Years ago, when I taught high school English, I assigned students to write an essay about some real person they considered to be a hero, and why. I met with each student beforehand to discuss their choice, to ensure they understood the assignment and were going in the right direction.
And when a boy named Jim said his hero was Jean-Claude Van Damme, I asked him why.
He talked about all the characters the actor played, and how much he liked those characters.
“Well, that’s fine,” I said, “but those are fictional characters. What is it about Van Damme that makes him a hero to you?”
Jim’s eyes went blank, as if I were suddenly speaking French.
“Look,” I said, “an actor pretends to be someone else. He recites lines that were probably written by someone else, so he personally might not even agree with what his character is saying. He says it because he’s paid to say it. He’s paid to say it because you pay to hear him say it.”
Jim’s eyes started to widen, as if he had never considered such a concept.
“But I’m not saying Van Damme can’t be your hero,” I said. “What has he done personally that makes him heroic to you? Did he overcome some hurdle to become an actor, like stuttering or shyness? Or maybe just the hard work it took to build and maintain his body? Some struggle in his upbringing or family life that he overcame?”
Jim slowly shook his head, his eyes wider still with a new understanding. “I think I’ll pick someone else,” he said, and we set up another meeting for the next day, so he could think it over. I guess he thought that research into the real Van Damme might tarnish his on-screen persona.
My mind leaped to that meeting today when I read, of all things, about the troubles of “My Pillow” chief executive Mike Lindell. It’s an odd leap, I know, but stick with me.
Lindell is facing defamation lawsuits filed by Smartmatic and Dominion Voting Machine Systems, against whom he allegedly spread lies about rigging the 2020 presidential election to steal the victory from Trump, falsehoods that hurt those companies’ profits.
Dominion has already won an $800 million suit against Fox News for such defamation, and now it’s Lindell’s turn in a billion-dollar suit. Trump allies Rudy Giuliani and Sydney Powell face a similar 1.3 billion-dollar suit.
Lindell’s troubles have only gotten deeper now that his lawyers want to jump off the sinking ship because he can’t pay them to do their job. “I ran out of money,” Lindell says. “I have no money personally. Nothing left.”
And whose fault is that?
According to Lindell, the fault is not his, but yours and mine.
That’s because you and I and millions of Americans like us have decided not to buy his pillows, for reasons that are yours and mine to decide, but are likely related to his outrageous opinions—opinions amplified by the money you and I gave him for the fine pillows he creates.
And if our money gave him a megaphone to open his opinion-hole on TV and in social media, withholding our money can pull the plug.
But to Lindell, our refusing to buy his pillows makes him a victim of “cancel culture.”
Look, it’s one thing to topple statues of former American heroes who lived by the legal rules of a bygone era, erasing their memories from history just because we no longer honor those values. Or to prevent qualified speakers from appearing on college campuses just because their opinions might create an uncomfortable atmosphere. Exercising that kind of “cancel culture” is going a bridge too far.
But is there anything wrong with refusing to buy a product because your dollars would only amplify the disagreeable nonsense of that company’s CEO? I have friends who never drink Coors beer or eat Oberweis ice cream for those reasons alone.
We never would have heard Mike Lindell’s absurd delusional opinions if he didn’t have hundreds of millions of our dollars to make those opinions known. And he only got those millions from you and me because he knew how to make good pillows.
And that’s why I thought about that high school writing assignment about heroes when I read about Lindell’s problems, because it’s the same way with actors in Hollywood, isn’t it? They get rich and famous because we pay them to speak words written by some other smart person, but does their wealth and fame make their political opinions any more astute than yours or mine? Is there even a brain rattling around in that pretty head when they wander out of their lane and exit extreme left or right?
Is there anything wrong with our saying, “Oh, shut up and act already. Save your personal politics for the polling place.” Are you and I guilty of cancel culture if we decide we really don’t want to see any more of that actor’s films?
I’m guessing Mike Lindell didn’t rush out to see the next Jane Fonda film once she started flapping her liberal gums about politics. I’m guessing he didn’t buy a lot more Dixie Chicks CD’s once their headlines moved from Arts and Entertainment to Political Commentary.
And if you didn’t embrace their art anymore, was that “cancel culture,” Mike?
You’re a great pillow maker, Mike. Your pillows have helped millions of Americans sleep better.
But you’re a lousy businessman if you think giving us acid reflux with your crazy conspiracy theories will enhance our sleep — or your bottom line.
And you’re an even worse American if you fault us for expressing our opinions with our pocketbooks, just as you have done.
TR Kerth is the author of the book “Revenge of the Sardines.” Contact him at trkerth@yahoo.com.
