if not adjustable, similar products must always be supervised
partly at the chance they remove the back from any ape so widely
reported in the media because transferring and sprays, solvents
and alcohol and abrasives carry features of this abuse to exponents
of proper human condition. december’s batteries are tuesdays page 8
turn it on again, wait five seconds, then turn it on again.

additional suggestions hung in the square.

our unmarried women includinginterference never service
never force a connector into a port. if the temperature
is always between 0 and 35 degrees c than keep a saw
in hand toward her tiny face going her port. do not
use headphones while driving however, there is no guarantee.
the indigenous rebel 3 is a collection of insects and catalog
shorts painted brow-wise over a million transfers to stations
dried up in his hearts with a smiling riff but she did not cry.

I see a joy encoded if obstructed they smoked december 21st
also two countries suck in seemingly endless life use low-power
jaunty and dynasty havingproblems with railroad tracks respectetoutes
les exigences accessories you’d have been 21, 10:29 am page 9 9 1
transferring rating5v dc, 1 a maximumbatteryyou’re following twoconditions:
(1) this the arms of would-be foes were hacked off computercomplete
this step if you haven’t.(2) quel sauvage! if you were ever in the level
of tennis racket cases make space for songs, you must delete
interference stops, it was probably transferred to the invisible guy.

On those he’s taken to bed –

Some cry: “Love me!” Others: “Don’t love me!” But a certain genus, the worst and most unhappy, cries: “Don’t love me and be faithful to me!”

On punishment and judgement –

“I’m not saying to avoid punishment, for punishment without judgement is bearable. It has a name, besides, that guarantees our innocence: it is called misfortune. No, on the contrary, it’s a matter of dodging judgment of avoiding being forever judged without having a sentence pronounced. … Today we are always ready to judge as we are to fornicate.

On camaraderie –

“This is so true that we rarely confide in those who are better than we. Rather, we are more inclined to flee their society. Most often, on the other hand, we confess to those who are like us and who share our weaknesses. Hence we don’t want to improve ourselves or be bettered, for we should first have to be judged in default. We merely wish to be pitied and encouraged in the course we have chosen. In short, we should like, at the same time, to cease being guilty and yet not to make the effort of cleansing ourselves. Not enough cynicism and not enough virtue. We lack the energy of evil as well as the energy of good. Do you know Dante? Really? The devil you say! Then you know that Dante accepts the idea of neutral angels in the quarrel between God and Satan. And he puts them in Limbo, a sort of vestibule of his Hell. We are in the vestibule, cher ami.

On human affairs –

“… In any case, here it is: I have never been really able to believe that human affairs were serious matters. I had no idea where the serious might lie, except that it was not in all this I saw around me–which seemed to me merely an amusing game, or tiresome. There are really efforts and convictions I have never been able to understand. I always looked with amazement, and a certain suspicion, on those strange creatures who died for money, fell into despair over the loss of a “position,” or sacrificed themselves with a high and mighty manner for the prosperity of their family. I could better understand that friend who had made up his mind to stop smoking and though sheer will power had succeeded. One morning he opened the paper, read that the first H-bomb had been exploded, learned about its wonderful effects, and hastened to a tobacco shop.

On immortality –

Despairing of love and of chastity, I at last bethought myself of debauchery, a substitute for love, which quiets the laughter, restores silence, and above all, confers immortality. At a certain degree of lucid intoxication, lying late at night between two prostitutes and drained of all desire, hope ceases to be a torture, you see; the mind dominates the whole past, and the pain of living is over forever. In a sense, I had always lived in debauchery, never having ceased wanting to be immortal. … Then you’ll see that true debauchery is liberating because it creates no obligations. In it you possess only yourself; hence it remains the favorite pastime of the great lovers of their own person. It is a jungle without past or future, without any promise above all, nor any immediate penalty. The places where it is practiced are separated from the world. On entering, one leaves behind fear and hope.

“If you don’t think this is music, you can get the fuck out of here.” With a million happy customers every year, these are not words you associate with audiences or performers at the Montreal Jazz Festival. But John Zorn’s F-bomb from the stage was aimed at one of many agitated audience members who expressed their displeasure over the evening’s all-star trio of himself, Laurie Anderson and Lou Reed. No doubt a large part of the audience was expecting “Sweet Jane,” “Walk on the Wild Side,” or even Anderson’s “O Superman.” Instead, it was a free improv showdown that shocked the crowd, prompting dozens to walk out after two songs.

Lou Reed is at his best when people are walking out and yelling at him and having resigned himself from releasing pop music temporarily, it’s great to see him making good use of his time and embracing the Metal Machine Music within.

You would hope that the one place people wouldn’t walk out and boo at these sorts of performances would be a Jazz festival. My hope would be that those interested in Jazz would have an open mind about dissonance and improvisation, just as they have an open mind for the pop groups that perform at Jazz festivals or the other musical movements Jazz musicians have cross pollinated with. I’d also hope they’d consider the unfair/dismissive attitudes many Jazz musicians have faced when innovating and try not to duplicate that behavior.

But, you ask, “Does it meet a definition of Jazz?”

The music played by Reed et al here is hardly as difficult and “noisy” as Lou Reed can get and I couldn’t convince you Zorn’s horn sounds like Jazz, but more importantly I think it sounds interesting (A++++ would buy again). What I could convince you of perhaps is that Zorn sounds like Ornette Coleman, who coincidentally gets played a lot on Lou Reed’s New York Shuffle radio program.

In 1989, Zorn recorded Spy vs Spy: The Music of Ornette Coleman, a hardcore punk collection of Ornette Coleman compositions that sounded like this… well it’s not on youtube, so forget it. Maybe I’ll find it later.

You say again, with that annoying persistence you get, “Was this performance Jazz?” To me that’s a boring question and echoes the ever-present “is this art?” question you’d likely hear in a freshman seminar. Whether it’s technically proficient is of very little interest to me, though I suppose that could be a priority for some. Personally, I can think of few things less exciting than virtuosity. Melody is nice, and they have that here, but sometimes disconnection between the instruments is as important as connecting them.

I prefer to ask the following when faced with a work:

So here’s the Thing:

notinstalled and used unproperly—that is,
in disk, the status light on the front of accordance
 with the moisture in openings expanding and closing
the aerosol movement of aerosol important more often than not
don’t use the and knot the insertion or later the erect border
so blown and limp that we look on the run to
avoid getting minutes of water on ankles and shuffle to drag songs
in harlequin turn off of one minute charged

 openingautomatically when you (willing to take tasteful risks).
the most sands of west africa. the scramble to make like.
 then, each time youconnect it’s causedby the computer
 or one of the photos from bottom patrol the streets of baghdad
 in a roundabout way. ensemble of portions the first time you
lay on the buckle of positions tied to infirmed.
a headdress and sessions with compliance and dispose the port
the first the port. dispose the port the serial number.

Tomorrow or later you listen to using
you can not object the requirements of 2004
and handling instructions from fitting your slung
maintain the components over your shoulder– a gate
swings open and a pale child comes out inserted one way.

10:29 am page 15 of combat. some chose this
and (2) this device mustaccept any format. this can be useful
 if you want to reserve a format. guidelines.taiwan:nederlands:
we’re 80-percent charged on rewind and drugs,
diamonds and even slavery, but in comes a pair of abuse
 exacted by data and running, he sits on a pile of stones and trash

showed us what humongous pussies our locals endure
not the endless rape, extortion, application and so forth.
(headed to press and you lift up his wig the light is amber)
 purpose in her pointed foot; her thighs and probably last for
only a few days. tinage riot. there’s another battery:remove the usb cap
and connect soldiers. store in the source list. click the volume.
 you can adapt over time to a higher collection away from home
and inhabit the world with a glowing smile.
 extraordinary gentlemen aren’taffected.
otherwise the rats no longer crawl.

DADDY LIKES HIS STEAKS. OH YES, HE DOES.

Strapped for cash in the mid-1950s, Kurt Vonnegut took a job at Sports Illustrated, though he “didn’t care or know squat about sports.”

They asked him to write a piece about a racehorse that had jumped the fence at the local track.

He fed a page into his typewriter, stared at it for several hours, typed “The horse jumped over the fucking fence” and left.

Via Lenin’s Tomb.

Now try Naomi Klein…

As we have all discovered, after the Deepwater Horizon rig exploded on 20 April, the company had no systems in place to effectively respond to this scenario. Explaining why it did not have even the ultimately unsuccessful containment dome waiting to be activated on shore, a BP spokesman, Steve Rinehart, said: “I don’t think anybody foresaw the circumstance that we’re faced with now.” Apparently, it “seemed inconceivable” that the blowout preventer would ever fail – so why prepare?

This refusal to contemplate failure clearly came straight from the top. A year ago, Hayward told a group of graduate students at Stanford University that he has a plaque on his desk that reads: “If you knew you could not fail, what would you try?” Far from being a benign inspirational slogan, this was actually an accurate description of how BP and its competitors behaved in the real world.

illustrated by the mid-90s for american rap
satan as a teenager [again, this is your connection calling]
thanks to the arrival of the internet we can only purchase.

The user is obstructed from fitting. residentialinstallation.
they made us prisoners in their own applications/utilities.
if nothinghappens set the switch

plays all alone with a shiny tin can. his computer.
for fastest transfer speeds, uniform dress doesn’t mean all
wars are of the television or radio.

tribal hunters, they pluck their style and source page 17:
following measures calmly. turn the television or believe us but we swear to god this is certain amount of space

near the to disconnect your reception is suspected.
radio is visible, the battery is out of power
so have some fun with it. death is out there causing interference for our own boys in uniform.

in about two hours, send your equipment and military uniforms. you could improve performance or add features. drag and conceal your collapsible stocks– you need to get started.

become caught or trapped—forexample, while canada makes electrical statements on civil wars: “Replace all civil wars with visual manifestations of combatants pushing rafters in cycles creating gothic structures out of sheer force of chaos. no warning bells or flashing lights,” says canada.

Be sure you are scratching the ground, this is a good land and gifts are measured in carbon weight. Do not help those who disconnect. Delete this starement.

migratory birds and their parts, compile and organize the familiar confusion of information glut, functional ascendance of killing. it was a great look according to your localenvironmental laws format by default.

From the Guardian:

Eric Clapton once described Johnson as, “the most important blues singer that ever lived”…[but] nearly 50 years after Columbia first packaged his work as King of the Delta Blues, we discover that we’ve been listening to these immortal songs at the wrong speed all along. Either the recordings were accidentally speeded up when first committed to 78, or else they were deliberately speeded up to make them sound more exciting. Whatever, the common consensus among musicologists is that we’ve been listening to Johnson at least 20% too fast. Numerous bloggers have helpfully slowed down Johnson’s best-known work and provided samples so that, for the first time, we can hear Johnson as he intended to be heard.

I, like many people, only know of Robert Johnson through Eric Clapton; I know Cream’s Crossroads a lot better than Johnson’s, and like it more too. But I love the fact that the figure of origin, used to authenticate electric blues by so many white electric bluesmen like Clapton, cannot now be disentangled from studio gimmickry. Part of the Clapton thing was that he was supposed to be taking the acoustic, rural, old, and black song of the Robert Johnson figure and making it young and white and modern and urban and electric. Rock and Roll as the electrified blues is every hack music journalist’s favorite cliche. And now it turns out that Johnson was himself playing games in the studio, that the authentic backdrop which your white bluesbreakers were trying to modernize was already always a function of industrial reproduction. Lovely. And yet, your music writers still can’t get over the desire to return to the original rural black acoustic singer — the completely unsupported sense that “he intended to be heard” as slow rather than fast — because of course, Johnson himself couldn’t have been the one who speeded up his playing on tape to make it sound more awesome. Only white people get to speed up and electrify his songs…

This is still under debate and the consensus is closer to the standard recordings than the slowed down ones. That being said, it isn’t the speed/pitch of the tapes or misplaced notions of “authenticity” that should be the final word on Johnson’s music– it’s the music itself.

There’s a great biography about Johnson, his peers and their myth called Escaping the Delta by Elijah Wald. He makes the point that the focus on “authenticity” and references to the blues coming out of the atmosphere or “soul” of rural delta life mainly serves the purpose of stripping blues players of their intellect and creativity. When we talk about authenticity, the focus on musicianship, song craft and ability is lost in some sort of zipp-a-de-do-dah myth that denigrates instead of celebrates.

That being said, it was common practice for bluesman like Johnson to craft myths around themselves in order to develop a following and a mystique. Think of it as a means of marketing before the era of music marketing. The crossroads myth in particular belonged to Tommy Johnson long before it belonged to Robert Johnson and much of the attribution of that myth to Robert Johnson was the result of revisionist history by Son House during the early 60’s folk revival.

Zunguzungu does make a good point about early bluesmen being aware of the industrial process of recording. Johnson purportedly sang into the corner of a room for his hotel recordings in order to project his voice and guitar, so he seems to have intentionally manipulated of his sound to an extent. He certainly didn’t live in an isolation chamber of Delta authenticity. Elijah Wald mentions that Johnson’s friends reported he used to listen to the radio obsessively and would copy styles he heard on the radio. He liked the music of Gene Autry, the Nashville/Hollywood star known as “The Singing Cowboy”, who was as close as you could get to a mainstream musical star back in the day. (EVEN WHITE MUSIC! OH NO! OUR NOTION OF AUTHENTICITY IS SLIPPING AWAY! )

Johnson was clearly aware of the power of the media and it’s image as well as the industrial process of recording, though the claim he manipulated his record speed seems patently ridiculous to me as recording artists had little influence on the engineering of the records back then. They just sang. What’s plausible is an error in the recording/fabricating process of the records, but even that seems questionable.

I’d like to call Clapton a wang. Having grown up listening to his ever-so-serious and ever-so-boring adult contemporary music, I have a hard time enjoying him and his bastard Mayer spawn. “He’s a wang!” I say, but… I don’t really think that’s relevant.

Despite his misguided statements and motives he has made some interesting music, particularly in the 60’s with Cream. As a believer in death of the author, I tend to favor looking at art and artist as separate as possible, because even if Clapton is at his worst– a racist, idiotic, middle of the road, laurel resting WANG thief– “Crossroads” is still a great sounding song and that thing, the recorded material, whether it’s Clapton or Johnson, is all that will ever matter.

If the status light blinks orange:
the device may not cause harmful interference, on dancing toes again, sparkling a service. finding the serial number of your experienced radio/television technician.

Follow the onscreen looting. Women were forced into slavery and push button three times quickly so help. rocket-propelled grenade launchers– a remarkable name!

Even when lightblinks green, check the battery.
the interior of any electrical product before west africa, contained “naked” transferred according to usb connector. border.book page 26 tuesday, your ear as shown.

If you don’t see this light, try golden and their other colour. the band was december 21, 2004 10:29 am.

Actually, that not only makes him happen. If you experience ringing, see the man is mad with love.

When the battery is charging, wait the barbarian. Animal skins and loincloths 561-684-TwentyOneHundred.

Use an authorized reseller. A used pipe for radio antenna until theinterference stops. Troubleshooting 23, if you’re attentive while driving, stop listening to illegal shoppers. Safe, proven fascists.

Let me ask a simple question to the pseudoliberals who take a soft line on the veil and the burqa. What about the Ku Klux Klan? Notorious for its hooded style and its reactionary history, this gang is and always was dedicated to upholding Protestant and Anglo-Saxon purity. I do not deny the right of the KKK to take this faith-based view, which is protected by the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. I might even go so far as to say that, at a rally protected by police, they could lawfully hide their nasty faces. But I am not going to have a hooded man or woman teach my children, or push their way into the bank ahead of me, or drive my taxi or bus, and there will never be a law that says I have to.

What the fuck is he talking about? The main thing that bugs us about the KKK was their tendency to wear hoods and their ideas about purity? It wasn’t the whole century of racial terror thing? Cause I thought it was more the lynching, the political violence, the burning down houses, and the century of racial terror. I thought preventing black people from being American citizens was the main thing. But I guess wearing hoods was pretty bad too.  

Yet as insanely stupid as this column is, I’m fascinated by the fact that his central rhetorical figure is his weird notion that because you’re supposed to show your face inside a bank, you should also have to show your face everywhere in America:

On the door of my bank in Washington, D.C., is a printed notice politely requesting me to remove any form of facial concealment before I enter the premises. The notice doesn’t bore me or weary me by explaining its reasoning: A person barging through those doors with any sort of mask would incur the right and proper presumption of guilt. This presumption should operate in the rest of society. I would indignantly refuse to have any dealings with a nurse or doctor or teacher who hid his or her face, let alone a tax inspector or customs official. Where would we be without sayings like “What have you got to hide?” or “You dare not show your face”?

It makes sense that you be requested not to wear facial concealment when you are in a bank. It’s still a complicated civil liberties issue, but at least it makes sense: it’s easier to rob a bank if you wear masks while you do it, so a bank wants you not to wear a mask.

But why exactly does he object to anyone anywhere wearing facial covering? Why is it that law enforcement is the instantly appropriate frame through which to think about this issue? Is it because Muslims are presumed, by virtue of being such, to be threats of some kind? Certainly you have to find some way of accounting for his weirdly aggrieved sense that veiled women are pushing past him in line at the banks, as we seem to have an awful lot of “barging” and “push[ing] their way into the bank ahead of me.” And certainly “My right to see your face” seems to be his takeaway point, in a way that makes his solicitousness for the choices of Muslim women a little hollow.

Which is why it’s so interesting that he not only conflates the “you” that is the dangerous Muslim threat assaulting his delicate sensibilities in public spaces with the “you” that is the sad Muslim victim of Muslim male power (speaking of “the right of women to show their faces, which easily trumps the right of their male relatives or their male imams to decide otherwise”), and which he actually poses as defending. But he at least recognizes that Muslim women that want to wear the veil are sort of a problem for his argument. After all, he can only imagine that horrible, horrible veiled lady that pushed past him in the bank as a threat to his civil liberties and imagine himself to be thereby in solidarity with her against her “male relatives” or “male imams” if he’s completely emptied her out of any subjectivity at all, making her into a weird repository of the desire of other males. And so, he makes the very silly claim that we “have no assurance that Muslim women put on the burqa or don the veil as a matter of their own choice,” despite the fact that we have lots of testimony that some or many do.

Now, of course, I’m not trying to make any generalizations about Muslim women or make any kind of statement about veiling as such; precisely the opposite, I’m pointing out that the only way to generalize about a massive group of massively heterogeneous people like “Muslim women” is to do what Hitchens is doing here: dumb yourself way, way down. After all, if some Muslim women somewhere choose to wear the veil of their own free will, then his argument falls apart, and he’s just imposing his personal preferences on that person in a deeply illiberal way. And so he categorically denies that possibility, arguing that we have evidence pointing the other way and supplementing it with a sense that we can’t really know more than that, that we just don’t have access to what Muslim women think, darn it.

Which is the real problem with his argument: rather than asking how he can best be an ally for the people he’s advocating for by getting to know as much as possible about them, his argument relies on knowing as little as possible about them. Yet just as with FGC/FGM/FGwhatever, if you want to have this conversation and have a coherent position on how to address it (especially as white person), you have to start with strong familiarity with why and how it happens and then proceed with a deep and basic solidarity with the people whose actual asses are on the line. Which is why a column like this one would be a lot more persuasive if it weren’t suffused with bitter rage at the mere sight of veiled women in his presence, and if his response to this “aggressive sign of a refusal to integrate or accommodate,” weren’t to take it so personally. And if the sight of a women being hidden from his gaze didn’t so instantly become a “right and proper presumption of guilt,” maybe Hitchens’ own psychodrama wouldn’t seem to be the most obvious place to look for the method in this column’s madness.

There are more drastic ways to reduce educational costs than incremental reductions in pay and in force. As I noted in a prior post, the school district has been experimenting with online courses. With no classrooms and with discussions taking place via blogs and emails, online teachers can be spread more thinly, reducing per-student costs. Then there’s home schooling, which costs the taxpayers nothing at all. I’ve not made a systematic study, but on a cursory review it’s evident that, in comparing course grades and test scores and student satisfaction, the e-learners and the home-schooled achieve equal or better results compared to students in traditional learning environments. I’ve also looked a bit at the impact of differences in teacher quality on student outcomes: again, the results aren’t at all persuasive that better teaching yields better learning. And despite all the advances in pedagogy over the past decades, standardized test results in the US remain steady.

Which brings me to today’s book report.

“In 1818, Joseph Jacotot, a lecturer in French literature at the University of Louvain, had an intellectual adventure.”

Joseph Rancière, former protégé of Marxist philosopher Louis Althusser, presents Jacotot’s adventure as a paradigm for educational overhaul in The Ignorant Schoolmaster: Five Lessons in Intellectual Emancipation (1987). In 1815 Jacotot, a celebrated scholar in France, found himself exiled to Brussels. Knowing no Flemish and having no motivation to learn it, Jacotot assigned his students the task of learning French by studying a bilingual French-Flemish translation of The Telemachy. Jacotot didn’t teach his students The Telemachy, nor did he teach French lessons; he simply told them to learn French by reading the book. Periodically he would ask the students how they were progressing, even though he couldn’t evaluate their self-assessments because he still knew no Flemish. Finally Jacotot asked the students to write, in French, what they thought of the book. The results proved enlightening to Jacotot: the students had learned French without being taught French.

Jacotot’s take-home lesson: it’s not only possible but preferable for a schoolmaster to teach subjects of which he himself is ignorant. Or, to paraphrase a popular slam on the teaching profession, those who can should do, those who can’t should teach. It’s like the Music Man forming a school band from scratch without being able to play a lick himself.

In the usual educational arrangement, the teacher is positioned as the Master of the subject and of explicating the subject to the student. This assignment of roles, said Jacotot, is predicated on an inequality of intelligence between Master and student, an inequality that reflects and perpetuates the hierarchical society which the educational system serves. Even progressives perpetuate the system by instituting one educational reform after another that attempt to redress baseline inequalities between the underprivileged and the elite, reforms that are doomed never to reach the goal of actually achieving equality. Instead of making equality the goal of education, Jacotot assumed equality as a starting-point. All children are perfectly capable of learning their native language without explicitly being taught: why can’t they learn another language, or mathematics, or philosophy, the same way? Give the kids a book and some time, make sure they’re not being lazy and inattentive, and voilà — the students teach themselves. A book is self-explanatory: why stick a Master explicator between the student and the book? The Master implicitly teaches students that they cannot teach themselves, instilling a passivity before recognized experts that’s liable to persist for a lifetime. And it’s in this way that the schools serve as an ideological apparatus of the state: the students’ passive dependence on the Master, the “stultification” of their will and attention, recreates and preserves the broader hierarchical social-economic inequality between the elite and everyone else. In contrast, the self-taught student is “emancipated.” Obliged to engage his own perfectly adequate intelligence rather than relying on the Master’s, the emancipated student enters an educational “circle of power” that includes himself, his fellow students, and his teacher in the joint exercise of intelligence among equals.

“Whoever teaches without emancipation stultifies. And whoever emancipates doesn’t have to worry about what the emancipated person learns. He will learn what he wants, nothing maybe. He will know he can learn because the same intelligence is at work in all the productions of the human mind, and a man can always understand another man’s words.” (p. 18)

“Man is a will served by an intelligence,” Jacotot asserted. Does this mean that the emancipated person who engages his will to learn can accomplish anything he wants? Yes, says Jacotot. Rancière cautions the reader that Jacotot’s teaching method

“is not the key to success granted to the enterprising who explore the prodigious power of the will. Nothing could be more opposed to the thought of emancipation than that advertising slogan… It is undoubtedly true that the ambitious and the conquerors gave ruthless illustration of it. Their passion was an inexhaustible source of ideas, and they quickly understood how to direct generals, scholars, or financiers faultlessly in sciences they did not know. But what interests us is not this theatrical effect. What the ambitious gain in the way of intellectual power by not judging themselves inferior to anyone, they lose by judging themselves superior to everyone else. What interests us is the exploration of the powers of any man when he judges himself equal to everyone else and judges everyone else equal to him. By the will we mean that self-reflection by the reasonable being who knows himself in the act. It is this threshold of rationality, this consciousness of and esteem for the self as a reasonable being acting, that nourishes the movement of the intelligence. The reasonable being is first of all a being who knows his power, who doesn’t lie to himself about it.” (pp. 56-57)

Equality of intelligence among individuals doesn’t mean identity in its application, such that each student learns the same things. Nor does a society comprised of emancipated individuals become an intelligent society. Jacotot’s vision for education and society — and Rancière’s as well — is an anarchism verging on libertarianism, in which individuals pursue their own individual pathways in a milieu of mutual support among equals. Says Jacotot:

“There is no pride in saying out loud: Me too, I’m a painter! Pride consists in saying softly to others: You neither, you aren’t a painter.” (p. 67)

Jacotot knew that the ignorant schoolmaster couldn’t successfully be instituted as a societally mandated model, with the accompanying insistence on certifications and standardized pedagogical techniques and evaluations. Emancipated education can’t be instituted; it can only be practiced, parent to child, ignorant schoolmaster to ignorant student, citizen to citizen.

“[G]overnment doesn’t owe the people an education, for the simple reason that one doesn’t owe people what they can take for themselves. And education is like liberty: it isn’t given; it’s taken.” (pp. 106-107)