The weirdest thing about cancel culture is that the cancelled people don’t go out with middle fingers blazing. They just issue confused apologies and leave. Kind of reminds me of a story my dad told me about the French revolution — everyone just went to the guillotine in a quiet trance. But one gal screamed and hollered all the way to execution, and everyone thought that was tacky. Nobody wants to be tacky…yet.
The weirdest thing about the Mayfair sex trafficking conspiracy theory is that a good chunk of people are dense enough to dismiss it on the basis of incorrectly assuming the sex trafficked children actually get shipped to you inside the $15k utility cabinets. Whether it’s true or not, no one thinks that [facepalm]. I think the trending on Twitter is most-lit if your reaction to the phrase “Mayfair sex trafficking” is anything like mine, which was: I’m sorry, what?
The weirdest thing about the BLM hit-and-run fatality of Summer Taylor, in Seattle, is that anyone thought they could stand around on Interstate 5, one of our nation’s busiest north/south arteries, at 1:30 in the morning, with no lights, traffic cones, or signage of any sort, protected only by some type of janky dim barricade, and expect someone not to get hit by a car.
The weirdest thing about President Trump’s speech at Mount Rushmore was that it was good, and I liked it, and I only listened to it because the media so unanimously presented it as this “divisive”, “openly racist” declaration, and I’ve just about had it with them trying to chew my food for me.
The weirdest thing about the pandemic is the mounting, yet largely anecdotal, evidence of test kits being primed to positive — after one definite false positive, nurses sent in nine blank kits and got positives on each; the president of Tanzania sent in kits with samples of tissue from a goat and a paw-paw fruit and got positive results; two people waited in line for hours to get tested, ran out of time, went home without being tested, and then received a phone call telling them they were positive for ‘rona. LIKE I SAID, largely anecdotal but it’s on my radar.
The weirdest thing about Ghislaine Maxwell is that there’s no mug shot yet.
The weirdest thing about Jeffrey Epstein is that he was a known child sex trafficker and was arrested many many times, over decades, not just the once in 2019, and was always released with a slap on the wrist.
(The weirdest thing about my hotel key card not working just now was that when I asked the front desk guy to re-program it, he didn’t like ask my name or anything, to make sure this is my actual room.)
The weirdest thing about Hong Kong’s sweeping new “national security” laws is that they’re so vague on what constitutes dissent, but so specific on what will happen to dissenters.
The weirdest thing about MK Ultra is that it happened — it’s not even in the realm of conspiracy, it’s a real thing that really went down. Also that Ted Kaczinski was one of their test subjects, or a subject of a related project at least.
The weirdest thing I’ve seen in the last week is the monumentally disturbing art of Kim Noble, and the difficulty I’ve had in finding out more about it online. As an infant sexual abuse survivor, her whole life has been this kind of disassociative disaster, where she doesn’t remember anything cross-personality — including her entire pregnancy and a bunch of stuff about her daughter — but there’s just this glancing mention of her running afoul of a “pedophile ring”, as an adult, turning them in, several attacks being made on her life which she also mostly can’t remember, and then this outpouring of sick, sick, sick, sick art. I mean — it seems it was more than a run-in, based on the art.
The weirdest thing about our country right now is that there’s so much gaslighting about everything, we may as well just not have an internet.
The weirdest thing about about Seattle’s undoing whiteness seminars for racial re-programming is that individualism, perfectionism, intellectualization, and objectivity are advanced as “vestiges of internalized racism” (read: white supremacy), which must accordingly be abandoned. This is the most actually racist shit I’ve seen since the Coco Pops monkey was conflated with a black person. I’m sure people of color are interested to hear that they don’t, won’t ever, and never have dabbled in any of these four basic concepts — despite having somehow created literature, works of art, hysterical comedy, businesses, entire industries, acts of tremendous heroism in times of war and peace — and that white people everywhere are going to work on become collectivized justice bees with low standards, low cunning of the lizard brain variety, who are helplessly hyper-subjective, as a means of allying with those they racistly assume to be the same. Wow. I’m glad my brother’s getting the hell out of there.
The weirdest thing about ALL this is that it’s showing me, there really are two kinds of people. And guess what: they ain’t black and white.
The weirdest other thing about all this is that I feel I’m being radicalized in ways I don’t even want to be. Like, I want a world where we openly examine social justice issues and solutions, public health issues and solutions, individual autonomy and constitutional issues and solutions, all of that. We should be talking about all of it, all the time — that’s what society is *for*. But to the extent it’s just an abusive relationship with an ideology to whom no sacrifice, concession, or acknowledgement is ever, ever, ever enough — have you seen CNN’s fucking LBGT “town hall”?? If you even try to Google it, it auto-suggests “cringe” and oh my god, it is cringe; it’s “an asylum outbreak” according to one commentator — you can’t give an inch. Everyone, everywhere, has to stop negotiating with these identity politics terrorists. Now I’m told I’m not even vegan unless I’m “actively anti-racist”. Not just not a racist; not just anti-racist — “actively” anti-racist. I’m sure the animals in confinement operations are interested to hear that — “oh great, the humans are arguing about their skin colors again; oh well, time for me to get my hind leg hoisted up in a clamp so I can be dragged up onto the mechanized slaughter conveyor belt”. Come on.
The weirdest thing about Trump is that you don’t have to like him, approve of him, or think highly of his leadership, in order to still recognize that he acts as a bulwark against a type of mania we really can’t afford.
The weirdest thing about cryptos is that they’re super volatile compared to the stock market, untethered to fiat currency, and just as likely to tank as they are to go meteoric — and they’re still feeling like a safer and safer bet. Nick’s gotten back into day trading, after a brief flirtation with it early in 2019, and he’s already made us $200 in just a couple days, dabbling around.
The weirdest thing about this election cycle is that I think the months and weeks leading up to it, and possibly right after it, might represent the most actually dangerous time this year to be out and about. Pretty crazy, right?, relative to a year featuring also a global viral pandemic and a cascading series of race riots in our urban centers.
The weirdest thing about blogging these days is how hard it is to concentrate on anything but how weird everything is. This has been an attempt to purge the demons of distraction, if you hadn’t noticed. Hopefully I’ll have something original to say at some point.
Teal Swan is always on about “stop running from negative emotions and turn to face them”. I’ve been a little worried, frankly, that the current cultural state of affairs in the US is some type of precursor to a shift in regime, where we stop being a constitutional republic and start being Marxist, or something to that effect. But taking Teal’s advice, it occurred to me just now that I could turn to face that uneasiness, and when I didm I actually laughed out loud.
The thing I love about America is that it’s full of Americans, and we are just a problem. Can you imagine us being organized into any semblance of a tyranny? It would be a Mountain Dew and fried chicken fueled dumpster fire. Everything — every single thing — has to be a mess, here, and that might actually be our saving grace. The beauty of us is that our grandest ideas actually do collapse beneath the weight of the muscle required to actually advance them, inevitably leaving us to (mostly) our own devices. Our baseline might not be high, but it doesn’t get shoved easily. I can probably count on my fingers the times I’ve witnessed any two people in any one room agreeing on any one idea, without qualification, and there’s nothing North Korea about that.
We’re much more Mad Max, over here. Specifically, we’re like the vehicle in Fury Road whose hood ornament is an electric-guitar-shredding mutant happily blasting himself deaf via attached bank of subwoofers at highway speeds on non-highway hell rides.
I think it’s all okay. I’ve been a little concerned about the level of pushback I’m experiencing, personally, relative to the intrusion of ideas that label as intrusive those ideas that ask ideas to be subjected to the rigor of natural pushback, but it’s probably just a rare case of my becoming involved in the social physics of ideas, whereas usually I experience these more as a bystander.
In other words, I don’t think we can examine the demise of democracy and capitalism in less fortunate countries and scry our own fate anymore than we can examine the success of blended economic systems in more polite countries and presume an equivalent result.
TL;DR: there’s nothing more argumentative on the surface, yet strong at its core, than a large Latino family; perhaps Americans are that large Latino family. Pikachu.
I’ve said it before: while all this bickering goes on, the Latinos are just quietly taking over the Western hemisphere, with their incredible work ethic and easy good grace. Mark my words.
Well, the boo bear and the bugaboos and I all checked in to a nice, quiet hotel yesterday, escaping from the incinerator in the sky. Nick called it “the hottening” — every morning was glorious, and then within fifteen minutes the hottening would occur, with a sound almost like a light saber being activated, and the next fourteen hours would sizzle by with very little breeze. Within a later fifteen minute window, glorious cool evening would occur, just before nightfall. Rinse and repeat. We were on that fire for eleven days, so that was a good roll, but I’m still holding my breath for a barn burner that soaks up a good month or two. That would be just great.
Hawaii-in-the-fall plans are still panning out. We encountered a potential employer, at the fire in Utah, who’s starting up his own company on Kona, needs people, liked us a lot, bought us lunch and gave us his number for when things are a go. That was incredibly random and serendipitous. My brother is likely moving to Hawaii in late summer, and we’re really excited to collaborate, hang out, and of course add surfing to our barbell lifestyle. We’re continuing to narrate audiobooks together and that’s always a great side gig, if not more full time, even. We’ve got a number of skills to trade for money, so I’m sure it’ll be fine. There’s a lot to be done to ready the various pets for customs clearance, but it mostly has to be done within the 30 days prior to flying over.
Nick and I are both a lil’ chonky right now — we discussed this just this morning, laying in bed. We’re trying to really stay on our grind, with barbell, make as many strength gains as we can this summer, subsist as best we can on the fire camp food supplemented with lots of fruit, and then do a nice, easy lean-down in the fall. It’s not so much that we feel we should lose weight; it’s more that neither of us typically carries around much excess weight, period, and we’ve been eating like jerks to stay a little fluffy on purpose. There’s just nothing like that mid-heavy-set feeling of, “wow…did not eat enough yesterday”. It’s totally different from the typical cardio-esque workout feeling of “I hate that I’ve ever eaten, and I’m never going to eat again”. So yes, we’re okay with waddling around chonky for a few more months but we’re excited to reach our goals, on several dimensions, and morph into the sexy beach babes we really are, on the inside 🙂
I plan to continue not drinking — having a sober partner AND a Class A CDL has made alcohol kind of a non-starter for a while now. I’ve always been a lot more addicted to morning-writing coffee than alcohol, so it’s not a big deal for me. I do think I’ll miss honky tonks, in Hawaii. I haven’t researched, but I just can’t imagine they have any honky tonks there, or not real ones like in the West. I’m in some sense an awkward duckling in almost any context I’ve ever operated within, except honky tonks, where I’m a graceful, happy swan. Oh well. Not feeling miserable about the weather 300 days a year: worth it.
Okay, we gotta go get food. Vegan food. That’s right.