Category: stupidity

The Stupid Factor

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When, in the course of human history, people coalesce around a cause, invariably, it is the fringe and fanatical that visit shame and derision on said cause.

Case in point:

Climate change is real. To assume otherwise is to ignore both established science and our own eyes. Further, and this is also beyond argument, climate change is linked to humans—the extent to which that link is made, whether larger or smaller, can be debated. The fact remains that human action has influenced our climate; our climate is changing, and barring any technological leap in space travel, we have but this one planet on which to live.

There are several sources to this statement (Indian and Greek, among others), but the sentiment is the same:

“A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they will never sit.”

Whether it is the group Just Stop Oil or Riposte Alimentaire, I believe in their causes. However, I also know that while fossil fuels are limited in their amount worldwide and the cause of enormous amounts of pollution, I also know that neither Van Gough, Da Vinci, nor Monet will be painting anything ever again. Throwing paint or soup at these masterpieces does two things.

First, it brings attention to the cause. I would argue in the wrong way. Again, I believe in their cause. However, their cause, while not getting nearly enough meaningful action from politicians and nations, is not a generally unknown niche item. Everyone has heard about climate change. You don’t need to draw attention to it as if it’s been wallowing in a distant dark corner. You are turning millions of like-minded individuals from standing with you. They want to crawl into a hole to avoid being associated with you and your idiotic stunt.

Second, I believe the attention you ultimately sought with your stunt had less to do with your cause and more to do with you having your picture taken standing next to a disfigured masterpiece covered in paint or soup while you gloomily pose, maybe glued to the frame.

Grassroots activism takes organization and time. It takes determination and persistence. Ultimately, it takes moving the Overton Window so politicians feel they must be part of your movement. And that comes from the inside. It comes from boldly participating in legislative hearings. It comes from lobbying legislators at all levels repeatedly. It does not come from petitions or stunts.

We need change on many social issues, not the least of which are climate change for the planet and gun violence in America. Mothers Against Drunk Driving set the template for success. Moms Demand Action, Everytown, and other gun violence groups have adopted that template. Just Stop Oil and Riposte Alimentaire may have arms of their organizations that attempt the same measures as these more successful organizations. All I know is what I see on the news. And the photos I see on the news, especially as an art lover, make me cringe. The tiny conspiracy theorist in the back of my head wonders whether these stunts because they are so antithetical to the genuinely just cause, are backed by the petroleum industry to discredit all climate change activists. I hope I’m wrong.

Either way, stop gluing yourself to paintings, throwing paint on masterpieces, and throwing food at art. You look like an idiot and damage your supposed cause. These masterpieces have survived (so far) because art restoration professionals consider it an honor and duty to protect and preserve the art. The activists should adopt that level of care and dedication, again, in whose cause I believe, before a masterpiece is lost because of their stunts. Passion alone will not win the day. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. One cannot plant a tree tomorrow morning and expect to sit in its shade in the afternoon.  

Kiss it Goodbye

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The youth of today, and for this discussion, this includes anyone who’s never held their favorite music in their hand (album, 8-track, cassette, CD), don’t understand how recorded music was appreciated in the time before the internet and streaming. I grew up in the age of mixtapes which involved recording songs from the radio (remember radio?) with the deft dexterity of a neurosurgeon. And…hit…..Play AND Record at the same moment! Who didn’t feel like Casey Casum when they nailed it?

My musical education is partly due to the Columbia House ten cassettes for a penny club we badgered our parents into joining. Research and hard decisions in my youth involved selecting my three-item allotment from Columbia House and being honest on my MLB All-Star selection ballot (and not voting for every Cincinnati Red nominated).  I mention music because one of the few albums we had growing up was Hotel California by the Eagles. To be fair, my parents also had Rubber Soul and Led Zeppelin IV on vinyl and Sgt Pepper on 8-track. My sister was/is an Eagles fanatic (along with a certifiably insane Keith Richards fanboy). I can’t tell you how many times we listened to Hotel California. One of the songs I loved was The Last Resort. Being born and raised in Rhode Island, I was thrilled that music royalty was singing about my home, Rhode Island. And because I knew the immigrant stories of my family and those of most families I knew, the song’s opening verse touched me:

She came from Providence

One in Rhode Island

Where the old world shadows hang

Heavy in the air

The song, written by Glen Frey and Don Henley, describes man’s ugly takeover of nature’s pristine beauty. Specifically, California, and the migration of people searching for a new beginning in a “new” land.

She packed her hopes and dreams

Like a refugee

Just as her father came across the sea

She heard about a place

People were smiling

They spoke about the red man’s way

And how they loved the land

            They came from everywhere

To the Great Divide

Seeking a place to stand

Or a place to hide

Word spreads about such places, and the throngs of people descend on it like locusts eating everything in their path.

Down in the crowded bars

Out for a good time

Can’t wait to tell you all

What it’s like up there

They called it paradise

I don’t know why

Somebody laid the mountains low

While the town got high

And this migration, like wildfire, doesn’t stop until it hits the ocean.

Then the chilly winds blew down

Across the desert

Through the canyons of the coast

To the Malibu

Where the pretty people play

Hungry for power

To light their neon way

Give them things to do

Some rich men came and raped the land

Nobody caught ’em

Put up a bunch of ugly boxes

And Jesus people bought ’em

And they called it paradise

The place to be

They watched the hazy sun

Sinking in the sea

And here’s where the story becomes painful. In the age before the internet and before you had lyrics to every song seconds away on your cell phone, we sang what we heard or misheard. The internet is filled with videos of people singing incorrect lyrics. Yes, it’s funny now! But before you could access the lyrics, you heard what you heard and belted it out as best you could. The next two verses always confused me. I should say I felt stupid not understanding what they were referencing. I assumed “La Hina” was a town in California. It wasn’t until years later that I learned Lahaina is a town on the island of Maui in Hawaii.

You can leave it all behind

Sail to Lahaina

Just like the missionaries did

So many years ago

They even brought a neon sign

“Jesus is coming”

Brought the white man’s burden down

Brought the white man’s reign

Before COVID-19 shut down society, and before masks and vaccines began to pull those who cared about their families and neighbors out of the pandemic abyss, my wife and I went on our honeymoon to Hawaii. We stayed in Oahu and Maui. We rented a Jeep Wrangler on Maui and, on our last day, drove across the island to Lahaina. I wanted a picture of a sign with Lahaina on it to send to my sister, an ode to our childhood listening to the Eagles. We walked Front Street, marveled at the city block-sized banyan tree, bought cookies at the Honolulu Cookie Company store, shopped at the Outlets of Maui, and ate dinner as the sun sank into the sea at the Waikiki Brewing Company. As we sat there waiting for dinner to be served, across the street, we saw the most incredible sunset I’ve ever seen.

I grew up in a tourist town, Newport, RI. And as much as I hated the traffic and the crowds of pretty people, I also knew their money was the economy’s lifeblood. When I heard about the wildfires whipping across Hawaii, and first heard Lahaina mentioned, I could only hope the town would be spared. The pandemic was savage to many industries, with tourism among the hardest hit. In addition to the catastrophic human toll the virus exacted, we all know of restaurants and stores that also did not survive. To have a wildfire threaten the fragile economy of Lahaina seemed as cruel as it was unfair. And then I saw the photos.

Nothing of what I remember exists any longer. It’s all gone. As of this writing, eighty people have lost their lives, with more expected as homes reduced to ash are searched. Front Street is a warzone of burned-out cars beside the mangled remains of homes and businesses. The banyan tree was scorched and may not survive. The Honolulu Cookie Company, the Outlets of Maui, and the Waikiki Brewing Company not only burned to the ground, but with the utter devastation and destroyed infrastructure, people do not yet know if their friends and coworkers survived. My heart breaks for everyone there. Hell came to Lahaina this week and took everything.

Climate change is real. Humans as a contributing factor is undeniable. Warnings of tipping points have been ignored. Water temperatures in the Gulf of Mexico exceed 100 degrees in some areas. We have had the hottest weather ever recorded, worldwide. And yet, we continue to ignore the issue and marvel at the consequences with willful ignorance and feigned confusion.

The last four verses of the song, without mentioning it, describe climate change and our greedy abdication of responsibility. However, instead of a coastline, when you read these last verses below, consider they are singing about planet Earth.

Who will provide the grand design?

What is yours and what is mine?

‘Cause there is no more new frontier

We have got to make it here

We satisfy our endless needs

And justify our bloody deeds

In the name of destiny

And in the name of God

And you can see them there

On Sunday morning

Stand up and sing about

What it’s like up there

They call it paradise

I don’t know why

You call someplace paradise

Kiss it goodbye

There are no new frontiers. We have got to make it here.

Or kiss it goodbye.

My Generational Fallacy

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Maxwell and Finnegan

I am a middle-aged white man. And I can recognize some, but not all, of the societal privileges afforded to me for no other reason than I am a white man. I feel it is important to establish that upfront. I have accomplished things in life partly due to my efforts and partly because of my accident of birth. Accident of birth. What else can I call it? In addition to being born a white male, I was also born in the United States. Again, not of my choosing. But here I am, and I accept the failings in my life as my burden, my fault. I take full ownership of my failures but share my victories as being due to my efforts, others’ efforts, white privilege, and the combination of those factors occurring here in the United States.

The paragraph above is enough to exclude me from the Libertarian party, who believe they alone are responsible for the air they breathe, and they’d like you to thank them for making enough for you like it’s Reardon Steel.

With that backdrop established, let me tell you a little about my upbringing. My first best friend was black. We shared the same first name. When he or I moved away, I’m not sure what happened (I was young and cursed with a terrible memory), my next best friend was Jewish. And the thing is, it didn’t matter. I didn’t care. Or I hadn’t learned from society to hate yet. The only thing I now hate is willful ignorance. I learned so much from my friend about Judaism, its holidays, and the amazing food! I was raised Catholic (as was most of the state in which I was raised). I assumed everyone was Catholic. It wasn’t until much later that I learned Catholicism was itself but a branch of Christianity and Christianity a branch of organized religion.

Throughout my life, until I was probably 30 years old, I assumed that the problems of the past were destined to be solved by my generation. Racism being foremost in my mind and the easiest to solve. It was just wrong! That’s easy to fix, I thought. It was, I thought, the low-hanging fruit of justice, and I assumed I no longer lived in a country responsible for strange fruit (listen to the song). I also thought later in life that gun violence in America would be easily fixed after 26 first and second-graders (and educators) were slaughtered at Sandy Hook in Newtown, CT. In both situations, I learned there was a generational fallacy in my thinking. I assumed my and subsequent cohorts, armed with better information, compassion, and the benefit of 20/20 hindsight, would see the obvious path to social justice. How I was wrong! Chronological snobbery? Maybe. I now believe it is a combination of regional biases and willful intransigence that prevents solving society’s problems.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. would be 94 years old now if he had not been murdered at age 39 in 1968. What he did, what all who fought for civil rights in America in the 1950s and 1960s, and accomplished, cannot be appreciated using today’s time prism. The Overton Window has undoubtedly shifted on civil rights and many other topics.  What they accomplished then, at great personal risk and, for some, with their lives, is monumental. However, the Overton Window is not a slider moving in one direction but a pendulum constantly swinging between the warmth of progress and the cold intransigence of those benefiting from the status quo. “Make America Great Again” is the most recent example of this philosophical ossification. “Progress” is seen as a threat to their privilege. Equity and equality are, ironically, seen as unfair. Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion programs are seen as nefarious as Affirmative Action. After George Floyd was murdered by the police, DE&I programs blossomed nationwide, and workplaces and communities benefited from new thinking. Unfortunately, today we see the pendulum swinging the other way and DE&I programs being cut in red states all across an even more divided America.

I saw an interview with Martin Sheen recently. He has been arrested for protesting more times than he can count. And it has cost him roles. He said, “If what you believe doesn’t cost you anything, then you’re left to question its value.” He is 83 years old now. And I couldn’t help but appreciate his passion.

I confess to being a West Wing fanatic. I adored that show (especially the first four seasons written by Aaron Sorkin). I think the season finale of the second season (Two Cathedrals) is the best episode of television ever created. That said, and while I remain a devout fan, I also think it ruined politics for me and a generation of those like me. I assumed life was a meritocracy and not the plutocracy and cleptocracy it truly is. I appreciated the sincere debate depicted in the show and assumed that was how politics worked. Today, there is no debate, only sound bites, social media gotcha’s, net zero wins, and tribalism, where a foundation of facts cannot be agreed upon. We can’t even agree on what is a fact!

Martin Sheen lives how Aaron Sorkin writes.

Contrast that with today’s news that 25-year-old NASCAR driver Noah Gragson was suspended indefinitely for liking a disgusting meme laughing about George Floyd’s death. He’s 25 years old. So, no, I no longer believe my generation will solve society’s ills no more than I think my children’s generation (or Noah Gragson’s) will move us forward.

They say the first step in solving a problem is acknowledging there is a problem. We haven’t graduated from that simple first step.  There is no low-hanging fruit when those on the other side will embrace any atrocity rather than let you “win.” And for that, society loses.

My generational fallacy has cost me. Not as much as those in the fight every day. It is a cost for which I feel the need to apologize. It has cost me from seeing the issues clearer. Evidence of that is easy to see. Reread this and count the number of times I say a version of “assume.” However, contrary to the familiar American saying, in this case, it has only made an ass out of me.  I hope to do better. I dream of our country doing better. And now, not generationally.

One Thing

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One thing. Name one thing great about America? One thing? Name one thing we all agree is great about America. I’ll wait.

I went to the grocery store again. And, again, over 90% of people were not wearing masks. Why? Because we got bored, we’re selfish, and we all know better. Except boredom is not an excuse, narcissism is ignorance, and we don’t know better. Madison Cawthorn, the moronic Ken doll in a wheelchair from North Carolina, said as soon as the Republicans regain control of Congress, he’ll bring Dr. Fauci up on charges. Republicans aren’t bored; they’re ignorant, dangerous, and vindictive—freedom at any cost, including the labored death of 700,000 Americans.

One thing. I’m still waiting.

There are parts of the world dying for the vaccine. And yet we have 70 million self-appointed physicians in America who have decided, based on their evidence-based research, that COVID-19 is a hoax, the vaccine makes you magnetic, contains a microchip, and is part of a globalist control program. The virus is ravaging parts of Africa. Our federal government is sending millions of doses of the vaccine across the globe because our citizens are too stupid to help themselves.

Do you know what Americans send to Africa? Bibles. Do you know what corporate America sees Africa as? A market. The problem is Africans can’t afford to buy anything we want to sell them. Do you know what China thinks of Africa? They think of them as resource-rich partners. All our cell phones, televisions, talking refrigerators, and sentient washing machines require minerals and raw materials found in Africa. Guess where all these products America craves are made? China. China buys the resources from Africa. With money. China gives cash to Africa. Not bibles. The people of Africa can purchase food with cash. They can’t eat bibles.

The asshole carrying his boom-boom stick AR-15 in Starbucks is the “good guy with a gun,” he’ll tell us. Except there’s no flashing purple light over his head or a vaccine card to verify it for those of us who just see a weapon of war in a coffee shop. It’s the same with masks. Maybe everyone in the grocery store is double vaccinated and has qualified for the booster. But there’s no flashing purple light over their head. I don’t trust you. Sorry. I wear a mask to protect those too stupid to believe in science and their fellow neighbors and family members. And for those under 12 unable to be vaccinated yet. And for those with compromised immune systems leaving them vulnerable. You’re not because why? Oh, you know better? No. You don’t care.

What constitutes American exceptionalism? Still waiting. Oh, I know what they’ll say. “If it’s so bad, why don’t you leave? America is the home of the free because of the brave!” Fuck you. If people like me leave, that only lowers the national IQ and it’s already hovering dangerously close to the floor. So, no, I’m not going.

And stop taxing your tiny brains. There is no one great thing about America. American exceptionalism is a fantasy broadcast by the right and the ignorant to cover up an infantile worldview and those with an absolute abdication of responsibility. American exceptionalism isn’t a reality. It’s a goal. But goals cannot be achieved if the lowest common denominators make policy in the absence of fact, truth, and understanding and in the presence of fantasy, jingoism, and malice.

One thing. Couldn’t do it.

Freedom…

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The First Amendment to the United States Constitution reads:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

The Second Amendment to the United States Constitution reads:

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

Can someone, perhaps a Constitutional scholar (or someone who attended the University of Hard Knocks because, apparently, that’s the same thing), explain to me how these “rights” as written by James Monroe came to be interpreted as freedom from responsibility? Please?

Reeling from a global pandemic, science handed us a way out. And it was made free and accessible to everyone! And yet, after sitting on our asses for a year, we cannot be bothered to get vaccinated. We can’t be bothered to do what is right for our family, our neighbors, our nation, the world. Because FREEDOM! But freedom from what? Can someone answer that question? What’s the end of that phrase? Freedom from what? 

I see yard signs now saying UNMASK OUR CHILDREN! Unmask? Oh, you mean to leave the decision to protect your child, my family, and everyone too stupid to vaccinate themselves to you and your internet search medical degree?

I still wear a mask inside stores. Do you know why? I’m vaccinated! The CDC says I no longer need to wear a mask indoors. I wear the mask indoors for two reasons. First, because the vaccine has provided cover for those too selfish to vaccinate themselves; in other words, those unvaccinated can claim to be vaccinated and therefore no longer need to wear a mask indoors. I wear a mask indoors with those I do not know because I do not trust them. Their freedom from responsibility leaves them vulnerable to the virus and a prime candidate to join 600,000 other dead Americans. And, honestly, I’m done worrying about their lives. If they’re too selfish and cloaked in the wisdom granted by the Fox News science and medical experts Tucker Carlson, Laura Ingraham, and Sean Hannity, I don’t care if they live or die. Just as they have rid themselves of caring whether I live or die. Second, I wear the mask because I could be carrying the virus and be asymptomatic due to the vaccine. Despite my anger at the unvaccinated, I wear it to protect them from me.

 Freedom from responsibility has replaced both the first and second Amendments. We have the freedom to say and do anything we want, but we now assume it was granted without responsibility. No blowback is expected or appreciated. We have been locked indoors for a year. And when finally bored enough, we ventured out. Some of us were vaccinated. But the bored move about freely. And as soon as we ventured out of our homes, we did so, not with the vaccine, but with our guns. Free to leave our homes, Americans are now subjected to multiple mass shootings a day. Because Freedom! But, again, no one finishes that phrase. Freedom from what, if not responsibility?

I weigh too much. Guess what? It’s because I overeat. Not because of my boss, my spouse, my government, or my family. And guess what? When I take responsibility for my weight and eat better foods and less of it, I lose weight! If I eat red meat, there is a chance my heart will suffer, or my cells may rebel in cancer. The danger I am subjecting others to is limited. My family will suffer my loss. But my job will be filled within a week, and the world will carry on. However, not vaccinating myself leaves me vulnerable, along with everyone with whom I come in contact. The danger is expanded exponentially—the exposed beyond just me. And to do that to others is selfish and devoid of responsibility. 

The irony of this situation is that those refusing to be vaccinated directly infringe on my freedoms! I may soon be required to wear a mask everywhere again because the unvaccinated will drive us back into restrictions and lockdowns. I did the right thing for everyone, but I may soon be restricted from moving about freely because of the unvaccinated.

The first definition of socialism in the Merriam-Webster dictionary defines socialism as:

Any of the various economic and political theories advocating collective or governmental ownership and administration of the means of production and distribution of goods.

Can we agree that seatbelts are a socialistic response to automobile injuries and deaths? Can we agree that highways are a socialistic response to bad roads being too expensive for each of us to build alone? Can we agree that the military that the right fawns over and spends almost a trillion dollars on a year is a socialistic response to existential or dogmatic geopolitical threats? If so, can we not also agree that solutions to problems need to be made on a granular level exclusive of a nation’s political definition? Can we agree that it is possible and appropriate to have a socialistic response to a problem within a democratic republic? That perhaps reductio ad absurdum or ad hominem arguments against proper answers to issues are simpleminded, foolhardy, and just plain wrong?   

 My rights are being infringed as a vaccinated citizen both by those who will not vaccinate themselves and those who think a gun gives them power and absolution. Freedom from responsibility is now the American creed. 

2022

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Winston Smith awoke from his nap, the tattered science textbook still resting on his chest. It rose and fell with his breathing, the paper-thin book jacket waving in time with his exhalations.

It was dangerous enough to be napping during the day, especially this day, but to have been caught with that volume in his possession would have been personally devastating. Fortunately, it was still mid-morning, and the Happiness Squads hadn’t begun their daily sweeps. He hadn’t slept well the previous night, and it had caught up with him after his breakfast sank into his belly.

Today was the anniversary of the rebellion, a day when “spontaneous” celebrations and protests erupted across the new nation in honor of the heroes of the previous year. The migration and funerals paused on this day. Everything paused.

Winston looked at his upper arm. The redness had subsided from the previous day. In another day or so, there would be no evidence of his insubordination, no way to identify him as one of “them.”

It still struck him as strange. He thought again of the science textbook now safely tucked under the floorboards in the bedroom. Cancer, he had read, was the process of mass replication of mindless cells with the ultimate, suicidal goal of killing its host. His mind made the connection before he had the chance to consider it. How similar was that metaphor to what had happened over the past few years, but especially the past year?

He looked at the paperboard flyer everyone had received in the mail still sitting on his kitchen table. The Happiness Squad would be by shortly to ensure it had been placed in a prominent place. He thought of the mantle, the refrigerator, the door. Getting up, he picked up the placard and decided on the door. That way, he could see it both when passing by the door and, especially, as the last thing before leaving his apartment. He read the words out loud to himself:

Science is fiction.
Freedom is ignorance.
Ignorance is strength.
God trumps all.
Trump is God.

Following last year’s purge (or emergency recall elections, as they were called), evangelicals, once a fringe group of mystics and non-taxed mass delusion peddlers, now comprised 100% of the Senate following last Spring’s purge. Since then, the nation had fallen further as the emergence of the epsilon variant to coronavirus had risen. First, it infected the young and the unvaccinated (or Insubordinate as they were now called). Then the evangelicals had seized control as the moral arm of MAGA nation under Trump.

They first convinced the country that a cloud shaped like a fist with the index finger pointing skyward was the sign God was with them and the solution finally at hand (pun intended). They said the reason for the epsilon variant’s rise was because the vaccinated, the Insubordinates, were emitting undetectable, demonic microwaves infecting the unvaccinated. Science is fiction, we were told. Freedom is ignorance. Absolution walked hand in hand with willful ignorance. Those (scientists) claiming to have an answer (the vaccine) were the first sacrifices to the purge. God would show the way. Trump would lead the way. He was the only one who could solve it.

The death toll from the previous day had topped 500,000 for the sixteenth day in a row. What remained of the South were pockets of the Insubordinate and the Happiness Squads rounding them up. Winston thought of the press conference held last year when Trump told them to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was his final, most essential command. It was then that the evangelicals began to set a firm date for His return to the White House. On the same date, the cloud showed them God was manifestly on Trump’s side.

The Happiness Squads protected themselves, as had the evangelicals, with aluminum foil hats. They believed the metal prevented the transmission of the demonic microwaves and saved them from the epsilon variant. Still, with a 63% failure rate, there were rumblings of its protective properties. Thicker sheets of aluminum foil would soon be produced through the Insubordination Distribution Incentive Output Taskforce recently passed by the reconstituted Senate. The bill’s negotiations had proven difficult to conclude as senators were constantly being replaced, either through epsilon variant deaths or the recently imposed three-week term limits.

The press conference presented evidence supporting the purge. Two maps of the United States were overlaid on one another. The first showed the results of the 2020 election by county. The second showed the death rate by county. With near perfect uniformity, the maps coalesced. This was proof, they were told of the microwave’s effective dissemination of the virus targeting only those who voted for Trump. The Happiness Squads were formed the next day under Generals Sebastian Gorka, Stephen Miller, and Stephen Bannon.

Winston had just secured the placard to his front door when the knock came.

“Happiness Squad, open up in the name of Trump,” said the voice.

Winston hesitated a second, pulled the short sleeve of his shirt over his underground obtained vaccination site, and opened the door.

O’Brien entered first, followed by three camouflaged troopers wearing their officially sanctioned “tactical” aluminum foil hats and toting “recreational, modern sporting” AR-15’s.
“Why are you not mustering for your parade position yet, Smith?” said O’Brien.
“I did not sleep well last night and fell asleep on the couch this morning after breakfast,” explained Winston.
“There have been reports of mask-wearing in this neighborhood, Smith. Wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” asked O’Brien, squinting his eyes as though that allowed him to see inside Winston.
“No,” said Winston, “I saw one in the gutter last week, but given its condition, I’m sure it hadn’t been worn since the purge.”

“Sweep the apartment,” O’Brien barked to the Happiness Squad. “You know we’re only here to ensure your happiness, don’t you, Winston?”
“Of course!” answered Winston. His eyes stole a glance at the bedroom into which the Happiness Squad had entered. His pulse quickened when he heard their footfalls on his floor, hoping the loose boards hiding his science textbook would not betray him.
“Sir, we’ve found something,” said the leader of the Happiness Squad. O’Brien stared intently at Winston for what seemed a minute before heading into the bedroom.

Muffled voices emanated from the bedroom. Orders were given.
O’Brien emerged from the bedroom with the tattered textbook raised before him, looking so much like President Trump holding the bible outside the church in Lafayette Square years earlier in his famous photo op that Winston giggled. He was in trouble, and he knew it.

“Yours, Winston?” asked O’Brien.

“Can I ask you a question, O’Brien?” posited Winston, suddenly freed by the truth and warmed by fact.

“What is it?” an annoyed O’Brien asked.

“That book describes cancer as the mass replication of mindless cells with the ultimate, suicidal goal of killing its host,” began Winston. Behind him, one of the Happiness Squad lowered his Happy Gun to clear a nagging cough. “Today is the day of celebration for the beginning of the overthrow of a tyrannical government. January 6th is celebrated today and will be on every January 6th after that. So, my question is: Without the Insubordinates, without the vaccine, without science, who would He blame? Science created the vaccine, and the old government offered it free(!) to its people. Isn’t it possible, just possible, that disinformation, doublespeak, and idolatry have acted as the catalyst for a population ready to mass replicate, through force, if necessary, with the ultimate, suicidal goal of killing this nation? Isn’t it possible?”

The blow to his head came from behind. The Happiness Squad leader provided the final insult. The vaccine would not save Winston now, nor, did it seem, could science and facts save the nation.

The history books would never mention Winston Smith, and his tattered science textbook would disappear in a burst of bright fire along with so many others on a night later that summer named Fahrenheit 452 Night.

Bulletin from New Washington

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NEW WASHINGTON – Overnight bombing continued in New York City and San Francisco as Day 39 of President Trump’s ongoing purge of “blue” America continued. Following last month’s arrest and detention of former Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, former Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer, and former chairman of the House Permanent Select Committee on Intelligence, Congressman Adam Schiff, the president shows no sign of pausing the purge or “Red Whitewashing” as he calls it.

Similar to his coronavirus claims that “If you take the blue states out, we’re at a level that I don’t think anybody in the world would be at,” no casualty reports were issued from within any engaged city. Instead, when asked this morning, the president said, “We’re doing very well. One attack helicopter had to make a hard landing following apparent engine trouble, an engine, by the way, that was manufactured in one of the previously, poorly run blue states. Other than that, we can’t manufacture bullets fast enough, despite my authorization of the Red Defense Production Act.”

He further stated, “the stock market is nearing an all-time high, and as of this morning, the LCF (Lives Conversion Factor) is hovering at a number never seen before.” Indeed, at the time of his briefing before OANN and Fox News, each red state death was trading at 6,973 blue state deaths, a high not seen since the opening days of Operation Golden Crimson. Current Pentagon projections estimate that several blue states will, like an overturning iceberg, flip to red within the coming year. If that timeline proves accurate, the president will be poised to win the postponed presidential election with an unprecedented sweep of the revamped Electoral College. This will all but ensure his nomination for a third term even before the New Senate takes up the controversial White House proposal to rename the president’s recognized title from “Mr. President” to “Your High, Golden Wonderfulness.” Another White House proposal remains in limbo, moving the White House to Mar a Lago (New Washington), relocating the Capital to the Russian Embassy, and removing the bald eagle as the national bird in favor of a KFC drumstick.

When asked for comment on the status of the latter proposal, newly appointed Supreme Court Ted Cruz said, “I don’t believe there is any reason… not to allow the proposal to go through. With the other Justices removed… I, as the Supreme Court… whole-heartedly agree with His High, Golden Wonderfulness.”

Similarly, Senate Tsar Lindsey Graham seemed to flip flop on his initial reservations regarding the bald eagle’s removal following a round of presidential golf on Tuesday. Golfing included a KFC luncheon held on the 7th green and a presidential nap on the 13th green. The presidential siesta came complete with My Pillow pillows emblazoned with the new presidential seal (Two crossed drumsticks, one holding a nuclear missile and the other holding a gravy soaked biscuit).

Across town at the Ministry of Truth, Tsar Marco Rubio quoted an unrelated Bible verse when asked about recent, underground science and facts regarding coronavirus death’s topping 1 million. To clarify, he stated, “Jesus wasn’t taught calculus or medicine, and he is the white man we most seek to emulate. Other than His High, Golden Wonderfulness. Amen and pass the mashed potatoes.” Rubio, whose petition to change his last name to Ruby, per Operation Golden Crimson guidelines, saw his case move closer to Supreme Court Cruz (whose own petition to change his name to Oswald is pending presidential approval). When inadvertently pushed to expand on his remarks by Fox News reporter John Roberts (whose disappearance following the news conference was deemed coincidental to his line of questioning, Rubio replied, “Take him, dear Lord, take him.” It was not lost on this reporter that Rubio’s top security man is named Deerloard.

No living Democrats could be located for comment, and no Republicans could locate their vertebral column.

Stupidity Fatigue

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Head in HandsThere is a saying in the lottery industry when the public will not purchase tickets for a seemingly high jackpot called “jackpot fatigue.” It is caused by the ever increasing and ever publicized jackpots always available to the public. The public has seen it all before and heard it all before and nothing new can be said about the jackpot total to get them to the convenience store to purchase a ticket. It’s all been done before.

I find myself suffering a similar kind of fate lately regarding the public at large. Events that used to anger me now no longer pique my interest or at least no longer send me to my computer and my Twitter feed where I would once fire off a pithy comment. Twitter especially has become the bastion of trolls ready to engage in bumper sticker based retorts and troglodyte tantrums rather than the necessary thought out debates. It is the AM radio of the internet.

I feel guilty for abandoning those things about which I am still passionately concerned: gun violence prevention, women’s rights, protecting my children from all manner of political stupidity, animal welfare, etc., etc, but I know that there are still those out there whom I trust to carry the ball downfield while I suffer this miasmatic ennui. I still read and I still write, just not at the same temperature as before.

Right now there are about 300 GOP candidates running for president, so there is still time for me to come out of this spin and focus the laser. Right now the moms and dads of Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America are meeting in Minneapolis to discuss next steps. In another universe, a universe where I wasn’t working with hospice to care for my dying wife, I would have joined them to learn what I could do to better fight gun violence in blood soaked America. But that is not the universe in which I currently reside. I do not make excuses, but only present facts. I am tired, physically and mentally.

I am tired of the stupidity of the southern white male with his pickup truck emblazoned with hunting decals and NRA stickers, tired of the stupidity of religious hypocrites festooned with Christian stickers on their cars and quick to criticize anyone not their mirror image. I am tired of the stupidity of the 300 GOP candidates running for president who are fighting for air time by reaching for the lowest common denominator in their demographic and ultimately the shallowest of the public gene pool. I am tired of cancer and the stupidity of its suicidal march toward the murder of its host. I am tired of the stupidity. I am suffering from stupidity fatigue.

Intolerant

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Orwell warning

At fifty years of age, having now buried my father and father-in-law due to lung cancer, and caring every day for my wife as she suffers the effects of breast cancer, and having just learned of the cancer diagnosis of another friend, I find my tolerance for what I call “manufactured drama,” those ultimately insignificant (or moderately annoying at most) parts of life rapidly subsiding.

I find it hard to believe that there are those among us who have not been touched by cancer’s reach or violence’s wound or any of the other catastrophic events we usually associate with prioritizing life’s other goals and worries in a hurry, but I am told they exist and society seems to function as if it were so. In fact, society not only seems to function as if it were this way, but it seems that these escapees dictate the course of public discourse, politics, religion, entertainment, sport, in short, lead society as a whole. How can this be?

We live in a society where, while 90% of climatologists not only agree that global warming is real, but that humans are a significant cause of the rising temperatures, and yet a United States Senator can stand in the well of the Senate with a snowball in February and claim that as proof that global warming is a hoax. When the House of Representatives can pass legislation prohibiting those same expert climatologists from presenting testimony in favor of House members standing on their soapbox, clutching their bible denying global warming, evolution, homosexuality, a woman’s right to her own body, and any other matter they choose with a 14% approval rating but with a 95% reelection rate.

We live in a society where we are addicted to fossil fuels and any attempt to move away from them is met with skepticism and outright contempt. Wind energy is deemed too inefficient, solar energy is deemed too expensive. Hydrogen fuel cell technology doesn’t exist to the point of viability yet. Hydroelectric energy, nuclear energy? Old and dangerous. And who deems it so? The ossified and incentivized. The only source of energy we are told we can readily “enjoy” is coal and oil. Just run that Keystone pipeline down from Canada to the Gulf. There will be thousands of new jobs. Well, temporary jobs. Thirty-five to 50 permanent jobs, but we’ll forget that part. Don’t read the fine print, America. In fact, don’t read anything at all. As usual. Ah, but there’s “clean” burning coal now! And “clean” burning diesel engines! Problem solved, go back to watching the Kardashians, America. Who will The Bachelor pick? Where did Honey Boo Boo go?

And that is the problem. We allow ourselves to be manipulated, misdirected. It is the obfuscation, the sleight of hand that lulls us into concern for our favorite sports team or the comings and goings of the latest person famous for being famous that allows us to ignore those larger issues. We watch a never ending series of awards shows on television. To the point where if we watch the Oscars and the Emmys, we will see the Oscars beat out the Grammys at the Emmys for Best Variety show. When does the celebrity sit and watch the awards show for best gardener? Why do we allow this? Because we’ve allowed the unaffected to dictate the agenda. We have allowed the simpleminded to lead the vacant; we have allowed those with one agenda item to lead all of us down their primrose path and away from what matters because it is easier for us, faster for us, cheaper for us, and allows us not to have to do that hardest of all things – think. Shame on us.

The NFL satiates the American male’s need for machismo. It is why pickup trucks are the number one selling vehicle in America. It satisfies the easy, fast, cheap manhood we have abdicated. We embrace half of the Second Amendment, hug our guns instead of our children, grow beards instead of tomatoes, ignore what concussions do to our children and heroes, turn a blind eye to a billion dollar, tax-exempt industry which ignores domestic abuse, turn an even blinder eye to the athletes cast aside who do not hit the NFL lottery and are left broken, broke and uneducated, and we call it sport.

We preach tolerance in our churches but forget those teachings as soon as we pass through the doors. Our politicians stand up at rallies clamoring for religious freedom in an effort to quash other’s religious inroads because what they really intend is Christian freedom, Christian law. In fact, the “tolerance” being taught, the politician’s speech, the political correctness of the 1990’s has been bastardized now into code. Political correctness is now nothing but code words. We don’t say black. We say thug. Both sides somehow claim to be fighting against a “war on women.” One side is correct. How did this come to be? Because we allowed it. Because it is easier for us to let someone else to think for us. Because we don’t read. Orwell would be horrified to know how right he was.

And so, I am left intolerant of those I should educate or pity. Intolerant of the dead eyes in the expressionless people of Wal-Mart. Intolerant of the manipulative politicians beating war drums for Eisenhower’s feared military industrial complex who must continue to churn out “product,” needed or not because Wall Street demands dividends even if enemy combatants do not yet exist. Intolerant of gun fanatics clutching their arsenals, crying over nonexistent government tyranny and confiscation and patriotically accepting the 30,000 we bury every year in the name of “freedom.” Intolerant of the ignorant who remain so in an age when information is so readily available. I am intolerant of those exorcized by the minutia because they are incapable of handling (or wholly unaware of) the important.

And yet, I cannot. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn said, “It’s an universal law– intolerance is the first sign of an inadequate education. An ill-educated person behaves with arrogant impatience, whereas truly profound education breeds humility.” My parents raised me to think. Education is my religion. I will try to remain humble because I know I am not alone. I will try to always learn. I will always continue reading. As those of us in the gun violence prevention movement, with whom I am so honored to surround myself so frequently say, I choose love. Intolerance is too heavy a burden. But so, too, is silence. I love my wife, my children, and my world too much.

The Class Ceiling

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On Sunday, June 9th, a 39 year old man was arrested following a 911 call from inside actress Sandra Bullock’s Los Angeles home. The man was arrested after having scaled a fence on her property and gaining access to her home via a back door while she was asleep upstairs. She was not injured in the intrusion. An investigation of the individual led to his being charged with 19 felony counts, including: seven counts of possession of a machine gun, 2 counts of possession of an illegal assault weapon and 10 counts of possession of a destructive device (tracer bullets), in addition to breaking and entering and trespassing.

As horrifying as this is, we, as Americans did not even bother with a collective shrug. We barely blinked when a gunman opened fire in Santa Barbara or when there was yet another school shooting in Oregon. We have become accustomed to both violence and guns. Too many of us are numb to it now. Couple that with the pervasive misogyny of the intertwined subcultures of men, guns and violence and you begin to see the framework upon which our society is now built and upon which some of our elected officials feed.

Ms. Bullock was in Los Angeles to accept an award. Nothing surprising there! Actors and actresses have an entire season dedicated to celebrating their celebrity. However, this award speaks to the subculture we’re discussing. Spike TV holds a Guy’s Choice Awards show every year. Ms. Bullock was there to accept their “Decade of Hotness” award. Now, whether or not Ms. Bullock is a talented actor is best left to individual taste (however her box office receipts and salary per movie indicate that she is worth the investment), but must we award “hotness”? How, in 2014, am I supposed to look at my daughter and tell her not to be too concerned with her looks, that we celebrate intellect and passion above appearance? She would laugh until she cried. And then she would shatter every mirror in our house. We need only look at the tabloids at the checkout line to see the focus of our shallow society. From “Best Bikini Bods” to “Guess who went under the plastic surgeon’s knife?” to the latest drivel from all the celebrated-beyond-reason Kardashians, we idolize celebrity, but only pretty celebrities.

On June 10, 1963, President Kennedy signed the Equal Pay Act of 1963 as an amendment to the 1938 Fair Labor Standards Act. Specifically, it states that:

No employer having employees subject to any provisions of this section shall discriminate, within any establishment in which such employees are employed, between employees on the basis of sex by paying wages to employees in such establishment at a rate less than the rate at which he pays wages to employees of the opposite sex in such establishment for equal work on jobs the performance of which requires equal skill, effort, and responsibility, and which are performed under similar working conditions…

However, according to a study of The White House’s National Equal Pay Task Force, in spite of the fact that women play a major role in the economic engine of America (as compared to 1963) and the fact that women now earn more advanced degrees in America than men, women had only closed the gender wage gap from 61 cents for every dollar earned by men in 1963 to 77 cents for every dollar earned by men in 2011, the latest year for which data is available. While undoubtedly a significant gain, one would think that a law passed in 1963 would have completely eradicated the difference by now.

It wasn’t until 1984 that the term “glass ceiling” was first used by former Family Circle Editor Gay Bryant, and that was used to describe the competition between women in reaching the highest levels of business. She is quoted as saying, “Women have reached a certain point – I call it the glass ceiling. They’re in the top of middle management and they’re stopping and getting stuck.”  This definition of the glass ceiling would seem to mesh with the findings of the Council of Graduate Schools study where the majority of advanced degrees were obtained by women (59.5% of master’s degrees and 52.2% of doctoral degrees).

However, it is still a man’s world. From the media’s “sex sells” focus on female images Photoshopped beyond human anatomical limits to the overt compensation of men’s 3-story pickup trucks and need to openly carry AR-15’s and AK-47’s in Target and Home Depot, the male psyche is being beaten educationally and logically by women and has resorted to beating the female image with the only objects left to their stunted minds, guns and misogyny. Essentially, rather than dragging the woman to their cave by their hair, they subjugate her by obliquely beating her with the blunt object between their legs through anthropomorphic means in the form of a firearm. What a shame.

If only men saw women as equals and sought their advice on the important social issues of our time, perhaps we would find a partner instead of a punching bag. As President Kennedy said repeatedly, beginning in 1959, “a rising tide lifts all boats.” Instead, members of Open Carry Texas have resorted to calling members of Moms Demand Action for Gun Sense in America, “thugs with jugs” and have a one minute free for all where they open fire on a female mannequin. Guns get bigger, but, we’re told,”they’re only used for hunting,” as if we are supposed to believe that deer, birds and rabbits have gotten exponentially larger and evolution has furnished them with Kevlar skin.

We’ve become little boys with big toys (or more accurately, big boys with little minds and big guns). Am I expected to teach this to my daughter? Am I expected to treat my wife this way? Am I expected to subjugate my mother like this? And what does any of this teach my son? You may call me less than a man or a wimp or a feminist, but I’d rather open my arms and use my intelligence than open my legs and show my ignorance.

(If you’re interested in a little mental exercise, read this post. I was writing it in 2012 as news broke from Newtown, Connecticut of a shooting at an elementary school.)