I’ve thought that for a while now. Rudeness doesn’t come from a place of strength. A person who feels empowered to affect their environment doesn’t need to be rude. Maybe they still will be, but the rudeness of the powerful is more likely to be thoughtlessness; they are too oriented to their own goals to pay enough attention to others.

Active rudeness, though, comes from the powerless. It’s their way of shoving back against a world that shoves them around every day. It’s why the voices of the poor are louder than the voices of the rich. It’s why the wealthy go to symphony and the poor blast Eminem. FUCK YOU. I AM HERE AND YOU WILL NOT IGNORE ME. Those who feel powerful don’t need to make that assertion. Of course they won’t be ignored. Their hourly rates or their books or the message that their groomed and well-clad bodies send ensure that.

To be courteous you have to feel strong. You have to believe that your words and actions affect others. (Remember the brilliant “30 Rock” when Liz goes to her high-school reunion, only to discover that the popular girls had actually been terrified of her and her sharp tongue? She’d assumed nothing her dorky self would say could have ever hurt them.) You have to believe that you have agency, that you can act, not merely react to circumstances. You have to believe that you have other ways of getting status and attention — which we all need — besides impinging on the physical or psychological space of others.

I’ve been thinking about that for a long time, and this article on Salon, about an unemployed man’s little compensatory ritual of rudeness, spurred me to put it into words.

A Facebook friend of mine recently posted the following quote by Anna Deavere Smith: “Grace is in how we treat each other when we could choose to exert power and we find another way.” I don’t know the context, so I don’t know if I agree with the statement or not, but I think it’s a lot easier to be graceful when you have access to legitimate avenues of power.

People who don’t get listened to start to scream.

People who aren’t given enough space start to push.

People who get cut out of the main action will start their own. And you may not like it.

What are your thoughts?

If you’ve been enjoying the Parker and Saki references of late — their succinct wit, their keen social observations — you might also enjoy the classic movie “The Man in the White Suit”:

Alec Guinness delivers one of his most beloved performances in this smart satirical comedy that pits a mild-mannered but single-minded inventor against the forces of Britain’s textile industry. Sidney Stratton (Guinness) is a brilliant if under appreciated research chemist on a quest to bring progress to mankind by inventing a new kind of fabric that never gets dirty and never wears out. When he finally succeeds, he is hailed a genius. But both textile manufacturers and labor unions soon come to realize that his miracle cloth could destroy their industry, and resort to desperate measures to make sure his invention never gets to market.

“Man in the White Suit” is going to kick off Coolidge Corner’s “Science on Screen” series on September 6, and will feature a post-show talkback featuring Mr. Improbable himself. Check out the theater’s description- — they’ve got a great page, including a trailer from the film — and perhaps I’ll see you there, yes?

I’ll be chatting live today from noon-1pm EST. Come on by and sound off on the issues of the day! We always have fun at our chats.

“Leonard Bilsiter was one of those people who have failed to find this world attractive or interesting, and who have sought compensation in an ‘unseen world’ of their own experience or imagination — or invention. Children do that sort of thing successfully, but children are content to convince themselves, and do not vulgarize their beliefs by trying to convince others.”

– “The She-Wolf,” Saki (H.H. Munro)

There are an unfortunate number of Leonard Bilsiters in the world, aren’t there, dear readers?

I don’t know why I’m in such short-story mode this week, but if you’ve never read Saki, or perhaps only read one or two of his stories in high school, you ought to go back and take another look. He’s a bit like Jane Austen crossed with Stephen King, only less wordy than either of them.

I run a reader question every Monday on my boston.com blog, and I’ve got to say I’m a little bit in love with today’s question. Go read.

The writing style of it reminds me exactly of this fantastic short story by Dorothy Parker, “From the Diary of a New York Lady During Days of Horror, Despair, and World Change.” Go read that, too. It’s quite short, and could have been written yesterday.

… is online here.

Ramadan mobarak to my Muslim friends and readers. I hope your daytime fasting is easy. I hope I can manage to keep my mouth shut when I see hijabis at my gym — I worry about them, exercising in this heat when they don’t hydrate! (Jewish worriers and Muslimah athletes are a bad combination during Ramadan.)

… because I’ve got a good conversation topic perking along at the other blog. Go share!

… thank you.

Today, I decided to combine Milo’s morning walk with a trip to the library to return a book. This meant that I was juggling, in addition to Milo’s gear, a rather weighty hardback.* So I appreciated your stopping to let us cross the street.

I gave you my usual thank-you wave, and only subsequently realized that because of all the things I was carrying, I waved at you with the hand that was holding a fat, bright blue poop bag.

Although I am not an anthropologist, I am a social scientist, and I do not know of any cultures in which waving dog excrement at someone’s face is a sign of friendly gratitude. That is, however, the spirit in which it was intended.

I hope you understand.

*The Story of Edgar Sawtelle, if you’re interested. It’s remaindered now for less than the amount of the fines I have undoubtedly racked up on it. It’s a bit of a slow read.

The New York Times published a thought-provoking op-ed a couple of days ago about burnout among the clergy:

But there’s a more fundamental problem that no amount of rest and relaxation can help solve: congregational pressure to forsake one’s highest calling.

The pastoral vocation is to help people grow spiritually, resist their lowest impulses and adopt higher, more compassionate ways. But churchgoers increasingly want pastors to soothe and entertain them. It’s apparent in the theater-style seating and giant projection screens in churches and in mission trips that involve more sightseeing than listening to the local people.

As a result, pastors are constantly forced to choose, as they work through congregants’ daily wish lists in their e-mail and voice mail, between paths of personal integrity and those that portend greater job security. As religion becomes a consumer experience, the clergy become more unhappy and unhealthy.

Surely, clergy are not the only people who are burned out not because they work too hard at their jobs, but because they cannot do their jobs to their own satisfaction. Teachers and writers who are under similar pressure to dumb down, cheer up, and keep it simple, stupid. Doctors who can’t spend more than 10 minutes with a patient because of insurance regulations.

People who have to ignore their calling in order to keep their job.