If I’ve learned anything in fifty-odd years and who says I have? it’s that no matter what you do, someone will find a reason to object to it:
I hadn’t had breakfast, and was hungry after dropping off McGillicuddy, so I walked the few blocks to the main commercial thoroughfare in the neighborhood, and went to the only place that was open at 8 AM, which was McDonald’s. Until we moved here, I would go to McDonald’s maybe once every five or six years, but things really change when you move to the greater U.S.A. I remember mentioning this to Really Rosie once, and she scolded me, saying, “Haven’t you read Fast Food Nation?” In fact I have, and so I know that McDonald’s is destroying not only American society but also the entire universe. Nonetheless, I’m not a great believer in the efficacy of ideological boycotts, especially when you’re hungry and it’s the only game in town. We boycotted Nestlé when I was little because of their greedy, unethical formula-pushing in maternity wards in Africa, which led to the deaths of thousands of infants; but it occurs to me now that few people who boycott Nestlé probably believe that abortion should be banned, which raises inevitable questions about the efficacy of such protests. About boycotting, I guess I have a sort of “circumcise your hearts” attitude.
I’m not particularly keen on boycotts, though there are some places and some institutions I would happily see uprooted and dispatched to Moon Base Gingrich. As I grumbled back in ought-five:
“Boycotts,” some girl once said, “are etymologically sexist.”
I wouldn’t know about that, but it’s been a long time since I felt compelled to take part in one: it’s not so much a consistent policy of refusing to take part so much as it is a nagging suspicion that most of them are intended, not to get an organization to alter its plans, but to get publicity for the group engaging in the boycott.
I do, however, have two characteristics valued by would-be boycotters: my memory is fairly long, and my ability to hold a grudge is fairly strong.