I walked into the NJ Peace Action annual dinner, a notebook in my hand, my head full of activism. I wanted to talk about the things I’ve noticed in America. “I’m a trained cultural theorist,” I boasted to my own mind. “I have important analyses to offer.”
It’s true; I do, as do some of the people I met there. The discussion at my table was lively. We talked about the US culture of war. We shared video clips on our camcorders and our iPhones. We ate our salmon, or chicken, or ratatouille. We listened to folk music. I felt righteous. I felt like I knew what was up. I’m no fool, I thought. I’m one of the good people.
Then Phil Donahue spoke.