Almost every morning as I am shaving, I hear a radio commercial of the sort that produces in me what I call the Dan Rather effect—that is, the urge to talk back to electronic boxes. The message is on behalf of a jewelers’ establishment called Charleston Alexander in Washington, D.C., and it begins with the following boast: “We hold two titles in this town: first, more diamonds in one place than any one place in Washington and, second, price.” After a certain amount of by no means conclusive elaboration on the ambiguity of the second “title,” the ad continues: “And if there was a third title, for loving diamonds, we’d hold that too.” This absurd hypothetical is what brings out the bag-lady in me. “Why not award it to yourself anyway?” I want to shout. Perhaps I do shout. “It’s no less imaginary than the other two!” Titles indeed! What kind of title is it that you make up for yourself? It’s like a boxer who, foiled of a real title, awards himself the titles of Most Talented and Mr. Congeniality.

As usual with those who talk to themselves, doing so is a sign of impotence, if not insanity. The battle is already lost. The self-esteem movement long ago established the absolute right of everyone to claim for himself any number of similarly bogus “titles” or honors—and, of course, the corresponding duty of everyone else to respect them and treat them as if they were real distinctions.