Worth reading. I really, really, really wish I could write like Digby.

As a liberal who’s been watching all this take place over the course of half a century now, I am thrilled at the prospect of crossing those boundaries with an African American or female president. But the sexism and racism we’ve seen in the campaign so far is a reminder that these things don’t happen by magic or positive thinking. (Look at the racial make up of the prison population or the gender pay gap for illustration.) They happen because people are always out there fighting for it, over time, vigilantly manning the barricades against the conservative aristocrats (there aren’t any other kind) and the people they purposefully manipulate with fear to keep full equality and true liberty from coming to fruition.

And sadly, those who do that fighting are often considered to be “unamerican” and “unpatriotic” because by demanding that America change, they are making a case that America is not perfect. For the chauvinist, nationalist, exceptionalist right, (and the mindbogglingly provincial thinkers in the village) that is something you are not allowed to admit.

I don’t know WTF this woman’s problem was on the New Jersey Transit train this morning. I take NJ Transit every morning from Penn Station to Newark. Each row of seats on the train has five seats — two on one side and three on the other, with an aisle in between. Nobody ever sits in the middle seat of a three-seat section unless there are two or three people traveling together. It’s just an unwritten rule. Nobody does it.

So this morning I’m one of the first people on the train and I take a window seat on an empty group of three seats. I put my bag on the middle seat next to me, because, again, nobody’s gonna sit there. It just never happens.

A few minutes later, a guy comes by and sits in the aisle seat, leaving an empty seat between us. That’s fine. Standard procedure.

Then, a couple more minutes later, this woman comes by and asks the guy if he can move down so she can sit in the row too. WTF? Why can’t she keep walking down the aisle and into the next car to see if there are any other empty seats? She’s not elderly or disabled or anything. She’s about my age. Anyway, like a mindless automaton, the guy moves over to the middle seat to make room for her. So I’m cramped up against the window. It could be worse — I could be stuck in the middle seat like the guy next to me. But she’s broken a social rule, dammit.

I notice that there’s only one person sitting in the triple seat in front of us, next to the window. So I point to the empty aisle seat in that row and say (nicely and helpfully, I thought), “You know, there’s an empty seat there if you wanted to make some more room.” She looks at me as if I’ve insulted her grandma and responds, “It’s going to be a crowded train anyway,” or something like that. What the hell? It’s going to be a crowded train anyway? Who is this person?

Sure enough, a minute later someone comes by and sits in the row in front of us. And sure enough, none of the other additional people getting on the train goes to any other row to try to take a middle seat or make anyone else take a middle seat. No, only the stubborn mule at the end of the row I happen to be in.

And the stupid peon sitting next to me in the middle seat just sits there dumbly and suffers in silence. Thanks a lot, jerk. So much for solidarity. You just sit there and passively accept your fate? What is this, the Soviet Union?

When we pull into Newark I’m the only one of three of us disembarking. So both of them have to get up so I can get out of my seat and off the train.

Hah! I sure showed them. They both had to get up for me!

I take my victories where I can find them. Walter Mitty would know what I mean.

The New York Times discovers college a cappella.

“There’s something about a cappella that rubs a lot of people the wrong way,” said Mr. Coulton, who performed on world tours with the Whiffenpoofs and on an album called “Take a Whiff.”

“When you’re in it,” he said, “you do think you’re a rock star. But you have to ignore the majority of the population who don’t want you singing jazz standards at their dinner.”

Here’s my college a cappella story, by the way.