Big Man Politics

Evolutionary psychology, despite getting its hand seriously burned in its overreaching attempt to explain too much of what human beings do and are, has an interesting series of just-so stories, some of which sound plausible enough to bear repeating.

One of those stories is called Big Man Politics. Robert Wright covered this theory extensively in his underappreciated book, The Moral Animal. It's the most primitive form of politics we have: our tribe is centered around a Big Man, the silverback, who we worship and admire. Because the tribal world is brutal and nasty and lives are short, we don't go looking for alternatives: to do so would be admitting that we don't want to be part of the Big Man's tribe, no matter how bad living under him is, because to do so would bring down the wrath of his loyalists.

Eventually, goes the popular story, the Big Man evolved in two directions: upward, into more distant forms of godhood, and downward, distributed among a bureacracy as the interaction of economics, agricultural traditions, and population growth led to civilization (in its most literal term; the root term for civilization is "civis," or city, and the best definition for civilization I've ever heard was "a framework for living among people whose names you do not know." See Monkeysphere).

I was reminded of Big Man theory twice today. John Hindraker, the owner/operator of the far-right-wing blog Powerline, once wrote that George Bush was "a great communicator," and that listening to him speak was "an absolutely riveting experience" and "the most inspiring forty minutes I've experienced in politics," called Barack Obama "the most gaffe-ridden politician in recent memory."

Radley Balko calls this "out of the Rovian playbook," but I think it's less than that. Hindraker is not a man of deep intellectual capacity and is swayed by power politics (I suspect the "powerline" is a leash attached to his cockring), and this is just raw big man power politics at its finest. His tribe is in the lead, so he's happy, and he has to do what he can to denigrate the other tribe.

Reports are now filtering in on the way the Clintonites are planning on destroying the Democratic party, and they're playing Big Man politics to the hilt. This woman will vote for McCain, as will this woman, if Hillary doesn't get the nomination. And I don't think it's out of spite. I think it's out of a deep-seated, desperately fed belief that only Hillary can beat McCain. And since Hillary isn't going to be allowed to beat McCain, they want to be able to say: I belong to the tribe in power. That's it. Even if the tribe in power is (according to Kos) "an exclusive club of racist, union-busting, woman-suppressing, bedroom-peering, rights-scoffing, warmongering, torture-backing, buccaneering, global warming-denying, privatizing, public land-grabbing, Supreme Court stuffing, empire-building, Constitution-shredding raptors" rather than the man who's policy objectives are almost exactly like Hillary's.

It's the voting for a "woman-supressing party" part that surprises the Hell out of me; it must be a very deep instinct to side with the perceived "powers that be" that overrides one's own self-interest so vociferously.

Saturday evening: Bill & Dori's Handfasting

Saturday after finishing the Monkey Bars project was just as involved.

Bill and Dori's Handfasting

At 4:30 we resolved to go to the handfasting ceremony of two friends of ours, so we all piled into the car and drove out to the Longhouse. When we got there, dinner was just winding down by my friend kaelisinger pointed us to where there were a few burgers left. Kouryou-chan and I grabbed a pair, and then we hung around, talking to lots of the people we knew in the pagan community, making nice where making nice was needed, and generally having a good time. We should have brought marshmallows for the fire.

The ceremony itself was lovely, and afterward we had cake (mmm, carrot cake. Have I mentioned that I love carrot cake? I think I have) and sat around the table listening to the bardic circle. Kaelie begged off; she looked tired and a bit lonely, I think she would rather have been at the SCA Junefair event instead but she had promised to be there. We got home around 11:00pm.

Sunday: Catching up with life.

Sunday was catch-up. I must have slept twenty hours in the past two nights, much more than usual. Omaha's been in a bit of a cranky mood, mostly because her busted mouth hurts her since she had a seziure earlier in the week, so I'm glad to be sleeping in.

She made breakfast for four: the deal was we'd feed lisakit if she'd watch over Kouryou-chan (hopefully not too hard after the neighborhood kids got back from church) and we'd run the monthly shopping for both her and us at Costco, the local warehouse store. I dropped Omaha off and ran over to a restaurant package outlet for flavored syrups for the kids' sodas (Davinci brand, real sugar, no caffeine, no phosphorus, no crud) and to the pet store for other bulk supplies.

We got home and dumped off everything, giving Lisa her supplies. She almost drove off with Omaha's menstrual pads. "What were you thinking?" Omaha said. "Well, I thought they were hers. They're, you know, girly things. She's a girl."

After an hour or so, I gave Omaha a ride to her bi-weekly D&D game. Kouryou-chan played outside while I took a little nap, then woke up and made dinner. For two people, I used five pots and pans, the outdoor grill, three bowls, three liquid measures, two solid measures, the cheese grater... oy. But when I was done I had home-made macaroni & cheese in ramikins for Kouryou-chan, and for me I had a 12oz NY strip steak sous vide seared on the grill, the perfect baked potato, and broccoli with cheese sauce. Mix that with a shandy (half lemonade, half Belgian wheat beer... New Belgian "Skinny Dip", pretty damn good beer this way) and life was perfect. Kouryou-chan made 'Moo!' sounds every time I stabbed the poor thing.

Cats is stoopid.

So, picture this: I'm doing one of my physical therapy exercises to keep my knees in good shape. I recently added a half pound to the weights on my ankles, as instructed. I'm doing a backbridge: shoulders and feet on the floor, I lift my hips until thighs and abdomen make a flat plane, then alternately lift one leg into the air and hold it, tensing the outer muscles of my hip to pull it up. I've done this for two reps of thirty seconds each, and on the third rep, I lift my foot into the air...

... and the cat walks in and stops underneath me. Then she sits down. And starts grooming. She ignores me as I try and convince her to move.

I finally had to push myself over as far away as I could so I wouldn't fall on her. Stoopid cat.