As we lament the dwindling American middle class and belatedly acknowledge the end of an era, pop culture has reached the lesser-known eighth and final stage of grieving: nostalgia.

We’ve spent forty-odd years pining for the postwar golden era, that unreal time when every Tom, Dick, and Harry could get a good-paying job; when LGBTQ was merely a game-winning Scrabble score; when ladies kept themselves chaste with some over-the-counter abstinence. But we’re getting over that now. Our most serious pundits and politicians are quick to tell us those jobs ain’t coming back.

And as Dinesh D’Souza can attest, resurgent virtue isn’t on the horizon, either.