Maybe all the existing systems are out of date, they don’t
work for the public. The machines replace people and then
what, we’re all gonna drive Uber? What happens when we
have self-driving cars?
Not that anybody is thinking about it, just like they’re
not thinking or doing anything about global warming. Used
to be we lived in a society, we felt an obligation to look
out for each other, but then Reagan came along and said
the government was evil and we should all put ourselves
first, and then we did! Screw everybody else, life is just
The youngsters know all this. And all the oldsters can do
is bitch about their work habits and expectations. The
boomers got sexually harassed, you should endure it too!
Huh? Homey don’t play that no more.
As for Occupy Wall Street…what we learned is protest
doesn’t work, action does. Don’t show up for work and Wall
Street has a problem.
They’ve pushed it so far that people have finally had
enough, and they’re not only pushing back, they’re
quitting the game! This was not foreseen. This was not
predicted. You didn’t read about this anywhere. But it
happened and is still happening. It’s not like you can
force people to work hard for a pittance. And there’s
plenty of money, it’s just that Wall Street, the owners of
this country, don’t want to cough it up.
(I don’t think self-driving cars are going to happen in my lifetime, but I also don’t think that invalidates his point about automation.)
It is fun to read a cogent take about how this current instability in the US means things could change for the better, but considering I was born during the Reagan administration, you can understand my hesitancy to adopt any kind of optimism around change… so I find myself awfully pessimistic about there being a revolution where things get better rather than worse.
Because the Supreme Court has declared that partisan
gerrymandering is beyond the ken of our Constitution,
states have radically manipulated legislative districts.
Before the United States Supreme Court, Justice Amy Coney
Barrett asked lawyers from the Republican National
Committee why they were opposing provisions enabling more
people to vote. Because it “puts us at a competitive
disadvantage,” the lawyer was untroubled to reply.
Yet what’s striking about the United States Supreme Court
is not only that it has done nothing to resist
minoritarianism but also that its most significant recent
interventions have only ratified perhaps the most
egregious aspects of our minoritarian democracy: the
influence of money in politics.
While most mature democracies have various techniques for
minimizing the corrupting effect of money in politics, the
US Supreme Court has embraced the most radical conception
of campaign money-as-free speech of any comparable
Yet we have to frame the stakes accurately and clearly: if
we do not “confront” those “imperfections” in our
democracy, “openly and transparently,” in the State
Department’s words, we will lose this democracy.
I wonder if I’m spending too much time trying to learn about the oncoming train tearing down the track and too little time untangling the knots that bind me to the rails.
You are one room over, humming a tune to yourself while you write a chapbook about mermaids using the stickers that Mama got you as illustrations. (I’m getting regular updates: it’s a great book.) I’m here in the next room watching the snow fall and ruminating about the world you’ll someday confront; all its inequities, violence, duplicity, rigged systems, cruelties. But those worries are not for you right now.
DAVEDAVIES: I guess the Trump appointees were unwilling
to grant that request by the Trump administration on the
election cases, particularly the election cases alleging
fraud and theft of votes. The court pretty much shut those
down quickly with the Trump appointees agreeing with the
majority. What can you say about the extent to which these
three appointees were willing to, you know, go by the
LINDAGREENHOUSE: Well, what I say in the book is that
they assisted in saving the court. And what I meant by
that was had the court granted any of these Trump election
cases, it would have been an institutional disaster, not
only for the country because, obviously, there was no
fraud in the election and, obviously, Trump was not robbed
of an election victory. That’s clear. We can agree on
that. But for the court to have given in to the series of
requests that came, including that crazy case that Texas
brought against the states that Texas claimed should have
gone for Trump but didn’t - you know, it just would have
been an institutional disaster for the Supreme Court. And
obviously, the court was well aware of that.
Like, holy shit, Linda Greenhouse, three-decade expert on the Supreme Court, is saying that the fucking Supreme Court of the United States of America was just saving its own ass when it came down on the side of the facts and our democracy in 2020 election disputes. And not only that, the Court did so with the least amount of effort: they didn’t even take the opportunity to set a PROBABLYEXTREMELYUSEFULSOMETIMESOONPRECEDENT about election disputes. I mean I’m hyperventilating with anger just writing these sentences.
Yesterday, we took a quick bike trip across town to one of the Little Free Libraries — Ess on a tag-along bike, only one wheel to it and a rigid attachment to my seat post. The season of drought has partially lifted and the green leaves in the gentle late summer sun and the blue sky… I don’t think there’s room to improve on the lovely weather we had. We looked for bunnies and sang out when we saw them, Ess got harassed by a barking dog at a stoplight, we huffed and puffed up hills… the usual bike stuff.
So Ess made her selection and we pedaled for home, I thought — when I turned around, she had eschewed pedaling entirely, pulled her new book out from her bike pouch, and was just reading, with the book resting on her handlebars.
I was fixing a sprinkler last weekend and Ess jumped in to help: running all over the yard with me as we watched the water flow so I could flush just the right amount of water through the new connection.
This made things in the hole a bit muddy, but Ess was still excited to help me put the earth back in the hole — we got her set up with Mykala’s gardening gloves to do it. And as we were walking to the backyard, she exclaimed: “Oh good! Now that we’re both wearing gloves, I can hold your hand!”
I honestly don’t recall if I have written about it here, but a few years back I realized that I have always agreed with every bit of feminism I have encountered, including radical feminism. So, I have reordered my book-reading to match. Until I feel confident that I can understand history and the present-day through the lens of feminism, every book I read will be a feminist book. So far, I’ve read:
So anyway, I’m currently reading The Feminine Mystique by Betty Friedan, and this idea popped into my head while reading:
In chapter one, Friedan is describing her 1940s perspective of a very real concern about regression to the 1800s, an almost atavistic return to earlier gender rolls where women lose: autonomy, dignity, education, personhood. This is frequently exemplified by the generation after Friedan choosing to sacrifice education, career, and fulfillment on the altar of premature marriage and stultifying domesticity. As a nation, we have a deeply entrenched default of that particular restricted and personhood-denying vision of femininity however this default is hidden under the effects of generations of economic contraction since Friedan wrote in the 40s. What I mean is this: women are marrying older, having fewer children later, forging careers — is this because we listened to Friedan? No. We, as a nation most certainly did not enthusiastically embrace, support, or push for feminist equality, laws, and reordering of the social fabric. The patriarchy of the United States still polices every facet of womanhood and denies her humanity. However, the economic reality of being a woman, where a vibrant life outside of constant work (much less heading a single-earner household) are near-impossibilities, where kids produce real economic hardship, these realities have produced different behaviors in the past few generations, and these changes in behavior, while appearing to show progress towards feminism on the surface, in fact cover up the nation’s unresolved and deeply entrenched anti-feminism.
So that’s just a bland stream-of-consciousness from me during reading. BUT. But but but: when I record the refinement of my understanding of feminism here, please know that it is not a contribution to the great discussion taking place across the decades. It is merely a bookmark in the reading list of my own growth. Don’t read what I’m saying, read what the women who live this shit daily are saying. Listen to them. Believe them.
How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our
lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we
are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a
net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a
worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of
time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed,
faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a
haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on
which you find yourself, decades later, still living.
All my anecdotes over twenty years of poor writing conclude with overwrought sentences of revelation and/or triumph. Scroll through the archives here and you can witness me try repeatedly to extract a profound conclusion or seismic change from stochastic tribulations. And so, I find my writing style to be annoyingly egocentric, and incompatible with a change in my philosophy, one that bends toward though hasn’t arrived at, nihilism.
Our human brains want, they thirst for, they need these confusing events of our lives to mean something. All of the restrictions, the death, the uncertainty, stress, loss, awfulness of the 2020 pandemic must mean something, right?
This human problem is not new. Here’s David Hume, summarizing Epicurus from, like, 2,300 years ago:
Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is
not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is
malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then from whence
So let’s sidestep the Epicurean theology and try on a grossly simplified premise: bad things happen for no reason. It’s hard to accept, isn’t it? Part of you rejects it at face value. But you MUST grapple with it before you decide to take it as true or build up a giant, complicated worldview rejecting it.
What’s more, serious trouble arises when we try to make all the bad stuff mean something.
Step 1: something bad happened.
Step 2: let’s make it meaningful!
It can’t always be done.
Cognitive dissonance clouds our thought when we retell the story of ourselves to ourselves by basing it all on a manufactured, post hoc dramatic plot line. Things stop making sense when we constantly fight to force the main character (inevitably, ourselves) to emerge stronger from every vicissitude.
Bad things happen all the time. They happen to good people. They happen for no reason. Then, nobody learns anything or becomes any better whatsoever after they happen.
If I had any kind of advice to myself (is that even a thing?), I guess it would be this:
Imagine the arc of your life takes place on a small boat. Not like dinghy small, but also not a giant ship with its own center of gravity. A bit smaller than one of those fancy yachts where you can distract yourself from the fact you are on the open sea. On this boat, you always know and feel the swells of the ocean. The boat’s passengers are you and those you love. You can turn the screws, tack a bit in one direction, try to catch a current. Maybe you will. You know small changes now create big, unknowable changes later. You also know how small and vulnerable you are out on the open ocean.
You know you could exhaust a lifetime of energy planning and tacking toward a current you hoped to catch.
These days I’m having trouble thinking that tacking and planning are particularly important. My instinct says they are, but my logical brain says they aren’t. Sometimes one wins. Sometimes the other. The thing is, my loved ones are right there on the boat. I drag them with me when I chase currents. I suppose we all do.
So I feel something akin to acceptance of the vastness of the ocean rather than a resignation or succumbing to Fate.
All is big, we are small.
There are costs to trying to do things, and problems thinking we can do everything.
There are problems thinking we can do nothing.
We have been told for decades that the banks and the
people who work at Goldman Sachs and Fidelity and hedge
funds none of us have ever heard of are smarter than us,
that they deserve to be rich, that they should be the
ones who pull the levers on the economy, that they should
decide which companies are good and which are bad, that
they should be the ones who help make financial
regulations. All along the way they have gotten
fabulously wealthy and we have been stuck with stagnant
wages, record consumer debt, and financial advice that
tells us to wait until we are old to retire.