I caught this AP article about a brief Oval Office photo-op for the "American Idol" finalists. I'm sure that President Bush's critics will come out with something like "Bush plays Taylor Hicks's harmonica while Haifa burns" or some such. After all, the visit followed right after a meeting with British P.M. Tony Blair.

I've never minded this kind of event. It's been going on since time immemorial, takes but a few minutes, doesn't prevent the machinery of government from running, and keeps the president in touch with the common people. (And, they couldn't have made Forrest Gump if not for scenes like this, although that might be a mark against it.)

But today's juxtaposition of the Blair summit and the karaoke contest winners reminds me of a great old "Saturday Night Live" skit. Phil Hartman played President Reagan during the Iran-Contra affair. Publicly, he pretended to be senile and grandfatherly, but behind closed doors, he was "the masterbrain," ruthlessly running meetings and directing every detail of the arms-for-hostages matter. And of course, in the middle of a tense meeting, he has to break for a photo-op with the Girl Scout who sold the most cookies. I'm sure many critics long to see Bush the same way -- a regular, decent guy in public, but the brilliant, cunning manipulator of every world event behind the scenes. My guess is he's the same guy all the time, probably somewhere in the middle. Still, it's funny to imagine Bush, like Reagan in the skit, calculating slush fund interest in his head and making deals with the Iraqis in Arabic.

This week's Ohio Supreme Court decision holding that the Ohio Constitution forbids Kelo-style "economic development" takings puts me in mind of The Pretenders' classic "My City Was Gone."

I went back to Ohio
But my pretty countryside
Had been paved down the middle
By a government that had no pride.
The farms of Ohio
Had been replaced by shopping malls
And muzak filled the air
From Seneca to Cuyahoga falls.
Said, A, O, way to go Ohio.

Maybe Chrissie Hynde & co. don't have anything to worry about anymore. However, like Prof. Somin, I'll be curious to see if future courts decide that private economic development plus some other factor (e.g., blight) passes muster. If economic development can be considered at all, then it has the potential to become a considerable loophole. Clearly, I'm not as invested as Will or many others on these property rights issues; it's just never wound me up. But when I see a decision like this, I'm always curious how we would have gotten the railroads built in this country if strict takings law like this Ohio decision applied back then. After all, wasn't that just handing over private property, via eminent domain, to private industries (who surely had enough money to buy the land in most cases) for their own economic development?

I'm sure that crowd has a good answer and can point me to many helpful resources. I'm not trying to pick a fight; I'm genuinely curious.

If you've been trying to comment here lately and have been unsuccessful, I'm sorry. We seem to be having a problem with Haloscan. My plan is to ignore it and hope it goes away.

Yesterday, Prof. Volokh had a post about tickling. Specifically, about the difference between tickling children and adults. With children, typically the reaction is positive; with adults, typically negative. I won't speculate as to whom Volokh has been doing his research on, and I haven't been on either end of a tickle in so long I can't remember when the last time was. But I sent him a brief email in response:

I once saw an anthropologist on tv (it was one of those "The Human Animal"-type shows) state that the laughter response from tickling was a sign of relief. The situation appears to be frightful (often, a bigger creature stalking you, holding you down, and assaulting you), but turns out to be harmless. Children eventually realize what's coming, and start giggling even before the tickling commences. But overall, it's play-acting a frightening scenario in a trusted environment, and reinforces the child's sense of security with the parent. I'm no anthropologist, but it seems plausible to me. It also makes sense when you consider the situation where the tickler goes too far -- the scenario is no longer playful. That can be true of children and adults. I think many adults don't like being tickled because they don't trust the tickler to stop at the appropriate time. For them, it's not play-acting a frightening scenario; it's actually frightening.

With adults, I think there are also issues of power imbalances and boundaries and personal space, especially when the tickler isn't an intimate. I think the unwanted tickle is a very accurate microcosm: the kind of person who thinks it's ok to do that probably has all sorts of inappropriate ideas about relationships and particularly the tickler's relationship with the tickled. I'm not saying ticklers are bound to be rapists just because they're willing to keep going when the victim begs them to stop tickling. But at a minimum, the tickler thinks the two have a closer relationship than they do, and assumes all the license that usually comes with an intimate relationship. When those two people aren't on the same page about what is permitted, it's a recipe for disaster.

I didn't even mean to make this post about adults, although I find these breakdowns in the social order fascinating. (See my post on being subjected to involuntary conversations.)

What I really started thinking about when I read the tickling post was children and parenting roles. I had just finished this twenty-year-old Atlantic article about the meaning and significance of children's play, and that led me to another article by the same author about the difference between punishment and discipline for children. (I think both of those articles are limited to subscribers, but I can email them if you're desperate.)

Anyway, the articles talked a lot about how both play and discipline work as symbols for kids, especially in regards to their relationships with their parents. For example, children (boys and girls) use dolls to act out issues they've had with their parents, identifying both with the "parent" (the child playing) and "child" (the doll). The author concludes that the best discipline for misbehaving children is to remove the child from the parent's presence, because this is symbolic of separation, and the child will learn to act in a way that doesn't threaten that bond.

Now, I'm not going to debate child-rearing theories, so I don't care whether any of this is right or wrong. (Although, it sounds right, and comports with the notion that tickle-play is symbolic for children and allows them to safely work through their anxieties.) I wasn't even really thinking about assessing these articles on their merits, but the thought came to me that maybe I'm not qualified to do that because I don't have (or want or like) children. So then I got to wondering if one has to have children to do heavy thinking about parent-child relationships. After all, Roger Ebert has never made a movie, but he gets to opine on their quality, right? (Speaking of movies, you don't have to have a Ph.D. to know there are some bad parents out there any time you go to a theater.)

I think, though, that what I really got out of these articles was just how much effort goes in to being a good parent. That notion wasn't new to me, of course, but it was taxing for me just to read about how much effort goes into it. One example from the play article is how parents will say "Not now, I'm busy," to a child asking to play. The parent may genuinely be busy with something important, but since play is reality to small children, they perceive that the child's concerns aren't important to the parent. This is only reinforced when the parents are ready to do something and the kid is playing: if the child says, essentially, "Not now, I'm busy," the parents will override that decision and end playtime.

I don't get kids. When I was teaching for a while, it was just impossible for me to communicate with any kids under 14 or so. (The older ones were impossible for entirely different reasons.)

Okay, an aside: In fairness, my favorite teaching story involves younger kids. I was subbing in a fifth-grade classroom, and the students were supposed to be doing a math worksheet or something. Of course, they were all chatty and not working. I said something about taking down the names of anyone who talked. I grabbed a pen and a pad and pretended to be writing. Most of the kids got quiet, but one smartass noticed the space between pen and paper and proclaimed, "He ain't writing! He's holding the pen over the paper!" So I looked him square in the eye, put pen to paper, and wrote his name on the pad in big letters. The look on his face when he realized what he'd done was priceless. I don't think anyone's going to write any magazine articles about my disciplinary techniques.

Anyway, the biggest reason I don't want kids is that I realize the effort it takes to be a good parent, the neccesity to put my interests and desires second to their needs, and how hard it is to get them to understand you. When you have a kid, playtime is over, and I want to keep playing. If that means I never get to see children light up when I tickle them, I can live with that.

...but The Ruins is too interesting to put down. Review to follow sometime.

Oh, since I'm on the topic, what should I read next? I already have plenty of books piled up in my to-read pile, but I'm always looking for reading suggestions. Thanks.

Hm, and now that I think about it, let me know if anyone would be interested in a blogger (and blog-reader) book swap. I know others have done this before. If there's sufficient interest to do it again, let me know and I'll get to work on it.