Hopey [sic] New Year!

Hey, you’re alive. I know because you’re reading this. That’s good news. We made it! (Although, as of this writing there are still 10 hours and 5 minutes to go.)

Wars, Civil and World, are brewing; religious conflicts are the norm and probably over a dozen lives will be destroyed in the name of a God or Gods by the time you read this; someone was just shot, just now in the good ol’ U. S. of A., for being “other” by the other’s standards; across the globe, almost three billion people live in poverty and 785 million don’t receive enough nutrition to lead healthy or productive lives; 13.1 million children in America alone are in food-insecure situations; and our President-Elect is Tweeting his victory revenge against his “enemies” while wishing us all a “Happy New Year!”

2016 is almost over and I would love more than anything to wish you a “Happy New Year!”; but my disgust is not beyond me – in fact, I’m full of it. Do I want happiness? Yup. Do I have any? Nope. 10 hours and 3 minutes to go until 2017 and all I got is, “We’re alive!” and I HOPE we all get to see 2018. Ah, that’s it; that’s what I can wish to any and all who read this blog:

“HOPEY [sic] NEW YEAR!” to each and every single one of you.

Steve Martin's Tribute Tweet

Steve Martin seems to have ruffled more than a few delicate feathers with his tribute Tweet: “When I was a young man, Carrie Fisher was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. She turned out to be witty and bright as well.”

I was six years old, probably sitting in the New Dorp Lane Theater, Staten Island, my father to my left, his feet stretched into the aisle; and with each second of "Star Wars," my mind expanding, my imagination extending, and then Princess Leia: She was fierce, she was sharp, she was capable… but she was also beautifully adorable beyond my comprehension at the time. I was within reach of puberty when "Return of the Jedi" was released and Carrie Fisher and her character were light years more appealing to me than Farah Fawcett and Cheryl Ladd. [Lo and behold, I married a version of Jedi Organa Solo.]

I second Steve Martin’s statement, hormones and all. Get over it.

Sticks and Stones...

During a political argument over a family brunch, I was called a NATIONALIST because I see America's great social divide as irreparable.

A student (not mine, I swear) has been unleashing an anti-Muslim tirade (aimed at me!) via email and calling me a MARXIST.

Someone posted that I'm ANTI-WHITE and that I hate men.

There's more... but I'm going to focus on what I really am: A multibillionaire, socialite bachelor with a dark secret. I'm BATMAN!

I mean, if we're just making shit up...

"I Told You So!"

... And so we move into an age where they deny the climate, they deny the poor, they deny women, they deny children, they deny identities, beliefs, and appearances of all radiant, brilliant kinds, and they deny our future so that they can have their Golden Icon -- a gigantic, bronzed Cthulhu wannabe spreading gilded bile over the planet... And while they’re bowing to the engorged Tanning Parlor King, the Commander of Sleaze, many of us will be protesting against this demonic charlatan's dominion over the climate, the poor, women, children, others,... But if our loss is determined, and I hope beyond hope it isn’t, I may not live long enough to tell them to their burning faces, “I told you so.” So, just in case I never get the chance, I’m writing it now: “I TOLD YOU SO!”

Say It with Me:

"I pledge DISOBEDIENCE to the idea of a Divided Hates of America, and to the plutocracy that is our new reality, two nations under Trump, separable, with planned tyranny and abuses of others… like you and me."

The Last Strand...

We used to complain constantly about Barley's fur. It was everywhere. For a shorthair dog, her undercoat was so dense and prolific it could supply a fur jacket after several brushings. Then she died, and in the subsequent months the furballs in corners and puffs on our clothing became memories of her desperate desire to herd Maria, Aleda, and me when we were hiking; of her catching birds in mid-flight; of her sitting next to me while we drove around Los Angeles in our '63 Dodge Dart sharing In-N-Out burgers; and of how she would follow Maria around, room to room, place to place, needing nothing, asking for nothing, just making sure all was okay. Now, 10 months later, still missing her like youth, we can’t find a strand of her… anywhere. What I would trade to find a patch of that once ubiquitous fluff. Here’s a pic of Barley shortly after her 20th birthday in her favorite place… her hairy bed.

Rigel VII

Despite being opposed to all things Trump, his transition team reached out to me this morning to ask if I (and my family) would be interested in the ambassadorship to Rigel VII. I said I would think about it, but when I brought the news to Maria, she reminded me that Rigel VII is an uninhabited planet about 90 light years away and... fictional! [It's the setting of the first Star Trek pilot, "The Cage," and home to Kang and Kodos on the Simpsons.] If you receive a similar overture from Team Trump, don't accept. Apparently, I'm one of millions receiving this offer.

11 Years Ago Today

On this date eleven years ago at approximately this time (or a little later), I was on a flight to Amsterdam from Newark. Maria, Aleda, and I had opportunities to live/study/work in Aberstwyth, Wales (our first choice) or Newcastle, UK (a distant second). I had already visited (and fell into) the former, but needed to experience the latter. There were (are?) no direct flights to Newcastle, so I had to fly into Amsterdam for a connecting leap. I spent the seven-hour journey next to a Norwegian woman who was (and I kid you not because she told me and I can confirm) six and a half feet tall. She spoke near perfect English. We drank a ton of cheap wine, told each other our stories (she was an athlete -- and well-known in her field events (no surprise) -- and a teacher) and laughed and drank and annoyed everyone around us and bribed the attendant for more wine. After five hours we finally passed out. The weight of her beautiful but giant head was on my shoulder as I drooled into her 80s-styled blonde hair. In the background of our inebriated slumber I heard instructions: we were near our destination and our seats needed to be upright. I pushed my reclining button and coaxed her, in the depth of her sleep, to move so that I could right her seat. The captain’s voice, in the distance of my stupor, notified the cabin that there was a pretty severe storm and that we should prepare for a bumpy ride. Normally, I’m terrified of turbulence, but I was in a wine-sleep-dream… And then the lightning struck and the plane did what they’re not supposed to do: Lights went out, engines stopped, and we were falling. Falling. Nearly weightless, my companion, about 8 inches and 80 pounds greater than I, latched into me like a massive clip-on koala as we dropped. Nothing. Dropping. No sound. Then screaming. Hours... but actually seconds and whirring, and the plane’s power was restored.

The captain broke the panic with, verbatim, “We, ah, were, ah, struck by, ah, lightning and, ah, lost power, but power is restored and our engines are… ah, we’re okay.” That's it.

I’m still bruised.

Revote

My fantasy became reality and Bernie Sanders won the Democratic nomination, faced Donald Trump in the general election, kicked his ass, and was elected president. If it were later revealed, however, that Russia tampered with the outcome in order to ensure his winning, I would reject Bernie's victory. I would reject it! Upon this, I swear; and to play upon my fantasy in our reality, no matter one's politics and under the light of our principles, as wide-ranging as they are, we should ALL reject a "president" Trump and demand a new, fair, carefully monitored and audited election. As Constitutionally complicated as this would be, other democratic countries call for elections when political pressures mount; and although our government doesn’t practice this approach, as locked-in to our quadrennial routines as we are, this would be that moment in our history, no matter the costs, to demand a break from our practices and do what is just and right and free by making our election our own.

White Flags

Desperately looking for something positive, I finally found a light during a killer dinner party last evening. Our daughter, whose taste in music tends to be heavy, punky, and/or classic rocky, made a "mixtape" for the gathering. I noticed that her playlist contained mostly songs of resistance. (Yup, Nina Simone was on there.) But one song, on a bit of a loop the last few days, is really speaking to her: JOSEPH's "White Flag." The positive -- and I'm seeing this everywhere with ALL our friends' teenagers -- is that this younger generation is attentive, policy-oriented, humanistic, and galvanized in ways we never fully were. (They'll correct our mistakes!)

Last night, when "White Flag" came on, Aleda said, "I feel Ike they could've written this 10 days ago" and you could see the protest in her. Those of us who were listening to her heard her:

"Noises closing in from all sides
Warning all the ways to die
They say, 'You'd better give up, you'd better give up'
I say, 'I'll never give up, I'll never give up'
"I'll be an army, no you're
Not gonna stop me getting

Through
I'll sing a marching song and
Stomp through the halls louder than
You
"I could surrender but I'd
Just be pretending, no I'd
Rather be dead than live a lie
Burn the white flag
Burn the white flag
Burn the white flag
Burn the white flag"
(-- JOSEPH)

Hope? Hope.

The Spineless

If I were a Republican, I too would disdain the Left – our "representatives" come across as sniveling milksops. The Trumpzis are “manning” themselves with the bowels of THE Right -- zealots who are waging war on OUR rights, our planet -- and many elected Democrats in Congress are already lining up, lock step (under the guise of “looking for common ground”) behind the Führer-Elect. Another leadership term for Nancy Pelosi? Chuck Schumer – a Wall Street champion – as Minority Leader? Same old, same old. Fuck, I’m beginning to hate us. Twelve days later and we’ve changed nothing. NOTHING! THEY NEED TO REPRESENT US! Will your passion still be here in two years? Your voices now, dammit!

Time to Make the Break?

Maybe it's time. We are in the midst of an abusive relationship and we seem to be trying to make something work that just can’t. Maybe it’s time to civilly accept what’s what and seek a divorce from each other before it gets worse. Let’s divide our property. Let Trump’s America be Trump’s America. Let the West Coast be its own United States. Let the Northeast be its own Old America. Maybe this is what we should do, peacefully. Maybe it’s time… because those of us in the popular majority are scared shitless of what’s coming down the pike but we’re still going to stand up to assaults on our rights and our bodies; and we know that those in the electoral majority are not afraid to use their guns. So, maybe we can avoid blood in the streets and go our separate ways. Maybe.

We Are Megaphones and Sledgehammers

Trump’s proposed Cabinet of Miscreants validates all our fears. But if there is some beauty on the other side of Trump's heinous reshaping of America it’s that those of us who believe in plurality and kindness are galvanized. We had eight years with a president who mostly represented our ideals… but eight years of mostly stalled policies. We settled until Bernie emerged on the national scene to remind us of our values… but he lost (and that's our fault too). Now, we are electrified; now we have our purpose back; and now we are megaphones and sledgehammers. Fight for humanitarianism.

Immensity

The collective “minority” (race, religion, sexual orientation, ideology... and/or any combination) is the “majority.” Wake up tomorrow knowing that; and wake up on November 3, 2020 knowing that. And know that between now and then, they can’t hurt us. We are a wall of ideas, voices, and bodies that stand between their policies and our rights. We are immense.

Alternate Outcome

These petitions spreading to urge "electors" to change their electoral college votes from Trump to Clinton in order to reflect the popular vote are not entirely baseless. Since 1968 there have been 6 examples of electors changing their votes for a variety of reasons. Realizing, entirely, that this is unlikely to happen, the act of signing a petition like Change.org's does help to magnify the issues surrounding the "popular" vs. "electoral" outcome. Still, should electors in Michigan and Wisconsin, states with thin margins in Trump's favor, see the value of switching... Well, we can dream.

https://www.change.org/p/electoral-college-electors-electoral-college-make-hillary-clinton-president-on-december-19?recruiter=1855019&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=facebook&utm_campaign=share_page&utm_term=mob-xs-distancing-custom_msg

FUCK. THEM.

You don't need another Facebook scolding or diatribe telling you how you should or shouldn't be feeling and/or acting. So, for those of you who are more emotionally wrecked today than even yesterday, two words: FUCK. THEM.

Take that in any way you need to. For me, I'm sick of the Trump gloaters telling me and mine to get over ourselves. I'm sick of those who are telling us that this is just a reaction to Obama's policies. I'm sick of those posting their thoughts everywhere about how the protestors are careless, babyish, anarchic... I'm sick of the "Yeah, but if it were Bernie" people because it wasn't Bernie (even if I wish it were). I'm sick of the conciliatory posts, the exclamation points, and the supine. I'm sick of the flabbergasted media because most of us on the left saw this coming. I'm sick of the Democratic party for letting this happen... because they kind of did. I'm sick of the asshole who's going to post a snarky comment below. And more than anything, I'm sick of feeling hopeless.

Two words: FUCK. THEM.

Last Ditch Effort

I am so fucking fried.

Hovering over the polls, I’m a broke junkie skirting a motel by the Holland Tunnel circa 1981. I’m breaking out in a rash, biting my nails again, and developing new twitches… And like the poll watching junkie that I am (I realize how that sounds), I’m going to finish this post with a pic of my final statement until the 9th of November, return to Real Clear Politics, and find another way to interpret the numbers (pennies in my pocket).

Despite my fears, despite the ad hominem, despite the fact that the thirteen Facebook friends I still have who are voting for Trump are unswayable,… I’m going to try a totally different approach. I’m putting this out there, a statement to ride the waves of bad energy traversing this country like the fix that’s overwhelming my senses.

[Now, back to the electoral college map for another interactive session.]

10/30/16

1. Would you let a toddler navigate the USS Zumwalt, the most powerful destroyer ever built, through the Bering Sea? [You may not like the Admiral… I mean, she did select “reply to all” when responding to your email invitation to the Halloween party with, “Can’t wait. Just checking, how’s your penis doing after that zipper incident?"… But she knows how to captain a ship.]

2. Notice how it's mostly white males who are incensed by this ridiculous email scandal? Clearly, they have Weiner issues.

Delusional Dot?

Polls are tightening again and there are 10 more days until the election.
There’s a part of me that’s trying to accept the outcome of a possible President Trump. It’s a small part, but it says, “It’ll give you and yours more purpose.” This small part of my psyche reminds me that when there is staunch opposition to progressive ideals and walls are being built, artists become megaphones, spray paint cans are rattled, and the "others" find their hammers. This small part of my psyche, the dot on the “i” in “Brian,” screams, “It’ll be a fight and you’ll fight!” Then the rest of my persona overwhelms the best of me and I fear, like the boy I was under the desk during the “duck and cover” drills my crazy kindergarten teacher practiced in Staten Island despite having no efficacy and being outmoded years before, that this is the end.
And the dot above the "i" says, "Despair not. The people know what's best."

Delusional dot?

Gospel of Truth

Probably authored by Valentinus in the second century, the non-canonical GOSPEL of TRUTH did not discuss Jesus Christ as a figure; rather, it expressed that which moved through Christ and that which was revealed in us… Truth! Clearly a gnostic tract, this GOSPEL was discovered in The Nag Hammadi Library in the mid 1940s. 

In the second to last translated paragraph, this…: “Say, then, from the heart that you are the perfect day and in you dwells the light that does not fail. Speak of the truth with those who search for it and (of) knowledge to those who have committed sin in their error. Make firm the foot of those who have stumbled and stretch out your hands to those who are ill. Feed those who are hungry and give repose to those who are weary, and rise up those who wish to rise, and awaken those who sleep. For you are the understanding that is drawn forth.”

This is Christianity in its earliest form.

Beyond Shadow and Pale

I’m a Catholic. I’m a pluralist Catholic. I’m a pluralist, agnostic Catholic. I believe in everything and nothing, especially science. I'm a whole lot of mishmash and an ardent atheist. I'm troubled.

 

Some friends know how deeply I care about religions and sacred texts. I’m the son of a powerfully intelligent Jewish man and a magnificently spiritual Catholic woman. I was informed by both of their religions and, like both of them, neither. Due to circumstances, I spent my youth, until college, in Catholic schools. I was an altar boy (or as Maria still teases, an “alter” boy); and I hated and loved Catholicism.

 

In college and throughout my 20s, I quietly studied (or maybe not so quietly if you spent any time with me) the Quran, Buddha’s teachings, Hinduism, and Nothingism; and, I concluded, I AM ALL.

 

I've read the Gospels (both accepted and not) many times and know that beyond the shadow and pale, Christ was a liberal. 

 

[Also in context, Christ, a Jewish rabbi, was among the greatest Buddhists.]

 

Having embraced the depth of concepts being taught through our shared (and NOT!) beliefs, I wonder why anyone identifying as Christian (especially Catholics!) would vote so ardently against those in need, the suffering, women, children, peace, enlightenment… 

 

Many ideologically "conservative" voters misunderstand Christ's messages and have more in common with the antagonist in Matthew 4:1-11 than the protagonist. 

 

I welcome haters and forgive you.

Lockstep and Landslide

The Knight's Party platform is in "lockstep" [note: word choice] with the rise of Donald Trump and the Alt-Right.
Below are the Ku Klux Klan's primary positions:
1. The recognition that America was founded as a Christian nation.

2. The recognition that America was founded as a White nation.
3. Put America FIRST in all foreign matters.
4. Stop all Foreign Aid Immediately.
5. Abolish ALL discriminatory affirmative action programs.
6. Put American troops on our border to STOP the flood of illegal aliens.
7. Abolish all anti-gun laws and encourage every adult to own a weapon.
8. Drug testing for welfare recipients.
9. A flat income tax should be introduced to allow for the funding of community, state and federal projects.
10. Abortion should be outlawed except to save the mother’s life or in case of rape or incest.
11. We support a national law against the practice of homosexuality.
12. Restoring individual freedom to Christian America.
13. We support state sovereignty resolutions.

Given a national platform and a face, the KKK's ideology is becoming rampant... again.

So, with the many new posts trickling down your News Feeds encouraging a landslide victory for Hillary Clinton, I thought it best to get behind why such a broad mandate over hatred is necessary...

Because should they win, they would endeavor to lock me and most of the people I hold dear in the cattle wagons. [Actually? Figuratively?] As angry as many self-identifying white voters are and their willingness to protest (with impending violence?) the so called "rigged" election, so am I willing to defy the resurrection of this Evil.

Yes, a landslide victory for Hillary Clinton is necessary. It will not be enough to just win.

15,330 - 20 =

I'm not diggin' get older... at all. If I could somehow live to 88 years old (wishful thinking?), I have approximately 15,330 days left alive. Whether or not I treat it as such, every day has great value. Still, I would gladly forfeit the next 20 days, 2 hours, and 45 minutes (at the time of this post) to make tomorrow Election Day. I've had enough.

Goof Exquisitely

You know that longing, earnest saxophone that opens behind the chatty greetings of Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On?” You're hearing it in your mind now and your head is starting to nod like you’re saying “No!” to everything other than the riff, the song, and its ideas. Right?

Eli Fontaine, a session sax player, was just warming his chops in the studio over the track when Gaye told him to go home. Gaye said, “We’ve already got what we need.”

Somewhat incredulous and probably taking it as a dismissal, Fontaine insisted that he was only “goofing around.”

Gaye responded with, “Well, you goof exquisitely.”

Goof exquisitely.

For Wednesday’s debate, a ranty list of questions:

For Wednesday’s debate: Enough ad hominem; enough gimmickry. How about answers and plans? How about discussing wealth inequality and quality of life? How about the lower class being the middle class (or vice versa) and the middle class being nonexistent? How about corporate corruption and profits? How about Social Security now that our parents need it more than ever because they were pillaged by Wall Street and the Great Recession? How about our massive interest accruing college and graduate school loans that many of us will die with before paying off? How about the fact that this has paralyzed families like mine? How about our children and their debt-fueled futures? How about infrastructure and the fact that NYC’s roads are among the worst of any industrialized nation…, which is A LOT of nations? How about science? How about the TRUTH in science? How about letting people worship the way they want and the way they don’t want? How about you take your religion and keep it to yourself? How about my ambitious community college students and their lack of prospects and the $2400.00 they spend per semester, which is already beyond their reaches? How about prosecuting all the fuckers on Wall Street that fucked our economy? How about throwing them in prison and releasing ALL nonviolent drug offenders? How about the fact that as I write this post, a black man is being assassinated and his loved ones will never get the answers to their questions? Fuck it, how about dismantling our entire criminal justice system? How about the women in my life – the only reason I do anything? How about ALL women and their rights to have rights for themselves, their bodies? How about the fact that women are superior to men and men use all their dirty tricks to try to make them feel inferior because men have inferiority complexes (and maybe should)? How about men going to college again so they can learn something about the world? How about securing ALL RIGHTS for our LGBTQ sisters and brothers and both and others because they’re our sisters and brothers and both and others and fathers and mothers and friends even if you want to continue to delude yourself by insisting they aren’t… and because there’s a chance you are too even if you don’t admit it (which is fine)? How about more art that violates your precious senses (you video-playing, R-rated-movie-watching hypocrites)? How about we refer to “Native” Americans as “Americans” and refer to every other group of “Americans” as “foreigners”? How about loving “foreigners”? How about protecting everyone’s right to vote, even the incarcerated? How about we take automatic and semiautomatic weapons away from everyone; and ALL guns away from anyone who uses them for anything other than hunting? How about we engage the world and talk to other nations, really talk to them, like they’re our equals? How about we talk about the issues? How about that? No bull shit. No dodging. The things that matter only. How about it? And then, if this could only happen, those of you who don’t already see what I see will see… These are just a few questions.

10/11/16

1. If you don’t like my posts, blame Maria because that’s what we do in America: We condemn women for their spouses’ sometimes reprehensible, occasionally stupid actions and behaviors.

If I expose myself… ideologically, that’s on me.

2. My grandmother, Francis Timpone, had a way of twisting clichés and idioms to suit her needs. In regards to this political season she would’ve said, “The writing’s on the floor.”

Jump!

About 20 of so years ago when Maria and I first moved to the East Village I was witness to one of the most desperate scenes: A man was on a rooftop ledge seemingly on the verge of leaping seven stories into a maze of fire escapes. The high school across the street set its teenagers free and they, along with other onlookers, police officers, and fire fighters, gathered in a flash mob. There was movement on the roof and I could see the first responders trying to woo the man from the cliff. He teetered forward, backward, forward again and the teenagers started yelling, “Jump! Jump! Jump!”

This is America’s political situation and it’s beyond a suicide watch. As we wait for the next “Breaking News” and subsequent scandal, we all seem poised to yell, “Jump!”

The Trumpy Horror Picture Show

My daughter is 14 and she attended the midnight ROCKY HORROR screening last night (this morning?) for the third time with her friends. The film, the audience, the vibe, the dancing, the suggestions, the cursing, the silliness – it’s just her scene; she gets it. And then there is Trump who makes THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW look like a mad combination Kieślowski/Scorsese/Ramis (yup!) masterpiece. I say, shelter our kids from our presidential election. Let ‘em play the most violent video games and watch all the R-rated movies they want…. It’s a whole lot safer.

My new submissions to the Oxford English Dictionary:

Trump + misogynist = Trumpogynist
Trump + petulant = Trumpulant
Trump + absurd = Trumpsurd
Trump + moronic = Trumponic
Trump + megalomaniac = Trumplomaniac
Trump + bankruptcy = Trumpruptcy
Trump + apocalypse = Trumpocalypse
Trump + pitiful = Trumpitiful
Trump + bloated = Trumploated
Trump + embarrassing = Trumparassing
Trump + shyster = Trumpyster
Trump + disastrous = Trumpastrous
Trump + xenophobic = Trumpenophobic
Trump + asshole = Trumphole
Trump + maniac = Trumpaniac
Trump + orange + neanderthal =Trumporanderthal
Trump + pig + bigot = Trumpiggot
[I could do this for hours.]
Smarmy… Opps, that’s already in there. Silly me.

The King Scumbag

Trump accuses Mexicans of being rapists as he lustily talks about violating women? The King Scumbag of scumbags gets caught on tape for revealing his contempt despite the fact the we are repeatedly told that he has no regard for women and now you listen? Women came forward; women complained... and he continued to climb the polls (thanks, in large part, to white males). These brave women were dismissed as they often are; and now you're paying attention? And now he offers an "apology"? And tomorrow he debates Clinton? And Monday's polls hardly adjust to reflect what an awful human being he is? Haiti gets shit on again... The story of Jessica White's death: shielding her children from gunfire... Untold atrocities in Syria... And women spoke up... And thank the Deities in Heaven, women will vote.

TRUMPKINHEAD, the Movie

Opening January 20, 2017: TRUMPKINHEAD, the Beginning of the End
Plotline: When a disfigured corpse with a festering dead ferret on its head lumbers out of its gilded mausoleum seeking an imagined vengeance, Jason, Michael, Freddy, Candyman, Chucky, Leatherface, and Pennywise join forces to save America from itself.
Tagline: The worst of the worst ain’t the worst no more.

Observations, 10/3/16:

Observations, 10/3/16

1.     My fellow NYC bicyclists are becoming more aggressive, inconsiderate and vulgar than cab drivers.

2.     Sikhs practice place before religion; hence, when they identify as “American” they are more sincerely nationalistic than most Christians.

3.     ComicCon is next weekend and payday is Friday. A totally fucked combination.

4.     Siri is listening: When Maria and I have a conversation with points or facts that need verifying, we pull out our iPhones. Whatever it is we are searching for always appears as the first suggestion after just one or two typed letters.  “C,” “h”… Google: “The Chariot tarot card.” Really? How? Ahhhh. We’re screwed.

5.     The hardest part of grading essays for me is getting the papers out of my bag. Once they’re out, I’m committed. Once I’m committed, I’m an asshole. Now I’m an asshole and I feel really bad for my students.

Trumpservations, 9/30/16

1. You know how the “good” pain of a killer workout causes pleasure? Do you think that's why people are voting for Trump? The burning sensation, the lactic acid build up, the spike in anandamide, the surge of adrenaline, and then that warm, fuzzy feeling of being high. You know what comes next, right? Exhaustion and “bad” pain… and, if you’re out-of-shape and ill-equipped, a massive heart attack.

2. My students and I are studying Alan Moore's Watchmen. Today, we slightly digressed (which happens a lot) and, somehow, connected the politics in the graphic novel to what's happening now. A young woman (and I've come across many young women who are reluctant to support Clinton) said, "I just don't like her"; and a young man responded with, "But would you give Trump the keys to your car?" She, "Yes!" He, "But he doesn't know how to drive!"