STFU And Live Your Life

It should be the official motto of the universe.

Photo by Pete Nuij on Unsplash

Trying out a new title. Glad you all are liking this one!

My essay from January 5 about why I talk so much about the new gender movements struck a chord. ​​​(Back in the days of writing for mainstream publications with general audiences, I would have said “touched a nerve,” but in the feedback loop of Substack, we only strike approbatory chords—every post a symphony!) Dozens of people left comments in the thread, and many more messaged me privately to say that they, too, would speak up if not for all of the factors I laid out (jobs, mortgages, not wanting yourself or your family members to become social pariahs). 

As happens nearly every time I write something for this page that people seem to like, I promptly wrote another essay, only to let it sit in my drafts folder for weeks because I felt it wasn’t up to the standard of the last one. I may release that one eventually, but in the meantime I want to talk about an exchange I had last week with a purportedly intelligent person and how it relates to some of what I was getting at in the January 5 essay.

The exchange was with my doctor. Let’s call her Dr. V. She is not my general practitioner, since, as I’ve mentioned on the podcast, I can’t seem to find one of those. She is a specialist I see for preventive care due to family medical history. (I won’t say more than that, because I suspect there aren’t many women in her specialty and I don’t want any of you doxxing her; I know how you are!)

I’ve seen Dr. V for more than a decade and always found her to be affable, attentive, and informed. She’s willing to spend time with her patients, and that includes spending time railing about the health-care system and the viperous labyrinth of managed care and how medicine has become so bureaucratic and unrewarding that no one with half a brain wants to go into it anymore and as a result the profession is flooded with morons. (I’m paraphrasing.)

I love this kind of conversation, so I am always eager to chat with Dr. V. Last week was no exception, and I happily bobbed my head as she tapped on her phone to refill my prescription while ranting about the lack of analytic skills in recent crops of physicians. 

“They can’t think!” she exclaimed. “They have not learned how to use their brains to make a diagnosis.”

“I know!” I said. “I used to think all doctors were smart and had critical thinking skills. But it’s the opposite!”