcoholic like his two siblings, John and Ethel, both regarded more highly as actors but less able to work reliably through their addiction. Lionel was in a wheelchair for his latter career; he wouldn’t have been if he had been born a few decades later. He needed hip replacements and those weren’t possible for his generation. As a result, he is the only memorable wheelchair-bound film actor of note.

Thomas Mitchell, George’s pathetic Uncle Billy, was one of the greatest Hollywood character actors of his or any other era. He is memorable in many classics, including “High Noon,” “Gone With the Wind,” “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” “Stagecoach” and more, while also starring in several successful Broadway plays.  On stage he created the role of the rumpled detective “Columbo,” his final role.

The cop and the cab driver, Bert and Ernie (names borrowed by “Sesame Street” in a strange inside joke) were played by Ward Bond, another prolific character actor who shows up in key roles in too many great movies to list, and  Frank Faylen, who made over 200 movies with IAWL being the only certified classic. Both Bond and Faylen found their greatest success on TV, Bond as the cantankerous wagonmaster and star of “Wagon Train” and Faylen as the apoplectic father of highschooler Dobie Gillis in “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.” I don’t think any character on TV made my father laugh as hard as Faylen’s “Herbert T. Gillis.”

Now that the introductions are over with, let’s go to Bedford Falls…but first, a stop in Heaven…

1. A Religious Movie Where There Is No Religion

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Ethics Dunces: 98 Democratic Party House Members

One would think that a Congressional resolution calling for the condemnation of communism and socialism would be an easy one to vote for, but one would be wrong. Rep. María Elvira Salazar (R-Fla.), the daughter of Cuban refugees, introduced a non-binding resolution to Congress this past week called “Denouncing the horrors of socialism.” Most of the historical villains referenced in the resolution —Vladimir Lenin, Joseph Stalin, Mao Zedong, Fidel Castro, Pol Pot, Kim Jong Il, Kim Jong Un, Daniel Ortega, Hugo Chavez, and Nicolás Maduro—were Communists. Nevertheless, not only did 100 members of the Democratic Party vote against a statement of principles that flows directly from our founding documents and core values (Jefferson wrote, “To take from one, because it is thought that his own industry and that of his fathers has acquired too much, in order to spare to others, who, or whose fathers have not exercised equal industry and skill, is to violate arbitrarily the first principle of association, the guarantee to every one of a free exercise of his industry, and the fruits acquired by it,” and Madison added that it “is not a just government, nor is property secure under it, where the property which a man has in his personal safety and personal liberty, is violated by arbitrary seizures of one class of citizens for the service of the rest…), they were confident enough of the effectiveness their party’s pro-socialist propaganda to go on the record as opposing that statement. All the worst villains are there: the “Squad,” Pelosi, Jaimie Raskin, Maxine Waters.

The number of Democrats unwilling to condemn socialism, and therefore its nasty offspring communism, was even more damning: in addition to the 98 naysayers, two Democrats voted “present” and 47 weenies refuse to vote at all.

Democrats are now telling us exactly who they are and what their agenda is.

November 22, 1963

Sixty-two years ago I was up unusually late in my Arlington, Massachusetts home as my parents, my younger sister and I watched the coverage of that day’s nation-shattering event, the assassination, in Dallas, of President John F. Kennedy.

Like everyone else in my generation, much of that day is vivid in my memory, literally as if it were yesterday. My friend Paul Connolly and I were were walking home a little after 3:00 from Junior High West when Charlene Lamberis, a classmate, shouted out of her mother’s car as they passed us on the street, “The President has been shot! The President has been shot!” I had recently lost the election for president of the 8th grade, so my mind was still on my rival. I turned to Paul and said, “Who would want to shoot Marty Toczylowski?” (Marty is alive, well, and thriving today as an executive recruiter. I just checked.) Paul set me straight on what Charlene was referring to, and he pulled out his transistor radio. Soon a solemn voice announced that the President of the United States was dead, and that they would return to the station’s regular programming, whereupon wildly cheerful country fiddle music took over. It was so inappropriate we both couldn’t help laughing.

My friend came home with me and joined my mother, who was already in front of our old Capehart black-and-white TV console. TV news had never covered anything this important; all three networks and PBS were hustling trying to find new angles, scoops and people to interview. I’ll never forget that Paul, who was a brilliant kid, turned to me and said, with his face like a death mask, “Richard Nixon will be the next President.” It took five years and many twists and turns including a self-mocking cameo on “Rowen and Martin’s Laugh-in” (“Sock it to me?”), but Tricky Dick indeed was indeed the next President after Lyndon Johnson, sworn in as POTUS that day.

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The Obligatory Joke Principle

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.

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Elon Musk: “Delusional,” Huckster, or Credible Dreamer?

A twitter user I have never heard of (but who somehow has amassed over half a million followers posted that tweet above with the comment, “I don’t understand why people continue investing in a company whose CEO is self-evidently delusional and whose plans for the business have no basis in reality.” Another user quickly pointed out that the eccentric billionaire entrepreneur “reduced the cost of launch to orbit by ~90%, mainstreamed electric cars, and gave a paralyzed man the ability to control a computer with his mind.” Yes, that’s a complete rebuttal to the “influencer’s” snark. Why do investors trust Musk? Because he’s an out-of-the-box thinker with the resources to make impossible-seeming ideas reality, and has a track record that says, “Don’t bet against him.”

Regular readers here know that I detest John Lennon’s anthem for idiots, “Imagine.” John identifies himself as a “dreamer,” which he rationalizes “Everybody does it” style: He’s not the only one who thinks we can achieve his juvenile version of utopia (“Nothing to live or die for…”). But John was a minimally educated lifetime musician and poet: like the Everly Brothers, all he could do was dream (and they were silly dreams anyway). Elon Musk has shown that he is capable of making some previously impossible dreams possible. That deserves awe and respect.

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Some Answers To Gail Collins’ Question: “Where, oh Where, Will the First Female President Come From?”

Gail Collins is one of the New York Times’ chatty and less extreme progressive columnists, which is not to say that her bias doesn’t leap from the page at regular intervals. Her latest effort is “Where, oh Where, Will the First Female President Come From?” (gift link). The sudden interest in this on-its-face sexist query comes from two likely sources: Michelle Obama’s offensive accusation (but she just doesn’t like the United States very much and has been saying so in various ways since she was in college) that the public isn’t “ready” for a female President, and the moronic DNC cant that the only reason Kamala Harris lost (after the worst Presidential campaign ever!) was that she was sort-of black and/or female, take your pick.

The United States doesn’t need a female President, or a male President, or a black President, or a white President, or a gay President, or a short President. The United States needs a competent, ethical courageous and effective President, and what EEOC category or categories that leader fits into should be irrelevant. Now, I have spent decades studying where Presidents come from, and it is true that a lot of the features and backgrounds that seem to create the weird types that tend to become POTUS do not help the chances of aspiring female Presidents, and it will take a remarkable, unusual woman to overcome the template. (But Presidents should be remarkable, shouldn’t they?)

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President Trump Morphs into George McGovern! Didn’t See THAT Coming!

In 1972, on the way to an epic trouncing by Richard Nixon in that year’s Presidential race, nice, clueless, ultra-liberal Sen. George McGovern’s flower child-fueled campaign was roundly mocked for a proposal to give a thousand dollars to every man, woman and child. This was called the ultimate nanny state hand-out plan, among the more polite criticisms of it. Now President Donald Trump, hardly one for tie-dyed shirts, says he wants to give most Americans a $2,000 handout funded from tariffs.

“A dividend of at least $2000 a person (not including high income people!) will be paid to everyone,” the President wrote last week in a Truth Social post. U.S. Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent told Fox News that the rebates would likely be given to families making “less than, say, $100,000.”  They might get a puppy and candy too.

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Once Again, An AI Bot Doesn’t Know What It’s Talking About, This Time Regarding U.S. Presidents

I wish Ann Althouse would stop publishing her conversations with Grok, Elon Musk’s chatbot. Is she on Elon’s payroll? Yesterday, the quirky retired progressive law prof turned blogger was writing about the Netflix series “Death by Lightning” based on the excellent  “Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President,” which EA discussed several years ago. (The books main character, James Garfield, is one of my favorite Presidents, as is the man who succeeded him after he was assassinated, his VP Chester A. Arthur.)

Noting that Garfield was a reluctant Presidential nominee, Ann decided to once again ask Grok’s opinion, as she has been doing almost daily for months now. “I’m interested in the Presidents who have not wanted to be President, who have felt bad about winning. I asked Grok to list them in the order of how much they did not want to have to do it.” Well, I wouldn’t have had to ask that, and Althouse, by publishing Grok’s ill-informed and sloppily reasoned answer, has made her readers less informed than they already are. Here was Grok’s terrible answer:

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