Tricky, tricky, tricky times...

If those on the Right continue to stockpile armaments, reshape the social and political landscape, and engage in rhetoric that would make Hitler blush, those on the Left, in their endeavor to seek humanistic resolutions, will be exposed and vulnerable. These are tricky times when pluralists like me are starting to wonder how to protect what we believe in when reason, discourse, and compromise are no longer viable ways to solve our deeply divisive cultural dilemmas. Heck, at 51 years old I'm still tough and my wife and daughter, both black belts, are even tougher, but against a Glock G19, Sig Sauer P938, Springfield XD-S, Ruger Lightweight Compact Pistol, and/or Smith & Wesson M&P Shield (America's favorite guns), our minds and fists are wimpier than vanilla pudding in a warm bowl. In the light of my ancestors, I worry about passivity as much as I worry about fighting fire with fire.

Again, these are tricky times... and I don't want to wake up in a year or so saying, "Well, I saw that coming." My genes, your genes, have been there before.

Centrifugal States of America

I loathe Facebook when national news breaks. Frightening opinions, uninformed diatribes, and fallacious attacks, some from people I once viewed as reasonable, litter my newsfeed and I'm reminded again why I avoid that virtual place. 

Partly thanks to social media (especially Facebook and Twitter), we have become a Centrifugal Nation compelled by the radicalizations of our ideologies to flee the center. We will soon be spun out, Balkanized, spilling into camps of blind fanaticisms -- far too lost to recover a sense of balance. I spent the majority of my political life identifying as a humanist which, I guess, labelled me as a "lefty" and liberal... and I was fine with that. But I now, more than ever, recognize the necessity of the Center. When in the middle, voices become centripetal forces which pull inward and hold the disparate pieces of our nation as part of the whole. We may not like some (or many) of these different views... but we practiced (a kind of) reason as a means to seek resolution. Now we spin outward in our virtual disconnections. Spin, spin, spin... and the center is almost lost as is our troubled, but often earnestly searching national soul. 

Ugh, enough!

 If I said I didn't want to list my pronouns because I simply don't want to (but if you want to, you definitely should!), a large portion of my social media "friends" would attack me for my lack of "wokeness." If I declared my absolute belief in a woman's right to choose, a battalion of past Catholic school acquaintances (mostly male) would condemn me to hell. If I told you I adored A.O.C. and admired John McCain (going so far as to donate to his primary campaign in 2000 in a measly, pathetic attempt to support his candidacy over Bush 2's), I would be dually (by libs and cons) raked over the political coals. If I suggested that J.K. Rowling had a reasonable point to make in regards to her idea of the epochally challenging experiences of being a woman but missed the boat by devaluing the humanity of identity, you probably would not ask me to elaborate and only publicly lambast me for the fragmented statement that she "had a reasonable point to make." I can't win; I'm not sure I want to win... but I do want personal honesty to be the foundation of discourse.

My opinions are transient, morphing concepts of temporality that are informed by communication. What happened to the discussions of ideas?

Heaven forfend I loudly express how vitally important these COVID vaccines are...

Ugh, enough! 

Since it's what we're all talking about today...

The second plane tore into the South Tower 20 years ago this morning:

Maria, who was four months pregnant, and I were living in Santa Monica, CA. Both of us were born and raised in NYC and both of us were, at the time, craving real bagels, real pizza, real pierogies, and real Chinese food. It's the curse of the transplanted New Yorker -- the things you miss like its food seem to weigh on your soul (and my soul is my stomach).

At the time, Maria was in graduate school and I was teaching at Yeshiva University High School of Los Angeles (YULA); and we were nervously planning to be parents. I was up at 6:00 AM for work and as I tuned into the morning news, the initial impact of Flight 11 was already about 15 minutes old and speculation as to what and why was the panicked tone. Then at around 6:03 AM PST, Flight 175 plowed into the South Tower and there I was, 3000 miles away watching, in real time, something devastate my Home. I woke Maria and we immediately went into recon mode. We called our mothers. Both were safe. My worries immediately shifted to my father, who I kind of knew would be travelling to his office in Midtown at around that time... He was safe. Then our other loved ones... then... then... and then I had to go to work. My students! It was only my first week as a new teacher at YULA and all of a sudden I was nearly overwhelmed by my need to see my students, to talk to THEM.

On 9/11/01 I discovered new levels of my devotion: I revere, above all, the first responders; I honor all those caught up and killed in the unholy smoke of that morning, some of whom were friends and practically family members; and I will forever admire New Yorkers for their resilience and fortitude. But among the remarkable people that changed me that day and in the following days were my students. Their sincerity, their earnestness, their eagerness to understand their new worlds raised me up, a mere transplanted New Yorker in California, and helped light MY way forward.

They still do.

Greek Alphabutt

 After "Lambda" there will be "Omega" and then "Alpha Alpha" and "Delta Delta"... then eventually "Lambda Lambda" and "Omega Omega"... and then the day will come when we, as an anti-science/mask-a-phobic society, become a pathetic Saturday Night Live episode (from, like, 1992 or something) living and dying through a "Delta Delta Delta" skit.

I wonder if we'll finally get the message when "Omicron Omicron Omicron Omicron Omicron" is the next COVID wave and "Psi Psi Psi Psi Psi" is on the horizon.

God help us, help us, help us!

A Metal Moment

Maria and I were on our way to the farmers market this morning when a woman walked past in a panic. She circled around us repeating, "Malocchio, malocchio!" 

It took us a second to realize what was happening and as she started backing away into the street I said, "It's only a tarot card. I can tell you what it means." 

"I don't want to know. I've seen evil," and through the daggers of her eyes she could've been referring to me. 

She prayed, "Dio, Dio, Dio [something, something, something]..." and then, "God be with you." 

I responded, "And Buddha with you." 

"Jesus, Jesus is my savior" and she lunged around the corner, wild-eyed and crossing herself. 

Such a metal moment!

I'm Shedding

Upstate NY: I'm having a nice chat with a neighbor's friend... and then, out of nowhere, he goes into one of those furious Trump supporter rants, "He was trying to save Social Security by letting all the older people die from COVID. You have to understand, he was doing everything he could to save America." You probably know the spiel. You've seen it in YouTube videos, on talk show clips, and in news channel segments. Then comes the anti-vaccine screed and I know I'm in trouble. Still, if Facebook has taught me anything (other than my absolute disdain for how the platform is managed), it's that arguing with a Trumper is like arguing with a rabid pit bull: There's no reasoning and even a baseball bat to the noggin isn't gonna get them to release their grip on your leg. So, he pauses, mid-wild eyes, and asks the question I've been dreading, "You're not vaxxed, right?" and in the second it took me to respond I processed a series of outcomes (like a Vulcan on speed)... none of them good. So, I said, "Yeah, I believe in the science. I was vaccinated early on." He starts backing away from me in a panic. "You're shedding. You know it's rewriting your DNA and you're shedding." Now a good 12 feet between us and my darling neighbor comes to the rescue with, "We have to go. I totally forgot I had an appointment." So, in the most Trumpian way, the plot has been entirely rewritten: Initially we were afraid of getting COVID from infected people; now people are afraid of getting an array of DNA-busting, phantom antibody magical death vibes from the vaccinated. Seriously, this is a real thing! People believe this shit. I know we've been calling our current state of affairs "Bizarro World" for quite some time, but in a Rick and Morty kind of twist upon the twist, I think we've entered the whacked-out sphere of the bizarre "Bizarro World."

Bodies Against Arms

Despite all of its flaws, American democracy is worth the risks and ought to be a morally accepted nonpartisan stance:

I understand the worry that pursuing, prosecuting, and convicting these insurrectionists, their defenders, and instigators will lead to more savage unrest. But the universal danger of not justly responding to these Neo-Nazis, white supremacists, conspiracy lunatics, and mashed-brained militia morons far outweighs the possible repercussions.

We cannot allow these willfully ignorant, psychotic whack-jobs and their messages and actions of hate to continue to infect our country. Maybe even more than COVID-19, this is the fight of our lives.

It Can Go Fuck Itself Forever

 2020 will feel our pain:

I'm updating Dante's Inferno to incorporate another level of Hell, henceforth known as "Inanitasia" -- a bastardized version of the Latin for "void." This new corner of Eternal Damnation resembles an abandoned New York City apartment reeking of disinfectant, littered with the inedible scraps of moldering home-baked bread, and blasted endlessly with the cacophony of emergency sirens and the tortured screams of unseen denizens losing their minds.

"Inanitasia" has only one resident: 2020.

Autocorrected

 When I write "fuck," autocorrect changes it to "duck"; and when I write "shit," autocorrect changes it to "shot." But sometimes, for no contextual reason, when I write "luck," it changes it to "fuck"; and occasionally when I write "shut," it changes it to "shit." 

When it comes to autocorrect, I have zero fuck. It pisses the shot out of me. Ah, but who gives a duck, right? I should just shit this feature off.

On the Verge

I've spent my life of 50 years insulated by democracy. From the ivory tower of our republic, I viewed those in other parts of the world desperately struggling to defend their rights, to legitimize their votes, and to oust dictators and corrupt regimes with a privileged inability to truly relate despite a heart-wrenching respect for their plights. Now, here we are! Sure, 2020's United States of America ain't Marcos' kleptocracy circa 1972... but it's getting ugly -- really, really ugly. It's getting so ugly that many of us are screaming the term "Civil War!" with the sickening anticipation of being violently consumed by our disparate political beliefs.

How the world shifts.

Borat Redux

 Just finished the new Borat film and it is absolutely cringe-inducing.

Three quick takeaways:

1. The two elderly, Jewish women who embrace the absurdly bigoted Borat in the synagogue are representative of all that is remarkably kind and enduringly loving in what is left of our humanity. [They're positively Christ-like in their forgiving nature.]

2. The shit many Americans will believe is, obviously, baseless, downright idiotic, and a threat to democratic ideals. [I'm not sure we can survive our stupidity.]

3. Rudy "the Demonic Elmer Fudd" Giuliani is representative of all that is determinately evil in the world.

Watch it... then take a long, hot shower to wash Sacha Baron Cohen's message off. His revelations are painfully sticky and not easily scrubbed away.

This film is even more relevant than the first one.

Evergreening

Pines, spruces, and firs (like my outdoor potted ones, pictured) bud a year in advance of actually growing new twigs. These little knobs that sprinkle the tips of the trees are as sure a sign as any that there will be another year and another year and another year. 

So, as I putter around the rooftop garden on this bright Sunday morning, I pine [pun intended] for social, political, and environmental progress. Will a year make a difference? Two? Three? 

I'm cautiously, nervously "evergreening."

How to Fly Away from the Cuckoo Games

I've been reading every goddamn plan I can find about restarting schools in the fall and they're all a mad mix of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and The Hunger Games -- The Cuckoo Games!
Instead, there's a better way to navigate the pandemic while keeping our children safe, engaged, and educated. It's not the ideal approach (considering our many parallel and tangential concerns), but there's a way to do this while also creating a parity across the many divides:
A new Chromebook (or other cheap but effective computer) for all 56 million students in America would cost about $11,144,000,000 (retail). According to the FCC, a National Broadband Plan could cost as little as $20,000,000,000. To put these numbers in a type of head spinning perspective, Jeff Bezos' net worth is $166,300,000,000 and the U.S. defense budget is $721,531,000,000 (for 2020) -- a nationwide network would be pittance in comparison. Think about the manufacturing jobs this country-wide endeavor would generate. Think about all the newly trained builders and technicians and... Think about the many opportunities universal WiFi would create for our children!
Nothing will replace the actual classroom; however, it's time for the Ol' U. S. of A. to meet the virtual needs of Gen Z. I'm not suggesting that this will be easy; but I am suggesting that there are ways forward.
Forward!

--

Dear Trump-Supporting Christians:

How much more proof do you need? This "Son of Perdition" IS the Antichrist: Note the way you've been bent to believe his lies; the acceptance of his extreme narcissism over his absent humanism; the manner in which he has you convinced not to protect yourselves and/or your loved ones and/or your neighbors; the falseness of his religiosity which you justify because he's seemingly serving your political ideology; and the many traitorous acts that you'll defend before you even process this post.

Stop. Breathe. Re-read the New Testament, specifically 2 Thessalonians: "... with all power and signs and lying wonders, and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish; because they received not the love of the truth, that they might be saved" (2:9-10‬). And for good measure, check in with Revelation: "(He) shall go out to deceive the nations which are in the four quarters of the earth, Gog and Magog, to gather them together to battle: the number of whom is as the sand of the sea" (20:7-8).

Being Christian and being conservative aren't excuses to support Soviet Agent Orange. You're being minion-ized by his gilded manner and gaudy message. Scratch the spray-tan surface and all is (and has been) revealed. The inevitable vitriol you'll be sending my way for pointing out this truth is proof of your being deceived.

Save yourselves before it's too late!

Reject him!

My sincerest best,
Brian

‭

Finally Found

113 days ago, our world stopped. What was happening around us was devastating; however, I held it together. Only 27 days ago the world stopped again, but at first I didn't know it. Days later as the bravest among us took to the streets, a seismic event rattled our nation, our world. It was, it IS, outstandingly awesome (in the truest sense). Still, I held it together. 10 hours ago my daughter remotely graduated from high school and, somehow, I held it together. It's 3:07 am, NYC. Awake, as usual, I just finished watching Dave Chapelle's new short Netflix special on YouTube; and after his concise, meaningful performance, there's a video montage of all the world-movers hammering the foundations. At 27:18, right at the end of the video, there's an excerpt of a young woman earnestly, forcefully, desperately conveying some elemental truths to a blue line of hulking officers. I have no idea what she said and yet I know exactly what she IS saying. About 10 minutes ago I finally wept. Somehow, in all the images raining on these COVID days, I missed her. But holy shit, she just found me! Whoever this small dam-breaker is, she's mightier than mighty... and I am so thankful to and for her.

A Ray of Text and Color

A box arrived from Forbidden Planet today. 

It has been over three months since Aleda and I read a new comic and, because of this imposed gap, we've been combing through our boxes (and boxes) of back issues. Treasures abound and we have more than enough books to last several lifetimes of compulsive perusing. But new comics bring renewed hope.

Still, several things are now absolutely clear to me:

1. Yes, I'm a month away from turning 50 and I still read comic books (all kinds) with the fervor of a 13-year-old.
2. My 18-year-old daughter has yet to "outgrow" the obsession proving that she's definitely a lifer. 
3. Something seemingly trivial -- a stapled collection of illustrations and words -- can bring a sense of normalcy to these outstandingly tumultuous times.
4. And when my last day arrives, I will likely have one of these four-color collections of glorious imagination in my cold hands.

'Nuff said.

The Importance of Screaming and Staying Safe

While people are sacrificing themselves for the sake of social justice, the Morbid Orange Mass hunkers in his bunker tweeting, "FAKE NEWS!" The bull shit blasting out of his puckered punch hole and tiny, pudgy digits is the disgusting display of a dirtbag desperately trying to undermine democracy. Just now he tweeted, "NOVEMBER 3rd," and just now this face plant of a president reminded us why we need to be so present and so vocal. I see the peaceful protesters as the outright heroes of our era; I only pray that they stay as safe as possible so that they can vote on "NOVEMBER 3rd" -- the value of their voices will also be in the ballots.

These Are the Positive Things I Have to Say About Trump:

Observations from a COVID Walkabout

Friday, 5/15/20, 12:30 pm. A few observations on NYC street etiquette after a nice walk around the East Village and Stuyvesant Town with my mother:

* Gen Zers are mostly out of sight, but the few I could identify as being in their teens were MASKED.
* Millennial males are mostly UNMASKED.
* Gen X men are staking out their territory by talking and laughing loudly with their socially non-distancing friends, coughing up loogies, and spitting on the sidewalk. But some, at least, are MASKED (when not excreting their phlegm)!
* Boomer males are clustered and man-spreading on park benches like cavalier cocks, wholly UNMASKED.
* Most women are MASKED; some are even gloved.
* Many women are walking alone or when with other people, six feet apart.
* ALL joggers are UNMASKED.
* ALL bikers are MASKED.
* Children 8 and under are, on the whole, UNMASKED. (Didn't see one with a mask on.)
* Had to stop my mother from scolding several parents for not protecting their children. I said, "It's not your responsibility to correct these dumbasses." She shot back, "Yes, it is!" [Nuff said.]
* Smokers wear their masks on their chins even when not smoking.
* The streets are littered with rubber gloves that look as gnarly as used condoms.
* The homeless have staked out significantly larger spots on corners and in front of closed shops (and ALL are UNMASKED).
* The various delivery people are outstandingly professional: MASKED, gloved, kind, and thankful when thanked.
* The birds are the loudest East Village denizens -- even louder than Gen X men. It sounds like the tropics during mating season.