The Autumn of Civilization

Okay, that's an over-the-top title for a blog post, especially for a day when the temperature finally cracked 50 and the women downtown are (I confirmed on my lunchtime stroll) finally showing some leg. But I'm feeling gloomy about two venerable conservative institutions that are fading out faster than Tolkien's elves.

The first is the unreconstructed myth of the 100 Acre Wood: James Lileks, via Instapundit, has the news (emphasis mine):

In any case, Christopher Robin is dead; he perished in 1996. But the idea of Christopher Robin is dead as well; the very notion of a thin little English boy as a relevant instructive model is old-fashioned, and you might be pleased to learn he has been replaced. This year the new Pooh series will introduce a six-year old girl in Christopher’s stead. I’m sure she’s spunky and adventurous and kind and empowered, and I’m just as sure my daughter will find her boring, because kids can smell pedantic condescending twaddle nine miles off. (It’s one of the reasons many girls love Arthur – his little sister is sixty-five pounds of smart, devious, narcissistic, naughty sass.) Here’s the part that makes me truly sad:

The little girl wears a bike helmet.

Words fail to express my disappointment with this choice by the folks at Disney. For years my daughter has adored Pooh and company, never stopping for a second to consider why her gender wasn't "represented". While the Milne estate almost certainly has zero legal influence on the matter, I sincerely hope his living heirs issue a stiffly worded statement. Only for the sake of the children will I not be feeding our family's Disney DVD collection, one by one, into the shredder. I'd like to think that Steve Jobs is enough of a brilliant businessman to curtail this, but he is a gibbering hippie on social issues, after all.

The second news item for which conservatives should mourn is the passing of an un-elected House of Lords in the British Parliament - the rough equivalent of the American Senate. They were usually white and older than Methuselah, and prone to wearing outrageously camp wigs - but they were also unpaid and elected for life - indifferent to the winds of political fancy. (There's a great, unlinkable piece in today's WSJ.) The British have always had some direct representation in the prime minister and the House of Commons, but the Lords were the last vestige tail of gnarly old autocracy at it's finest.

Now the flailing, ignorant masses have been given complete reign over the instruments of power, and all I can do is sit back here on the Spacetropic estate, and raise a glass of Speyside Single Malt to times gone by, and to old, once-upon-a-time Christopher Robin.