You may be right that there are still a few occasions on which a hypocritical utterance is made and called for what it is. But the trend is down, down, down. These days, public and media figures don’t even bother to be hypocritical – they just act disgustingly, say outrageous things, and smile sweetly. To quote that great philosopher, Alfred E. Neuman, “What? Me worry?”

Consider Dennis Rodman, idol of NFL wannabees from inner city ghetto to inner city ghetto. He makes obscene amounts of money, not just because of his ability to toss a sphere through a fishing net hung from a peach basket analog, but because he is such a flaming jerk. Despite this, he can visit North Korea (a country with nearly as many incarcerated citizens as the current world record holder, the good old U. S. of A., and a level of poverty that makes Ethiopia look good), hobnob with a manifestly insane dictator, and not even try to make an excuse. Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian circulate pornos of themselves.

And this attitude is coarsening public discourse into unrecognizability. Naughty words fill the airwaves. Scatological words [N.B. Strictly speaking, this term refers solely to expressions about bodily excrescences, but has come to cover all bad words.] fill children’s books. Sex education (formerly Hygiene) now includes pornographic movies and prophylactic demonstrations. Not a Bowdlerization in sight!

How can we return to the status quo ante? I think that an effective route would be to emulate our Puritan ancestors.

BRING BACK THE STOCKS!

We already have an excellent candidate to run the program: Michael Bloomberg. Hizzonner is already charging through the fields of sugared beverages, forcing fatties to slurp up their Big Gulps behnd the barn. He is forcing women who do not want to breast-feed the little vampires to hide their baby bottles inside their shirts in boob position. If you live in the Big Apple and aren’t a hypocrite, but have some independence of mind, you are heading for Big Trouble.

I can see it now. As we wake up for morning calisthenics in the street, a recording ot Hizzoner beating on a drum in the background, we can listen with great amusement to the wails of the miscreants, heads and hands immobilized, who have spent the preceding night shivering, breathing diesel exhaust fumes, and being covered in pigeon poop. Spend a night like that, buster, and you will pay homage to virtue for the rest of your life, no matter how much fun you have on the sly.

Of course, if the stocks don’t work, we can always bring back public hangings.