Imani, awesomely: "I don't like to use that much."
Cary, also fairly awesome: "Does it get you into restaurants?"
Look, bro. Imani gets to throw hers around on the rare occasion that somebody like Judge Flamme -- whose white privilege itself allows him to care so deeply about how much "we" owe civil rights activists -- comes up. But you, you carry yours like a crown, and don't even know it's there, because you have no reason to care whether it's there. The stars are aligned such that you -- Cary Agos -- are the baseline human: A white, beautiful, heterosexual man. The rest of us are imperfect copies of you, because you're the one telling the story. Does it get you into fuckin' restaurants? Fuck you!
Um, does your heritage get you into the best colleges so that you can procreate with other rich white people to form rich white dynasties and never pay estate tax on your wealth and continue to go to the best colleges so that you retain the entirety of the deciding power for laws, education and citizenship -- the basic rules of every social structure -- gaming the entire table for centuries until even a "level" playing field would look warped and crazy to a truly objective outsider?
I mean, privilege is like anything else: It's a system that pushes down on all of us, equally, with the weight of history. We all have different strengths and weaknesses that we bring to the table, competitively speaking. I am a man, so I get certain things you don't; you're straight so you get to have things I don't. But in an episode where the Jewish Outsider actually starts a conversation with the Bisexual Woman Of Color about what the hierarchy is, and how you can weasel your way past a Gentile No from baseline-human Will Gardner...
I don't know, I thought the whole Flamme thing ended up really nuanced, a nice little fillip on the whole concept at play. This scene, and the detective at the beginning. And always Diane, saying that women just have to work harder.
That the baseline isn't high enough, excellent enough, challenging enough, to satisfy the rest of us.
Will: "I have been gambling all night, but not to a problem extent."
Celeste: "Come back to this poker after whatever the next mixer is. And hey, if you don't want to be the Commissioner of Baseball, how about a Sorcerer's Apprentice? Power to make brooms dance?"
Will: "Nope, I'm good."
Celeste: "How about the power of talking to animals, would you like that? Or I could make you the next Vice President of Valenzuela."
Will: "Celeste, I'm perfectly happy where I am, you loonybird. And I'm not particularly interested in being your gambling buddy again, either."
Celeste: "Okay, but I'll hear from you on the baseball commissioner job?"
Will: "Celeste, no! I didn't like this life, not even when I was living it. I didn't like not knowing when I was being conned or conning."