Battle of the Milk Metaphor

Yesterday Andrew Klavan, on his show, opened with The Big Idea that ceremony, show, and story have an effect on people. He starts with a definition of idolatry, which I thought was valuable in and of itself, so I’m going to lay it out the way he does:

Andrew Klavan, screenshot from here

[Los Angeles] is a town where some soulless Handsome Dan actor, who’s never done a d—n thing for anyone can make $250,000 a week by pretending to be a policeman on TV, while a real policeman not only makes considerably less money; he also gets insulted and criticized by the same idiot journalists who treat the actor like he’s some kind of hero.

Now, in Religion-land, we have a word for this. It’s called idolatry. Idolatry is when you mistake the representation of something for the thing itself. You worship the idol instead of the god the idol represents. Or you respect money more than you respect the work that goes into making money. Or you rank sex as higher than the love it’s meant to express.

There’s a reason, he says, that “God forbids us from making graven images of Him somewhere up near the top of the Ten Commandments.” Then there’s this important point for today’s world:

Breaking idols and keeping track of the true values they’re supposed to represent are necessary tools for staying sane and decent in a corrupt world. And they’re talents that come in especially handy when following politics.

But, then, is there value in stories—portrayals, rather than the actual thing itself? He’s a storyteller, so you’d have to guess the answer in yes. And he cites Shakespeare for support, before making the connection to today’s politics.

There’s no sense pretending that show and drama and symbols don’t affect the human mind—because we are natural idolators. Because our minds perceive truth through metaphor and storytelling, and what Shakespeare called ceremony. We have to pay close attention to the narratives that are being set before us to make sure they either tell us the truth or we learn to detect the truth in them.

Which brings me to the impeachment trial. There is simply no question that the impeachment trial going on right now is a show. It’s all a show. It’s meant to be a show.

No one thinks it’s going to have any real life effect. No one thinks it’s going to end with Trump leaving office. No one expects there’ll even be any new information that comes out of it. It’s meant to communicate messages to you, political messages designed to affect your mind and your vote in the 2020 election.

The insights we need to bring to bear on this spectacle are not legal insights, or really even political insights; they’re critical insights, the insights of an art critic, who can see what the performers are trying to communicate and cut through that to something resembling the truth.

He plays a news teaser about the impeachment trial—the drama, the import! It’s pretty over-the-top, and clearly a show.

Then Klavan points out that Adam Schiff is, in his opinion, a rather talented storyteller. He is portraying a message—that the president cannot be trusted, because of the corrupt bribery and collusion he has engaged in. Except, that, of course, the actual articles of impeachment accuse the president of no broken laws whatsoever, but you must ignore that and just listen to the story he’s telling.

Adam Schiff meme from here

A while back I watched a body language interpretation of Schiff. She found that he’s a pretty  comfortable liar: “He enjoys the deception of what he does.” It’s sadistic, and he uses sarcasm as a cover.

It is all for effect; truth has nothing to do with what he’s doing. This is his show. And reports of him talking yesterday in the opening to the Senate hearings seem to reveal that being on stage—putting on the show—is being in his element.

So, as Klavan says, we need to have “the critical insights of an art critic, who can see what the performers are trying to communicate and cut through that to something resembling the truth.”

That’s a challenge. I have some skill in literary analysis; I was an English major. And I know that, when I read a piece of literature, I often see different things than what others see. I have a pretty simple method I take students through to get at what the author is trying to say. And once you’ve done that, you can decide whether that was a point worth making—whether it’s “true” in the larger sense that fiction can be even when the people and their lives are imaginary.

Schiff is telling a story that is not only fiction; it is untrue.

Klavan included metaphor in his discussion, so I’m going to look at one today, and further it to make it actually apply. This is something I saw posted on Facebook. I haven’t interacted with the writer since the Kavanaugh hearings at which time she relentlessly insisted Kavanaugh ought to want to be investigated. She totally lost me when she claimed her husband (a decent family man with a record cleaner even than Kavanaugh’s) thought he himself should want to be investigated, not to clear his name, but in case there was a case or two of attempted rape he had forgotten about from his youth.

I have nothing to discuss with such a person. But, for some reason, yesterday Facebook’s all-knowing algorithm thought I would relate to this post. I could have just scrolled past; in fact I did. But I am including it here so we can look at how the opposition sees this show (without identifying the writer, because I don’t want to further embarrass her by name). I’m calling this the Battle of the Milk metaphor:

Ok guys. I’ve got 4 kids.

Awhile back I was making them breakfast shakes. They asked what kind of milk I used. I said regular. (We were out of coconut almond milk.) 3 out of 4 (bless that baby😇) didn’t believe me. They were sure they tasted coconut, and they were ready to fight me on it.

At this point, do I:

A. Open the fridge to show them we only have regular milk?

2. Tell them to call their dad who saw me making them so he could vouch for me?

Or D. Refuse to show proof and then pit them against each other in an all out battle over milk?

C’mon guys! You OPEN THE FRIDGE. When you’re telling the truth and you have nothing to hide, and you can unite your family behind truth, you. open. the. fridge.

The Senate trial is underway, and nearly 3 out of 4 Americans want to hear from firsthand witnesses. Why wouldn’t the White House and Senate together want to honor that desire, unite the country behind truth, and allow witnesses to testify?

I think it’s because there’s coconut almond milk in the fridge. #openthefridge #Americaneedsamom #mom4president

No child was harmed in the making of this smoothie illustration.

She got a number of reposts, thumbs up, and congratulations for this, um, brilliant metaphor. Let me just say something about metaphors: they all break down at some point; otherwise they’d be the actual thing, rather than a metaphor for the thing. But when you’re using a metaphor, it ought to be applicable to the actual situation. Otherwise, don’t try this at home. (Or online.)

I’m assuming the mis-numbering (A, 2., D) is intended for humor, so let that go. We’ll just go over the flaw in the Battle of the Milk metaphor for the Senate impeachment hearings.

What do you do? “You. Open. The. Fridge.” So, in the impeachment story, that means revealing the transcript of the infamous phonecall on the very day of the accusation. Trump opened the fridge.

“When you’re telling the truth and you have nothing to hide, and you can unite” everyone when they see they truth, you show it to them. End of subject. Argument over.

Except…  we’re dealing with Democrats. Dems with Trump Derangement Syndrome, which is apparently a real malady.

What do the Dem kids do instead of admitting the argument is settled? Here’s my version of the rest of the Battle metaphor:

“Well, I heard Johnny say he thought there was a definite coconut, or possibly almond, taste in the smoothie.”

“And I heard Suzie say that she heard an unnamed source say he or she had heard Johnny say there was a definite coconut and/or almond taste in the smoothie.”

“And now that we’ve had others point out that they tasted that hint of coconut, or possibly almond, we believe there is indeed a taste of coconut almond in the smoothie.”

“And, you know, sometimes hearsay is better than actual evidence.”

“So you, Mom, have to prove not only that you never put coconut almond milk in the smoothie—even though we know you did, because you’re a liar, liar pants-on-fire kind of mom—you have to prove that you never intended to ever put coconut almond milk in any smoothie, because if you did, then we know you put coconut almond milk in this one.”

“It’s not good enough that you show us there’s only regular milk in the fridge now. You might have used up the last of the coconut almond milk in this very smoothie—which popular opinion of those-not-around-when-you-made-it shows has a taste of coconut, or possibly almond.”

“Show us the garbage to prove there’s no evidence of coconut almond milk being recently used.”

“And show us exactly when the last coconut almond container was placed in the garbage. We need a record.”

“And, even then, how do we know you didn’t put it in the neighbor’s garbage to hide the evidence from us? Huh? Answer that!”

“Also, you have to show us your grocery receipts for the past six months. Because, if you don’t, that’s a sign that you’re hiding something.”

“No, you can’t have Dad tell us what he saw, just because he watched you making the smoothie; he’s in collusion with you. He has condoned having coconut almond milk in this house in the past, so he can’t be trusted. The only witnesses that can be allowed are those of us who either tasted what we think is coconut or almond in the smoothie, or those who have heard others say they may have tasted coconut and/or almond in the smoothie, or those who can testify that they’ve ever talked with you about the possible intention of using coconut almond milk in our smoothie.”

“Because, as we all know, and we’ve said above, hearsay can be better than actual witnesses.”

“This is the worst thing a mom has ever done! No mom should be allowed to use coconut almond milk in a child’s smoothie. And claiming that regular milk was used is only evidence of hiding the use of coconut almond milk in the smoothie.”

Etc. Etc. Etc.

Because these are crazy children who are unaware of truth, unaware of evidence, immune to accepting truth or evidence, and are completely unreasonable. Put them down for a nap!

Unfortunately, these ridiculous children are bent on removing Mom from her rightful position. They’re staging a coup. It’s about power. And, while she knows her position (and her probably valid reasons for considering coconut almond milk a valid choice for a smoothie), their relentless, loud uprising is getting in the way of the family’s actual business—of making family life civilized and prosperous for harmonious growth for all.

I’m assuming you can follow the metaphor to the actual situation now. And, even without an actual family of coconut-almond-milk-hating children, the story helps you see the truth.