Or, An Expert Speaks.

In which a Senate hearing on drug safety takes a somewhat surreal turn:

Sen. Josh Hawley (R-MO): “Can men get pregnant?”

Dr. Nisha Verma: “I’m not really sure what the goal of the question is.”

Sen. Josh Hawley (R-MO): “The goal is just to establish a biological reality… Can men get pregnant?”

Dr. Nisha Verma: “I take care of people with many… pic.twitter.com/decglkqHkX

— RedWave Press (@RedWave_Press) January 14, 2026

What struck me was the claim by Dr Nisha Verma, our adjunct assistant professor and “person of science,” that she would be “more than happy to have a conversation” – i.e., regarding whether men can get pregnant – while suggesting quite strongly that this is not in fact the case.

Unless, presumably, Dr Verma were given total and unilateral control of what questions may be asked, and of how they may be asked, of what wording may be used, and of which aspects of reality may be mentioned during any such exchange, should one be permitted.

On grounds that direct, very simple questions, asked seemingly in vain, are “polarising” and thus to be avoided.

It seems to me that if your political worldview, and in-group social status, very much depend on shunning certain fairly obvious questions, exposure to which induces wobbling and an urgent need for word salad, then that worldview has some, shall we say, structural issues.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

Meanwhile, at Boston University, enormous thoughts are being had:

The she in question is Professor Megan Elias.

Oh, and she’s talking about food.

Obviously.

The question “what is queer food?” is, we’re told by Professor Elias, “a question that’s coming up a lot lately.” If only among academics desperate for an angle, an excuse for claiming a salary and wasting other people’s time. Academics much like Professor Elias.

Welcome to the bleeding edge of human mental activity.

Quite how one can edit “an illustrated guide to queer food,” complete with recipes, as Professor Ilias has, while simultaneously being unable to define what such a thing is, should it exist, is a question I leave to the reader.

Though a review of said book does offer a clue:

So “queer food,” it turns out, is not in fact a thing. It’s just whatever people who describe themselves as “queer” – a subset of insufferable misfits – happen to eat. While talking about themselves and how terribly “queer” they are.

Specifics of the professor’s course content are, as one might imagine, a little sketchy, beyond the obligatory claims of things being “disrupted” and “interrogated,” albeit in ways not altogether clear, or indeed convincing.

We are, however, informed that the credulous and self-absorbed will be invited to ponder what they might eat on a first date – because that’s totally worth those annual fees of $90,000 – and “how [their] food choice is representing [their] gender identity.”  Which is a thing that food should do, apparently.

Oh, and the aforementioned,

On grounds that being, say, “polyamorous” – i.e., a neurotic slag – may, in ways unexplained, determine how much you like lasagne or carrots.

Such is the sophistication of our times.

Those so inclined – and with nothing better to do – are welcome to reflect on yesterday’s dinner, or this morning’s breakfast, and then explain to the rest of the class how those foodstuffs “represent” your “gender identity.”

I’ll award points for contrivance.

Readers may recall our adventures in “queered” history, which is like history, but less so. And, as above, much more self-involved.

From academia, that hothouse of social progress:

Ah, the arts. Where it’s all thou-shalt-not.

Not really in the spirit of what music is, methinks. Sort of, “You only get to sing this if we think you look right. Because appearance – specifically, your racial classification – is what matters.” And hey, who wouldn’t love a game of Who May Sing What, Based On Their Skin Colour? How terribly uplifting.

Needless to say, no corresponding restrictions or accusations of “cultural appropriation” would be tolerated regarding minority students performing music deemed white. Say, as when the troupe performed the works of the Jonas Brothers and the very pale pop songstress Ariana Grande. But clearly, reciprocal principles would be too much to ask.

Fair point.

Being entirely reasonable, this didn’t go down well.

Yes, I know. The word irony scarcely covers it.

Despite the group’s policy of unilateral racial exclusivity in singing being somewhat dissonant with the university’s codes of conduct, which prohibit “discrimination… based on race,” Mr Phillips was warned that his expectations of fairness and merit might have dire consequences. And there followed exquisitely detailed conditions of any further discussion of the issue, with stern pre-emptive cautions against “aggressive wording.”

Vocal Intensity styles itself as the university’s “premier all-gender a cappella group” and claims to provide “an inclusive environment for all individuals who have a passion for music.” But obviously, not if you fancy singing Alice Smith and Miles Caton’s Last Time (I Seen The Sun) while being offensively white.

Update, via the comments:

Dicentra asks,

Well, quite. And the reactiveness of the group’s board – their spluttering that anyone might notice the inconsistency and even dare to point it out – and their remarkably detailed conditions regarding any further discussion – does rather paint a picture of a certain mindset. A type.

As noted here more than once, it does save a lot of time and aggravation if pointed use of the words inclusive, cultural appropriation, etc., is regarded not as a welcome or reassurance, but as a warning of the kinds of personalities you’ll be likely to encounter, should you venture closer, foolishly.

Commenter Aitch quotes this,

And adds,

And hey, everything is so much more fun when it’s been racially organised.

See also, the thrill of ideologically corrected dancing.

For those with an interest in recent history, and indeed surrealism, a catalogue of progressive cancel culture.

Among the sins punished with both swiftness and eyebrow-raising severity – questioning the benefits of rioting; questioning overt racial favouritism at the University of California, Los Angeles; saying that George Floyd wasn’t actually a moral exemplar; liking tweets in support of Donald Trump; questioning the methods of Black Lives Matter; showing the 1965 film of Laurence Olivier’s Othello to students at the University of Michigan; and teaching students of Chinese how to pronounce Chinese words.

And regarding the above, this:

And also, from recent comments, this by Mr Wanye Burkett:

Readers may wish to ponder whether the sins mentioned above – expressing doubts about rioting, or teaching Chinese pronunciation to students of Chinese – exist on the same level of inaptness as, say, a public-school teacher showing ten-year-olds shockingly graphic video of a man being shot in the neck, and killed, in front of his family, and showing that footage repeatedly, “numerous times,” while hectoring those same ten-year-olds on the merits of so-called “anti-fascism.”

Answers on a postcard, please.

Update, via the comments:

Regarding the example immediately above, John D adds,

It does, I think, invite questions as to the vetting of public school educators and the kinds of personalities the job seems to attract in high concentrations. It also invites questions as to what kind of environment, what kind of workplace assumptions, might make a teacher of ten-year-olds think that such behaviour would be considered acceptable.

I mean, if nothing else, and even absent any conventional moral inhibition, you’d think that one of the obvious considerations for a teacher of ten-year-olds might at least be the assumption that parents will find out. In this case, when their children arrive home bewildered and distressed. And to therefore behave accordingly. And yet.

Update 2:

Regarding this,

Liz adds,

Or sufficiently sympathetic, politically, to not mind too much, or maybe just accustomed to politicised overreach and inapt behaviour in general. Those would seem to be among the more obvious inferences. And as so often, it appears that shocked parents, rather than colleagues, were the ones to object.

On the subject of parents being shocked to discover, belatedly, what their children are actually being taught, these three incidents came to mind. Among many others. Note, in the third link, the casual invention of a fake curriculum – yes, a fake curriculum – so as to deceive any curious parents.

And all while insisting, “This is not being deceitful.”

In light of which, the “anti-fascist” snuff-video session mentioned above doesn’t exactly scream anomaly or aberration, or some unfortunate misreading of the room, so much as a ratcheting upwards.

With a hat-tip to Darleen.

And in expensive and statusful education news:

It’s protest, you hear. Albeit of a gratuitous and self-serving kind.

Because in order to titillate pinhead students and their pinhead lecturers, you need to frame selfishness and moral squalor as sexy and upscale, and ever-so daring. It’s “radical ethics,” you see.

Unlike modish Manhattan universities that applaud themselves as “a place for fearless progress,” and whose lecturers glamourise shoplifting and the self-satisfied violation of other, better people.

The seminar, since you ask, is the work of Cresa Pugh, a woman who lives in Brooklyn, obviously, and who boasts of “decolonising” and “interrogating” many things, while arriving at entirely predictable conclusions.

You see, being a grubby, antisocial prick and stealing from a library or grocery store is giving it to the man, man.

At which point, readers are invited to imagine Ms Pugh being robbed in broad daylight – a bag-snatching or phone-snatching or possibly a mugging – and her subsequent search for some aesthetic in the experience. 

And because sometimes the punchlines just write themselves:

Previously – on needless, habitual mooching as a radical lifestyle thang.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.