It occurred to me the other day one of the oddest things about fascists is their apparent opposition to joy. I’m not even talking about their reaction to street protests full of sharply-written signs, music, and camaraderie. I’m talking about how they respond to simple, everyday joy. Reading a good book, having a coffee at your favorite haunt, ice cream on a hot day, texting with your friends. Just doing the things that please you, as yourself, with (or without) people you love. This seems to pi...