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Wisdom is the abstract of the past, but beauty is the promise of the future.
-Oliver Wendell Holmes
I was enjoying my nap at 221 B Baker St. the single walk-up flat I share with my old friend Sherlock Holmes when I was awakened, rather rudely, by the grunting sound of either a Sumatran Rhino in fetal distress or a large Hippopotami intent on attracting a mate. It was neither. It turns out after some disorientation, and only a little deduction, that it was said old friend Holmes in the water closet making those horrible sounds. They only got louder and more screeching. I was concerned for my oldest friend as the sound grew louder and higher in pitch. My Hippocratic oath and training knew what to do.
After breaking down the water closet door, you can imagine my horror to find Sherlock Holmes stark naked and squatting precariously, Hindi style on the edge of the fragile porcelain bowl.
"Good Heavens, Sherlock! What on earth are you doing?
"Not just earth, Watson, but rare and fine porcelain found only at the Kretaceous-Tertiary layers of earth. No fears for the delicacy is only an illusion and the bowl quite sturdy for a French made thing. And if you must know what I am doing, it is called 'Jonkot' by the Malaysian practitioners of this ancient art." He made no effort to cover up so I averted my eyes.
"To what end, Holmes?"
"'Jonkot' is the ancient art of squatting and wiping ones arse without closet paper. One simply..." I jumped in, certain that a graphic description or, worse, a demostration was about to follow.
"Jesus, Joseph and Chaucer, Holmes! Whatever for?"
"I'm protesting, Watson. To be precise, I am 'Boycotting'."
"Boycotting? Who and whatever for? And why the bloody sounds of a gorilla in the throes of orgasm?"
"One question at a time, Watson. Your bedside manner is as atrocious as your metaphors." He put down a bottle that may have at one time held good Irish Whiskey but now held a lower purpose. Much lower. "Boycotting is the act of not purchasing ones wares to create economic impact. So named for the Irishman Charles Boycott who was famously shunned by the Irish people for foreclosing on their farms. It is a fiduciary filibuster of sorts."
"Heavens, Holmes I know what a boycott is but who and why?"
"It is nefarious, Watson. Egregious and most notorious. You see, Watson, these criminals believe they will have escaped my legal legerdemain simply by committing their crimes in the future. So today I 'jonkot' and save the world. Huzzah!" As he said this he inexplicably saluted while still in his squatting pose. I tried to avert my gaze but part of listening to Holmes is always visual. Today it was a tad too visual. I attempted to look at the ceiling.
"Our new nemesis, Watson, are masters of monopoly, manipulation and mass deception. Far worse than Moriarity because they have escaped the confines of the criminal underworld and will, in the future operate in broad daylight." He suddenly stood in a pose that would suggest the American Statue of Liberty but his book was a Deerstalker and his torch was a whiskey bottle whose good Irish Whiskey was replaced by water, a notable demotion in its functionality and pride. The most disturbing element of his imitation was the absence of any robe and the obviousness of his gender.
I backpedaled into the hall and unmentionable parts of him brushed by me with no regard to my proximity. I am a doctor but, no excuses, there are limits.
Holmes went directly to the window overlooking a busy Baker Street wearing only his Deerstalker and lighting a rather large Meerschaum pipe that was unfortunately not the most noticeable protrusions facing passersby. He continued. "It is a plot, dear Watson, the likes of which only I or my betters will be able to defeat and I will not be there. Needless to say I have no betters and it is up to me to send a protege into the future who can foment the seeds of change and defeat the evil twins."
"You mean your older brother, Mycroft?" This irritated him. .
"Of course not. That piker couldn't deduce the origins of a chicken if the shell were still on it." He began his stretches and I knew what was about to occur. I could only shutter. He had every attention of doing his precious 'Five Tibetans' calisthenics in front of the picture window. In front of God, the Queen and all her unfortunate subjects. "But I am ahead of them. I will effect the time space continuum by writing to the future. I will send my thoughts to a Holmes yet unborn. My great nephew will be a man of Jurisprudence and he will not only save the world but he will propel the Holmes name far into the twenty-first Century."
As he said this he got up and began twirling like a dervish, holding his hat in one hand and the empty arse washing whiskey bottle in the other. Centrifugal force was doing its worst and I did not have to imagine what the populace below was now witness to. He continued, "I will start by leaving my wisdom to my yet unborn great nephew and give him free license to pepper his soon to be famous legal decisions with my jurisprudential pearls of wisdom. He will, undoubtedly, rise in his profession until he is Chief Justice of the United States and he will, as undoubtedly, be a maverick, if I may use that anachronism, and be known as the 'Great Dissenter' a huge arse pain of a man, who will say 'I told you so' from far beyond the grave. As will I."
Holmes Sufi-like twirling had fortunately stopped facing away from the window. Most unfortunately, he was now facing me and the unintended consequences of centrifugal force were now in my purview. He ignored my discomfort or pretended not to enjoy the same as he went on. "Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, that will be his name will famously state, 'The right to swing my fist ends where the other fellows nose begins.' in other words, words that you will understand, 'Do no harm'. As an individual, the owners of the toilet paper empire can say what they wants but in the age of the ironically titled Citizens United, the corporation will be a 'person'. A 'person' who will enjoy the right of free and unlimited speech and the bewigged giants of the future will hold that money is also speech."
He was laying on the floor now and raising his legs and, when supine, reminded me that the Queen herself had sent a summons to give him yet another title and make him a Lord. He stopped to gauge my reaction. Fortunately I had just stopped staring at the newest member of parliament and hiccoughed. He mistook my seizure for shock and dismay. "I know, right?"
I hiccoughed again, "excuse me, Holmes?"
"No fears, Watson, just a little idiom I mean to launch into the future. 'I know, right?' It makes your deductions seems as if I thought of them first. Brilliant."
I raised an eyebrow, "I know, right?"
"Touche, Doctor. But enough of that." He pressed on and time had not reduced his rather voluminous corpuscular ardor. His priapic condition now seemed to rhythmically punctuate his speech like a conductor of the new music I am so unfond of and that he, Holmes, loves. "So while it is their private belief, the money is corporate and their corporate speech intends to do harm. His 'swinging fist' has reached far past my my rather obvious and noble proboscis." The ironic anatomical context of his easily misunderstood Latin did not escape this man of medicine. "Their twin corporate contributions and that of the corporation will be funding discriminatory practices, deregulation of civil rights, our nascent women's suffrage, suppress voters rights and they will hide behind the invisibility cloak of anonymity decrying their opposition's lack of tolerance. Worst of all, dear doctor, is their intent on dismantling the rights of homosexuals."
Another hiccough. "I know, right. In the future they will discover that the abominable and abhorrent is actually just genetics and there will be a hue and cry to make what is natural, unnatural as it is unfortunately here in our day. That, I cannot allow, Watson."
I swallowed hard. The degree of frankness and passion on this never broached subject was beyond my composure filters. Holmes, pretended not to notice and, thankfully, continued.
He began his third of five 'Tibetans' away from the windows but a little too close for my comfort. On his knees. Bending backwards. Rhythmic. Bobbing. "The dismantling of rights is only part of the 'speech' of this new evil corporate person. It will apply to legislation where it will fund the defeat of legislation condemning the murder of homosexuals in other countries. They will oppose that condemnation. People will die. Their monstrous corporations will fund the slippery slope of hate to Hades. In short, they will be using corporate money to do harm. Real harm. Not just speech. certainly not free. It will require billions of whatever it is that Americans will be spending in the future. Billions of people precisely like you and me."
"I."
Holmes ignored my correction. "Yes. You as well"
"But Holmes, isn't it preferable and right to allow people to speak freely even if, and especially if, we disagree?"
Holmes stopped his repetitions to give me a pitying look. I thought my question valid. He spoke in the tone of a school marm with a particularly dense charge. "I tolerate what they say as human persons. I support their civil right to express their selves and support their causes. As Individuals. I even understand their belief in a 'Natural Law' and how they think that a collection of their books is that law. they are entitled to believe that. But it isn't. And that isn't relevant. Moreover, if they choose to use anything other than their own pay to promulgate the type of legislation, propaganda and hatred, I simply don't have to fund it."
He arched back again. Then forward. Low. So low I was reminded to speak to the cleaning lady about mopping. Thoroughly. "I will Jonkot and I will exercise my right to Boycott. I also have the right to expose his corporate culture as harmful, his practices as discriminatory and his 'corporate money speech' as uncostitutional. Perhaps, in the future, I will get people to squat and forego the use of closet paper as the ultimate protest."
"Seems a tad unsanitary, Holmes. Extreme, to say the least."
"Nonsense, dear boy. Humans have been using hand and water for millenia. We have been convinced by nefarious paper companies that their way is better. Seems worse to me, but it's a personal choice. And that is my point. We are alike these Kochs and I." His pronunciation of their names was not the Germanic one. "Like the Kochs, my own personal decision to 'not fund' is personal. Like the Kochs, I am asking others to believe as I do. Unlike the Kochs, I am not using a corporation to do so, and that is where we differ. That is where the harm is, and that is where you will find my proboscis bent out of shape. We must all squat and block the Kochs." He raised his twisting fist in a sudden gesture that made me blush.
Holmes slowly extricated his fist from the air in a rotating motion that somehow unnerved me. "In light of this evil "Citizens United" decision they will now, or rather 'then', have the ability to imply by their many corporations that they represent a band of 'citizens, united'. They will hold up their employees who haven't been asked but whose 'at will' supplication makes them complicit and they will take their money and yours as proof of our agreement with their speech They will then unfairly leverage this to have more rights than I do. You do. They will do this with your money. Your complicity. My advice to the future, Watson, is to boycott. Boycott as if your life depends on it."
"But Holmes..."
He barked suddenly and jumped to his haunches in one quick motion, "Squat with me, doctor, it is your Hippocratic oath. Do. No. Harm!" As he said this he bounced up and down with each word and I felt oddly compelled to join him. He looked at me askance as we bounced together. He finally spoke, possibly, to relieve my embarrassment.
"Future Justice Holmes will also say, at my prompting, and less famously, 'The mind of the bigot is like the pupil of the eye; the more light you shine on it, the more it contracts.' Boycotting shines this light. It is working. It is like anything. If you don't feed it, it won't grow. There are those who disagree and will feed it in my place. That is their right. Until Citizens is overturned or nullified by federal and state laws it is necessary to use the voice of real people to defeat the unfair advantage of corporation 'persons' in our political process."
His voice and volume reached a feverish pitch as he suddenly yelled 'Jonkot! Jonkot! Jonkot!...' over and over again and I felt compelled to join him in a frenzied spate of squatting, bouncing and yelling. The chant became, 'BOYCOTT, BOYCOTT, BOYCOTT...!' Louder and louder and then... We both fell over backwards at he same time and were silent. Only our heavy breathing and the distant siren of a fire engine headed somewhere near was heard.
Holmes looked over at me as I lay on the floor with him. "In the end, Watson, we have the power to use our own speech and our own money to forward our own principles and render the Kochs of the world impotent of their power, render them harmless by taking away our complicity and funding. Our considerable endowment. Our oral Endorsement. And they will lose money. Our money. A lot of money, and that is their real religion. They didn't get into business to quote the bible. As my nephew Holmes will say, 'a man is usually more careful of his money than his principles.' So it is with the Kochs of the world. Squat with me, Watson, we will save the future..."
********
"I wish to point out to you a very much better way – a more Christian and charitable way, which will give the lost man an opportunity of repenting. When a man takes a farm from which another has been evicted, you must shun him on the roadside when you meet him – you must shun him in the streets of the town – you must shun him in the shop – you must shun him on the fair green and in the market place, and even in the place of worship, by leaving him alone, by putting him in moral Coventry, by isolating him from the rest of the country, as if he were the leper of old – you must show him your detestation of the crime he committed."
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