For psychological reasons, I needed to re-read the commentary from your essay, In Praise of Elitism: Obama studies 101

…I’m on my first shot of Tequila.
As a new member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Bow Ties. I pledge to purchase my first bow tie. It will probably be a snap-on version, I’ll wear it as an emblem comparable to the yellow bows fixed to an oak tree. Come to think of it this may turn out to be a happening just like in the olden days of Haight-Ashbury. A sort of tie-in, turn on and take out- fusion whence, We all measure our lives with coffee spoons.

With insights like these:

From Ed :
“The sheer absurdity of this bowtied gent blathering on about Obama’s elitism boggles the mind. You look like the dean of the elitist school…”

From ar :
“Take a good look at your picture. It says I am an elitist SOB with a nice gig at the WSJ. When was the last time you talked to a peasant Roger?”

From Darren :
“Most of all, though, we resent the hell out of people like you (and yourself) telling us what we should think and others what we actually are thinking as if we’re some homogenous culture who gets the vapors when the wrong beer is brought to the table.”

…and after my second shot of Tequila I looked up praxis:

For the Hermeneuts, then, language takes precendence over praxis in the constitution of meaning. That which cannot be said cannot be meant, and the purported meanings embedded in wordless praxis presumably must somehow be founded by language in some sense of the term. This view contrast with that of the Founders, who recognize praxis as at least an equal contributor with language to the constitution of meaning, and with that of the Pittsburgh Hegelians, who give precendence to language, but conceive language as itself fundamentally tied to language. We have at this point, then, the three majors positions before us. To begin sorting them out it will help us to have a more thoroughgoing conception of praxis and social practices at play. We thus turn now to the work of Theodore Schatzki.

Index Verborum Prohibitorum. My imaginary entry for (a wordless praxis) “ ” and you can quote me.

I’m now stuffing my face with bratwursts and working on my third shot of Tequila. Suddenly I’ve developed acute Pickwickian syndrome. Dang. Tequila, wrong beer again.

This is more than I wanted to say, that is, to really say nothing. So I just maybe will vote for Obama after all, wearing my elitist yellow bow tie.